A Wife in Time (Silhouette Desire)

by Linz, Cathie

  She kissed his jaw even as he was grappling with the condom, ripping it from its container with his teeth and hurriedly putting it on. There wasn’t room for him to see what he was doing but he voiced no complaint. Instead he told her in a rough and husky whisper exactly what he was going to do to her any second now....

  A flash of lightning lit their way as, at his urging, she guided him to her, gasping as he came into her, filling the aching void. But there was much more joy to come. This time the pleasure was even more intense than last time, the friction even greater. It was incredible!

  Thunder growled outside. Growling her name, Kane kept his feet on the ground, and slowly set the chair rocking.

  Her eyes met his in startled delight—as the chair rocked back, she slid forward, until he was embedded even deeper within her. And when the chair rocked forward, she slipped back. The motion created by him moving inside her was simply awesome and beyond anything she’d ever experienced before. Kane’s clasped hands rested on the small of her back and he tightened his hold on her as he made good on his whispered promises.

  A sudden gust of wind blew the rain in through the open window. Susannah felt the cool raindrops hitting her skin, sliding down her spine, contrasting sharply with the pulsing warmth lodged within her. The combination took her to another plateau of pleasure.

  Throwing her head back, she clung to the wooden back of the chair, her fingers curling tighter as the inner ecstasy continued to grow. The ensuing arch of her back placed her full breasts within easy reach of Kane’s seductive mouth. The renegade swirl of his tongue as he laved her nipples aroused the tender tips to taut attention. Lifting his head, he then blew on her dampened skin before lowering his head and starting the process all over again.

  This time the tugging motion of his mouth coincided with the sliding thrust as he tilted the rocking chair way back, thrusting upward with his hips and impaling her. Working on instinct, Susannah slid her feet around to the small of his back and braced them there, keeping Kane right where he was as the ecstasy crescendoed. The moment was frozen in time, witnessed by the heavens above and captured by the lightning cleaving the sky. A rumble of thunder drowned out most of her breathless scream as she found heavenly satisfaction.

  Feeling her tightening around him, Kane surrendered to his own shuddering climax.

  * * *

  “You want to what?” Kane asked in husky amazement.

  “We need to burn that condom you took off.”

  “The blasted thing was on inside out. What good is a ribbed condom if you put it on inside out?”

  “It felt just fine to me,” she said with a catlike grin of satisfaction. “Better than fine. Incredible, in fact!”

  “Is that why you want to burn it?”

  “You can’t use it again and there is no other sure way to dispose of it here. I doubt that latex has even been invented yet. So you’d better burn both those condoms you used tonight. After all, you can’t leave twentieth-century evidence like that lying about.”

  “I didn’t plan on leaving them just lying about,” he grumbled.

  “Better safe than sorry. I’ve been moving that fire screen and burning all the rest of the twentieth-century trash in a sheet of newspaper in the fireplace.”

  Seeing the wisdom of such a move, Kane did as she suggested.

  Watching him, Susannah was sorry to see the sucker go up in smoke. “How many condoms do you have left?”

  Kane checked his wallet on the way back from the fireplace.

  ”A few.” “Then we’d better save them for later.”

  “Good idea.”

  Wrapping a sheet around her, he tucked her onto his lap, her head resting on his bare shoulder as they watched the rest of the storm pass by. Susannah fell asleep with the knowledge lodged deep in her heart that she loved this man, and would love him forever.

  * * *

  “I have a feeling things are going to start moving very quickly on this case,” Oliver told Kane and Susannah when they checked in with him for a progress report a few days later.

  “Great. Now I’ve got two of you making decisions based on feelings.”

  “There are worse things,” Susannah said.

  Kane nodded and gave her one of his trademark grins. “I suppose there are.”

  Worse things... Susannah wondered if Kane believed her now about her not having been involved with his brother. She was afraid to ask him outright, not wanting to ruin this magical time together. He’d acted as if he were in love with her, showing her new ways of making love, delighting her with his tender creativity, spending his time with her and sharing confidences.

  The days raced by. She didn’t want this time to end. But she was running out of her heart pills; there were now only three left. And they’d used all but one of Kane’s condoms. They were also running short of money, Kane had told her. Real short.

  “This case has turned out to be one of my most challenging,” Oliver was saying.

  Kane knew all about challenging. Challenging was falling for the woman his brother loved.

  * * *

  Susannah had been skirting the piano for her entire stay at the boardinghouse, but the next afternoon she could resist no longer. Mrs. B. had told her that guests were invited to play. And Kane wasn’t there to see her make a fool of herself. He’d gotten a note two hours ago and said he had to go out. She’d teasingly asked him if the letter had been from Polly. Kane had kissed her with enough passion to convince her that he had no energy left over for anyone else. And then he’d told her so, before putting on his bowler and heading out the door.

  Leaving Susannah behind...

  Sighing, she trailed her fingers over the keyboard. It had been so long since she’d played. She sat down and, settling her new Victorian shoes on the foot pedals, started picking out a few tunes, including “The Piano Man” by Billy Joel, before remembering that the Grammy-award winner had gotten her in enough trouble as it was. Gerta still kept her distance and crossed herself three times whenever she saw Susannah.

  “That’s an unusual tune,” Professor Hering observed from the doorway. “Almost has an African tonal quality to it. Is it an old slave spiritual from the cotton fields, perhaps?”

  Nope, it’s just rock and roll, Susannah thought to herself with a grin.

  “I play a bit myself,” the professor went on to say. “Perhaps you would allow me...?”

  Nodding, she changed places with him. He opened the sheet music and chose a piece. “This is one of my favorites by Stephen Foster. Perhaps you’ve heard it?”

  He started playing “My Old Kentucky Home.”

  By the time he was through, the Abernathy sisters had joined them in the front parlor and were standing around the piano singing the next Foster selection, “Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair.” As Mrs. B. added her clear soprano to the chorus of voices, Susannah got a lump in her throat. In this time period, music was a group effort, without the solitary headphones that cut you off from the rest of society. When the professor launched into a robust version of “Oh! Susanna,” in her honor, even Mikey was present to join in.

  Kane walked in as they finished up the final chorus. Susannah could tell from his face that something momentous had occurred.

  Hurrying over to him, she said, “What happened?”

  “We need to talk upstairs.”

  Nodding, she made her excuses to the group.

  Gathering her light blue calico skirt in one hand, she rushed upstairs, glad that today she was wearing one of the older, fuller skirts. Since she’d stayed inside, she’d gotten away with wearing a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up and no jacket. As always, she wore her great-grandmother’s garnet jewelry set. Her hand sought the necklace as if for reassurance. “What is it? What’s happened?” she repeated the second she stepped foot into their room.

  Closing the door, Kane said, “It’s news about Elsbeth’s murderer. We’ve cracked the case.”

  “You have?”

 
He nodded. “That note I got earlier was from Oliver. He and the police and I went over to Mrs. Hilton’s place.”

  “Mrs. Hilton!”

  “That’s right. A servant came forward after Oliver started investigating her husband’s death, saying she remembered the strange smell of almonds in the medicine that Mrs. Hilton had her give her husband. The doctor emphatically stated that the medicine he prescribed would have no such smell—but arsenic would. Upon confrontation, Mrs. Hilton broke down and confessed.”

  “To killing Elsbeth?” Susannah asked.

  “Well, no. Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time. And speaking of time, we need to get back to our own century. Better get your rented clothes on and gather up your stuff for the trip back,” he said as he hurriedly changed into the clothes he’d time traveled in. “Or should I say the trip forward?”

  Did he have to look so happy about it? Couldn’t he have shown some regret at leaving this magical place where they’d fallen in love? Or was it only the magical place where she had fallen in love, while he’d merely had sex with her?

  Not that there had been anything the least bit merely about what they’d shared. But he still hadn’t declared his feelings for her. Susannah’s smile was bittersweet at the old-fashioned nature of her words. This was an era when men declared their love and wooed their women. It was also a time when women had few rights and were still considered men’s property in many states.

  She’d done what Elsbeth had wanted her to do—to clear Elsbeth’s name of the accusation of having committed suicide. If Susannah had fallen in love with Kane along the way, she had no one to blame but herself.

  Regarding Elsbeth, Susannah was still having a hard time accepting the idea that Mrs. Hilton was guilty of killing her. She silently appealed to the ghost for confirmation but got the distinct impression that Elsbeth honestly didn’t know who had pushed her, she only knew she hadn’t fallen down those stairs by herself.

  “I need to go check with Oliver at his office,” Kane was saying. “See if Mrs. Hilton has confessed to Elsbeth’s death yet. I’ll be back in an about an hour.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No. You stay here. I’d feel better knowing you were okay. Besides, you need to settle our bill with Mrs. B. and tell her we’ll be leaving tonight. We’re going home.”

  Drifting up from downstairs were the sounds of voices continuing their appreciation of Foster’s greatest hits by singing “Old Folks at Home.”

  Kane absently pecked Susannah on the cheek as he rushed back out again. She sank onto the rocking chair, her thoughts in a turmoil. They were going back home. She should be glad. And she was. But she was also sad. And apprehensive.

  It wasn’t as if they were jumping a 727 from LaGuardia. What if Elsbeth didn’t have the power to get them back to their own time? What if they were stuck in the Victorian era? What if they landed in the wrong time? When you traveled you missed connections all the time. Or lost your luggage. But landing twenty years or so off base could be devastating in their situation.

  It didn’t take her long to gather up their belongings. She carefully checked the room, making sure that nothing incriminating was left behind. Then she changed out of her skirt and blouse into the rented red velvet dress she’d worn what felt like so long ago.

  Chronologically, it had only been less than two weeks ago. Spiritually, it felt like a lifetime.

  After doing up her side zipper, she came back into the room, automatically reaching for the parasol and her borrowed hat before remembering that where she was going, she wouldn’t need them. Taking them downstairs, she returned them to Mrs. B. and broke the news of their imminent departure.

  “I’m sorry not to have given you more warning,” Susannah told her as they sat on a Victorian bench in the far corner of what was in effect a greenhouse-conservatory out the back of the parlor. “I never did get around to touring that scientific kitchen of yours, but I’m sure it’s lovely. And please thank Cook for giving me that recipe for boiled turkey with oyster sauce. It truly was delicious the way she prepared it.”

  “But where are you off to in such a great hurry? And so late—it’s almost time for the evening meal. It will be dark before you know it. The weather outside has been most peculiar all day. There is such a chill in the air, and the mist coming off the river is making travel difficult.”

  “We’re going home,” Susannah said.

  “Back to France? But there’s no boat leaving Savannah at this late hour.”

  “Kane has made special arrangements. We’ve had word...and we must leave right away.”

  “I shall miss you,” Mrs. B. said.

  Susannah hugged the woman, before handing her the hat and parasol she’d borrowed. “And I want you to have these boots, also. I know we’re of a similar size.”

  “But you just bought these boots,” Mrs. B. protested.

  “I know. But I can’t use them at home.” Actually, she could—this style was all the rage now—but she was afraid that wearing anything from this time might prevent them from making the leap to their own century. “I want you to have them. As a sign of my gratitude for all you’ve done during our visit here.”

  Mrs. B. reached out and a second later the two women were in a tearful embrace.

  “What’s all this?” Professor Hering inquired.

  “Mrs. Wilder is leaving us,” Mrs. B. said, wiping the corners of her eyes with her apron.

  Whereupon Susannah said her goodbyes to the Abernathy sisters, Professor Hering, and of course, Mikey.

  “I’ll never forget you,” Mikey said, indulging in a momentary show of affection by giving her a quick, fierce hug while whispering in her ear, “And I’ll never tell nobody about that magic card of your husband’s I seen. And I won’t steal wallets no more. And I’ll miss you,” he added in a choked voice before running out of the room.

  “I’ll miss you, too, Mikey,” Susannah murmured.

  She’d miss them all. The Abernathy sisters reciting the history of Savannah or relishing the latest sentimental novel by Mrs. Southworth, the professor proudly bragging about his young country’s many accomplishments or playing Stephen Foster melodies on the piano, Mrs. B. raising her eyebrows and trying to give motherly fashion advice in the kindest way possible, and Mikey. Susannah blinked away tears. She’d miss Mrs. B. and Mikey most of all.

  * * *

  “What do you mean, there’s a complication?” Kane demanded, upon reaching Oliver’s office.

  “There’s no need to shout, my good fellow. I haven’t lost my hearing yet.”

  “Just your memory. Mrs. Hilton confessed to killing Elsbeth,” Kane reminded the detective.

  “Actually, she only confessed to killing her husband, if you’ll recall.”

  “What happened after I left?”

  “Well, you remember the scenario as we knew it. We had an alibi for Hayward Whitaker.”

  Kane nodded impatiently. “He was in the living room at the time of Elsbeth’s death, with a maid who had been called in to start a fire in that room. The maid swears she was with Hayward when they heard the sound of Elsbeth screaming and falling down the stairs. Mrs. Hilton was supposedly still in the study but no witnesses could place her there at the exact moment.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And now what’s happened? Has the maid recanted her story? Was Whitaker the one who did it?”

  “No, the maid is not changing her story. But she did add an interesting piece of information.”

  “Which was?”

  “When we went over her story again, this time she happened to mention in passing that Mr. Whitaker’s law clerk had briefly stopped by earlier in the evening with some papers to give to Mr. Whitaker.”

  “Gordon Stevens?”

  “That’s right.”

  Kane’s skin chilled as he remembered Susannah telling him not to forget there were three suspects. He could have had a dangerous obsession with her. It happens. Quiet, seemingly normal guys
create a fantasy life of their own that has nothing to do with reality.

  “And what does Gordon Stevens have to say about this?” Kane asked.

  “That’s just the problem. He seems to have disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “That’s correct. And what’s more, Mr. Whitaker says the papers Gordon Stevens brought that evening were not of sufficient importance for the clerk to have made a special trip on a Sunday evening.”

  Kane swore softly. “Does Gordo know we’re on to him?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Gordon Stevens. Does he know about our suspicions? Does he know we’re looking for him?”

  “I can’t say for certain at this point, but deduction would lead one to believe that he does, judging by his recent disappearance.”

  “I’ve got to get back to the boardinghouse.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Oliver interjected. “Perhaps your wife will have some insight into the situation. She does seem to have a sixth sense about these things. She never did believe that Mrs. Hilton was guilty.”

  “I know. Come on, let’s hurry. I don’t feel comfortable with Susannah there and this nut on the loose.”

  “Nut?”

  “Maniac, weirdo. Come on, let’s go.”

  Kane set almost a jogging pace back to the boardinghouse, only to find that Susannah was gone.

  “Gone? What do you mean, gone?” Kane demanded of a startled Mrs. B. “Where did she go?”

  “She didn’t tell me. I wanted her to take Mikey with her. The professor offered to accompany her, but she refused both offers. She left shortly after supper. As soon as she got that note, in fact.”

  Kane pounced on that bit of information. “What note?”

  “The one that came for her.”

  “Who sent it?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “I do,” Mikey piped up from his seat on the top step of the stairway.

  “What are you doing out of bed at this time of night?” Mrs. B. chastised him.

  “What makes you think you know where Mrs. Wilder went, Mikey?” Oliver asked the young boy.

  “‘Cause I saw the note, that’s why.”