Our Time Is Now

by Chloe Douglas

  Barely able to pull air into his lungs, Gideon couldn’t have imagined a more erotic vision than Jessica bent over him, her silky mane blanketing his hips, her breasts cushioning his thighs as she took him deep into her mouth.

  But even as he watched the highly arousing sight, he knew that his pleasure would be more keenly felt if she would partake in the ecstasy with him, as shared bliss was always more gratifying.

  As if attuned to his every desire, Jessica suddenly ceased her love play. Gracefully swinging a leg over his prone body, she sat astride his hips. Encircling her waist with his hands, Gideon hoisted her upward, the tip of his manhood poised at the entrance of her moist slit.

  Splaying her hands on his chest, Jessica lowered herself upon him. “Time to put you through your paces.”

  “Have mercy on me,” he rasped as he watched his swollen rod disappear into her wet and welcoming body. Already dangerously close to climax, he grasped hold of Jessica’s buttocks, enabling him to guide her along his entire length.

  During the long moments that followed, the friction between their two bodies was a pleasure beyond compare. Mesmerized, Gideon watched as Jessica suddenly threw back her head. Breasts proudly thrust forward, back provocatively arched, she began to shudder. The sight of her caught in the throes of orgasm caused the seed to gush from his body in a powerful burst.

  In pleasure’s aftermath, neither spoke. In those dizzying moments, words were entirely unnecessary. They’d each freely given to the other, their bodies having eloquently and passionately spoken for them. And though they’d only known each other a total of ten days, their coupling had exhibited none of the awkward fumbling of a new union. It was as if they’d danced this particular waltz many times before.

  When Jessica suddenly slumped against him, Gideon belatedly realized that she’d fallen into an exhausted slumber.

  “ ‘To sleep, perchance to dream,’ ” he whispered as he wrapped his lady love in his arms and clasped her to his chest.

  Chapter 21

  “Good God,” Gideon bellowed, clearly appalled. “What is that woman doing?”

  Seated next to him on the library sofa, Jessica glanced at the writhing bodies on the music video. “She’s twerking. It’s a type of, um, dance movement.”

  “Dancing, you say? With the exception of a few bits of clothing, it puts me in mind of—”

  “How about we watch a cable news channel?” Hoping that would prove more tame fare, she flipped through a dozen or so cable stations, finally landing on a political roundtable.

  Because she’d recently used some of the proceeds from the sale of Gideon’s gold coins to purchase a 46-inch TV, the two of them had been able to spend the last several hours vegging out, his-and-her couch potatoes.

  Since Gideon was leaving tomorrow morning for Shepherdstown, Jessica had spent a good part of the day tutoring him on pop culture. The Kardashians, hashtags, zombies, SpongeBob, and breast implants gave him some trouble, but, all things considered, he’d aced the crash course.

  Reaching for the remote control, she muted the sound on the TV. As she did, Gideon turned his head and peered at her, a questioning look on his face.

  His attention garnered, Jessica smiled hesitantly, about to broach a subject that had been weighing heavily on her mind. “Do you ever think about… about returning to the past?”

  Smiling warmly, Gideon caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Even if I could find a way to return, I would choose to remain here. You, Jessica, are my future.”

  Deeply touched by his response, Jessica impulsively took hold of his right hand and placed it on her left breast. Right above her heart. “Can you feel what you do to me?”

  In like manner, Gideon reached for her free hand, placing her palm squarely on his chest. “It is no more than what you do to me.”

  Thus posed, each could feel the drumbeat of the other’s heart.

  Enthralled, Jessica noticed how the lamplight burnished Gideon’s hair and highlighted the specks of gold in his blue eyes. This was how she’d always envisioned the archangels, as fiercely beautiful as Gideon MacAllister.

  Snuggling against his shoulder, Jessica aimed the remote at the TV screen, switching the sound back on. “It looks like a political discussion,” she said, recognizing the speaker as a prominent member of the ACLU.

  As the television camera panned to the other guests on the panel, which included “Conservative Blogger Richard Bragg,” the remote slipped through Jessica’s fingers.

  “Oh, God,” she groaned, feeling like she’d just been ambushed in a dark alley. “It’s Richard.”

  His attention focused on the TV, Gideon spared her a quick sideways glance. “I take it that you know this man?”

  “Er, I know of him,” Jessica hedged, affecting a disinterested shrug.

  Attired in one of his Brooks Brothers suits, his strawberry-blond hair immaculately groomed, Richard appeared exactly as he had on the day she’d walked out on him. Unless she was greatly mistaken, he was even wearing the same tie.

  When, a few seconds later, the program broke away for a commercial, Jessica breathed a sigh of relief. “How about we change the channel?” she suggested. “They’re showing Gone with the Wind on TCM. I bet you’d get a big kick out of that.”

  “If you don’t mind, I would like to continue watching the debate,” Gideon said politely. “I have always had a keen interest in politics.”

  Too guilt-ridden to look at the TV screen, Jessica reached for a magazine, feigning a sudden interest in kitchen and bath design as she debated her next move. Despite being unplanned, the opportunity had just presented itself to tell Gideon about her marriage to Richard Bragg.

  But if I do, he might suddenly decide that he isn’t so keen to stay with me in the twenty-first century after all.

  For the first time in her life, she was genuinely happy. She enjoyed her work. She took pleasure in her dilapidated home. And she loved Gideon MacAllister. But for all his admirable qualities and sexy as sin physical attributes, he was still very much a man of yesteryear. To such a man, the dissolution of a marriage brought dishonor to all involved.

  In truth, that wasn’t too far off the mark; she had felt defiled by her marriage. What’s more, deeply ashamed that she’d ever wed Richard in the first place, she’d kept mum about the divorce, having mentioned it to no one. If she came clean, she’d then have to own up to the fact that, for seven years, she’d completely sublimated who she was as a person, having sacrificed her friends, her interests, and even her dreams.

  Shivering slightly, she set the magazine aside and wrapped her arms around her torso.

  “You’re chilled.” Getting up from the sofa, Gideon walked over to the hearth. “I’ll build a fire.”

  “Please don’t,” she said, her voice catching on a ragged breath.

  Hunkered in front of the fireplace, Gideon dropped a log onto the grate, apparently not hearing her request.

  Jessica clicked off the TV. “Gideon, I’m begging you, please don’t build a fire,” she pleaded, this time in a louder tone of voice.

  Still squatting, Gideon pivoted on his heel, a baffled expression on his face. “Is something the matter?” he asked as he rose to his feet. “You appear vexed.”

  No doubt she did. The previous night she’d had at least three nightmares, all involving her, or rather Sarah MacAllister, being trapped in a burning barn.

  Unable to mentally erase those terrifying images from her mind’s eye, Jessica said, “I need to know how Sarah died.”

  Gideon’s broad shoulders immediately stiffened. “As I am wholly responsible for Sarah’s death, it would pain me to speak of the matter,” he said brusquely.

  Taken aback, Jessica shook her head. “How can you possibly be responsible?”

  “My wife was killed in a fire,” Gideon told her, grim-faced. “But the truth of the matter is that she died on account of my unforgivable arrogance. And because of my soldier’s honor,” he added with a brittle,
humorless smile. “There. Are you satisfied?”

  Not by a long shot. Particularly since she’d seen the raging inferno in last night’s dreams, still able to hear Sarah frantically scream Gideon’s name. “If you were away fighting in the war, why would you blame yourself for Sarah’s death?”

  The muscles in Gideon’s jaw visibly tightened. “If you must know, I was here at Highland House, home on furlough, the day that Sarah died.”

  Hearing that, blood instantly rushed to Jessica’s head, furiously pounding in her temples. “If you were at Highland House, why in God’s name didn’t you save Sarah?” she demanded to know. When Gideon gave no immediate answer, Jessica lurched off of the sofa. Rushing over to where he still stood at the fireplace, she grabbed hold of his shirt with her balled fists. “Answer me, damn it!”

  Gideon stood motionless, his eyes glazed with unshed tears. “I couldn’t save Sarah on account of the fact that I wasn’t home when the fire started. I was supposed to be here, but… I had left the house earlier in a rage. And because of my cursed pride, I lost my beloved wife.”

  No sooner had Gideon finished speaking than he reached up and clutched his head between his hands.

  “Gideon, are you all right?” Worried when he didn’t reply, Jessica wrapped a hand around each of his wrists. Feeling his arms forcefully quiver, her concern instantly spiked. “Please tell me what’s the matter.”

  “Evil will descend upon the land of the Greenbrier,” Gideon hissed between clenched teeth. “The red man cometh. Those in high places will perish in the flames of hell. So sayeth the Beast.”

  He’s channeling Draygan, she realized with no small measure of fear, wanting nothing more than to hurl the damned creature into whatever black cave it had slithered out of.

  “Let me help you,” she offered, bracketing his head with her hands.

  Gideon pulled free of her grasp. “Leave me be.” With a muttered oath, he stormed out of the library. A few seconds later, Jessica heard the front door slam shut.

  “I just wanted to help you,” she murmured, heartsick that Gideon had spurned her.

  In hindsight, she had no one but herself to blame. She had, after all, needled him into talking about Sarah’s death. She also suspected that Gideon’s tormented memories were the reason he had no desire to return to the nineteenth century, not that things were peachy keen in the here and now. They were going to get even worse if she didn’t come clean soon about her divorce from Richard.

  Dispirited, Jessica wandered over to her desk and plopped down in the chair. Quickly booting up the laptop, she opened her e-mail account and typed a missive to her attorney, inquiring as to when the divorce would be finalized. That done, she glumly stared at her desktop. Needing to do a final edit on her Draygan article, she plucked a red pen out of the flower pot that doubled as a pencil holder.

  Long minutes passed as she absently stared at the printed pages, unable to summon the will to read through the article. Hoping to jump-start her creative juices, she began to doodle on a sheet of clean paper.

  When did my life get so confusing?

  The dreams about Sarah and Gideon’s courtship, the nightmare about the fire, all seemed so vaguely familiar. As if Sarah MacAllister’s life was right there on the tip of her memory. A wild flight of fancy that—

  “Oh, God.”

  The pen dropped from Jessica’s fingers, rolling several inches across the wooden desktop.

  Stunned at what she’d unconsciously scribbled, Jessica stared at the sheet of paper. Not only had she written the name “Sarah MacAllister” in elegant penmanship, resplendent with the curlicues and squiggly flourishes that were typical of the nineteenth century, but the signature bore absolutely no resemblance to her own handwriting.

  Jessica slumped over her desk, resting her head on her folded arms. Why was this happening to her? Why was she obsessing over a woman who’d died a century and a half ago?

  “I’ve gotta buck up and put Sarah MacAllister behind me,” she muttered as she pushed herself upright. Purposefully folding the sheet of paper in half, she deposited it in the recycling box that she kept next to her desk.

  Damn you, Draygan.

  * * *

  “Have you come to bid me farewell?”

  To Gideon’s dismay, his question was met with an indecipherable grumble.

  Shuffling past him, Jessica reached for the coffee pot. Not wishing to incite her ire, he opened a kitchen cupboard and retrieved a coffee mug. Wordlessly, he handed it to her. They’d yet to reconcile, and it weighed heavy on his mind. Particularly since his departure was imminent.

  “Actually, I thought you’d already left for Shepherdstown,” Jessica said after imbibing several swallows of freshly brewed coffee. “I heard the front door open and close.”

  “I walked down the hill to retrieve the morning post.” He motioned to the pile of mail on the kitchen table. “Although J.W. should be here shortly to pick me up.”

  A ponderous silence ensued. Jessica was clearly not interested in making small talk.

  Yesterday, several hours after their verbal clash, he’d made an attempt to bridge the divide. But when Jessica once again asked about his wife’s tragic accident, wanting to know the reason why he’d left Highland House in a rage on the day that Sarah died, he’d instantly regretted having made the overture. His refusal to speak of the matter had unfortunately triggered yet another dispute. Which had then resulted in their retiring to separate bed chambers.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked, worried about Jessica’s noticeably wan appearance.

  “I suffered from a recurring nightmare. But I’m fine now.” As she raised the coffee mug to her lips, her hand visibly trembled, belying the disclaimer.

  “I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for being such a bull-headed lout,” Gideon said, the apology long overdue. “While I don’t understand your fascination with the past, that is no excuse for my—”

  “I forgive you.”

  Those three words, softly spoken, came as a great relief. Having missed his lady love, Gideon made haste to pull Jessica into his embrace. When she reciprocated, wrapping her arms around his waist, he smiled gratefully.

  “You have a way of bringing out the best, and the worst, in me,” he confessed, cognizant of the fact that only one other woman had ever had that effect on him.

  “That goes double for me.” Jessica chuckled, the sound muffled against his shirtfront. “Maybe even triple.”

  Gideon’s smile widened. As always, he wondered how this intrepid woman could remind him of Sarah—not that Sarah couldn’t be bold; she could be, particularly when pushed.

  God knows I pushed her that last day. If it was in his power, Gideon would retract every hurtful, acrimonious word that he’d spoken to his wife during that last tragic interlude. But more importantly, he’d give anything, even his life, if he could somehow relive that one day and snatch Sarah from the arms of death. But he couldn’t, and so absolution would forever remain an unattainable dream.

  “Let us speak no more of this,” he murmured in Jessica’s ear. “It only mars our happiness to dredge up the past. Instead, let us focus on the future. Our future.”

  No sooner were the words spoken than Jessica wiggled free from his embrace. Wide-eyed, she stared at him. As though he’d just made an outlandish request.

  “You want me to shove Sarah’s death into cold storage. But I can’t,” she informed him. “Not until I know everything that happened on the day that Sarah died.”

  Bewildered by her morbid curiosity, Gideon stood his ground. “I will not speak of that atrocity.” Then, suspecting that nothing less than a full-blown ultimatum would deter her, he said, “And you will never again broach the subject. Am I making myself clear?”

  “But I—”

  “Never again.”

  Even to his own ears the finality of those two words struck a harsh note. To temper the command, Gideon reached for Jessica’s hand. The moment he did, a horn
blared just outside the kitchen window.

  “J.W.’s here,” Jessica said, her fingers slipping from his grasp as she stepped away from him. “Time to hit the road.”

  Sadly aware that a true reconciliation had just eluded them, Gideon reached for his jacket. “I will call you this evening on my new Smartphone device,” he said as he placed a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. Inclining his head, he kissed her on the cheek. “Try to get some rest.”

  She graced him with a forlorn smile. “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  Chapter 22

  Inundated with fear, Sarah shrieked loudly as she watched the nearby hay bales combust, orange flames shooting in every direction. Peering above her, she saw that the loft was now completely consumed. Soon the entire barn would become a raging furnace. The sight of that fast-moving inferno caused her heart to slam against her breastbone, her entire body shaking as though palsied. She was looking death in the face, and it incited a frenzied panic. And though there was no one to hear her pitiful cry for help, she cried nonetheless.

  Just then, she heard a loud, crackling hiss. It was the only warning she had before the entire hayloft suddenly collapsed, fiery beams crashing to the ground. Within moments, a furious rumble shook the barn as several roof timbers plunged from the ceiling in a roaring blaze of fire, igniting everything they came into contact with. As her lungs filled with smoke, she began to gasp for air, her chest violently heaving with each wracking cough.

  Terror-stricken, Sarah knew she had to move away from the scorching flames that steadily encroached upon her. Gritting her teeth, she tried to scoot toward the barn door. But the moment she moved, she was hit with a burst of excruciating pain that radiated the length of her lower leg. In agony, the pain more than she could bear, she opened her mouth and screamed.

  “Gideon!”

  Like some wild, feral animal, Jessica desperately tried to claw her way back to wakefulness. Although it took several seconds, she finally crash-landed in the conscious realm, relieved to feel wet drops of cool water splashed against her face. That is, until she glanced up at the ceiling.