"Calm yourself, Love," Aidan said. "You'll be fine. Nothing seems to be broken. You just got the wind knocked from you. Maybe we should cancel our picnic so you can go home and rest."
His voice sounded familiar and his face held the same compassioned look she had seen last night in her dream. She blinked several times and reached for his hand. "Aidan?"
Faith remained flat on the ground, unable to take her eyes off of him. All morning she had thought of nothing but a dreamlike memory, remembering scarce glimmers of the tenderness he had shown when holding her. Every nuance of their night together rushed back to her, reminding her of the painful pleasure they had shared. She had matched his passion without embarrassment, crying out when he had taken her to heights Hank had never come close to achieving.
A few hours ago, she had thought Aidan Valentine was a figment of her imagination. He now knelt beside her, sweating, breathing, and searching her face. His own features were etched like a pencil drawing, heavily marked with fear and concern. She forced her eyelids to remain open, and refused to give him even the smallest of opportunities to disappear into thin air. Reaching her hand to his, she wanted tangible proof of his existence even more than she craved her next breath.
He answered her touch and cupped her arm to his chest, caressing her limb with warm, tender strokes. If he didn't stop staring at her with the same smoldering gaze she remembered from last night, she would no longer care if she ever breathed again.
"You're real," she said, her words raspy, but no longer in need of convincing. Her memories from her night with Aidan filled in the gaps of her sketchy memory with amazing clarity.
"Yes, and so was your fall," he said, and looked toward the horse standing to the side of a leafy, oak tree.
The broad-chested palomino snorted and pawed the ground. Bigger than other geldings, his pale-colored coat was deceptive of a gentle spirit. He stared down at Faith as though blaming her for her accident.
"If anything had happened to you," Aidan said, running his hand through his dark hair. "I would have fed that nag's bludgeoned remains to the pigs."
Faith pulled against Aidan's grip and tried to lift her back off of the ground.
"Do you need more time to rest?" he asked. "Our plans can wait until later today or even until tomorrow."
She braced one arm behind her back and glanced up at him, curious as to what else awaited them. Whatever his agenda, she would take things at a slow pace and with a watchful eye on her mount. She blew out her breath, reassured that her lungs were functioning properly. Not certain how she had managed to leave Hank and her ultimate death, she had landed at Aidan's feet, and with life still flowing through her veins. None of it made sense, but he talked to her as though she had been with him all morning. Clearly, she had not. It might be best for her to blame her rattled thoughts on her fall while she tried to understand what was happening to her.
"What have you planned?" she asked.
He cringed and tilted his head downward, resembling a boy whose first crush had been exposed. Faith's heart leapt in her chest. She might not know the reason she was with him, but she was certain that Aidan Valentine was worth the pain she endured to get here.
His tongue jutted out from between his teeth, wetting his lips. What would it have been like to share this man's virginal kiss? Her lips tingled at the thought of pressing her mouth to his. They weren't chaperoned-aged youths who had to sneak affectionate displays and longing glances. Some other girl may have enjoyed Aidan's transition into manhood, but Faith hoped she would be the woman who would taste his mouth last.
"I meant it to be a surprise," Aidan said, and helped her to her feet. He held his hands inches away from her while she balanced her weight.
She clutched his forearms. "I'm learning to love surprises."
He laughed, and Faith's heart melted. If she never heard another sound in her life but one, she would want it to be Aidan's voice. His baritone pitch wrapped her in a warmth that no fire could match.
"I know you do," he said. His grin would cure any pains she had. "That's why I planned it."
She shook her head, and her balance slowly locked in place. "Do I have to wait until tomorrow to find out what the surprise is? I'm not in any pain." She smiled up at him, hoping to convince him to proceed with his plans.
He turned his head and looked at her with a sideways glance. "Are you certain you can ride? We still have a little further to go."
Faith peeked to the side of his shoulder and glared at her horse. "I can, and I'll pay close attention to the palomino."
"I can ride him if you like. Hank won't try anything with me in control."
Faith froze, and her stomach fell to her feet. Her hands shook, and she released Aidan's arm before he could become aware of her trembling. She didn't need him to think her lost composure was due to her fall. Clearing her throat, she tried to keep her voice from faltering.
"Hank?" she asked. "Why would Hank try anything with you?"
Aidan shrugged and walked to the palomino. Gathering the reins, he led the animal back to Faith. "If he managed to unseat you, he might try it with me." Aidan leaned forward and whispered. "I think I might be more of a challenge for him, not that you aren't capable of keeping him in line. He just needs to know from the start, I am aware of what he is capable of and be convinced that I will have none of it." The horse snorted and jerked his head to the side, seeming to refute Aidan's statement.
Faith stared into the soul of the large-eyed beast, her strength gaining as she entered the dark abyss. Issuing her own threat, she took the reins from Aidan and lifted her chin. "You're right," she said. "I can handle Hank. He will not hurt me again."
****
Faith sat in the saddle and let her horse walk half a length behind Aidan's gelding, finding it uncomfortable to ride a mount named Hank. She glanced at the man to her left. His back flexed and swayed, moving in rhythm with his horse. It was all she could do to keep from throwing herself at him and continue the events they had enjoyed on their wedding night. He had promised her a surprise, which was apparently located at an unknown destination. Instead of enjoying the scenery and fragrant aroma of the meadow while they traveled, she considered the events of the morning and all the things that led up to her fall.
An earthy smell had surrounded her. She was certain the hearty scent had existed. Her hand rose absently to her chest, and she massaged her shoulder muscles. The odor had become strong and suffocating. She drew her brows together in thought. Perhaps this was what had prompted her fall from the palomino.
Instead of escaping the stifling inhibitions, the memory of intensity and fear enshrouded her. She shook herself free of the feeling, refusing to physically return to the cold emptiness of her world with Hank. The palomino shuddered beneath her. Understanding his warning, Faith grabbed a tighter hold on the reins. She may be curious to know what had led up to her transfer to Aidan, but she had no intention of repeating it.
The smell of cooked bacon still lingered in her thoughts. She eased back into the memory, careful to not lose sight of Aidan. Wagging her head from side to side, she tried to shift the pieces into a structured order.
She and Hank had been at the cliff on the ridge. He had clutched her wrist and dragged her, beating her with his fist along the way. The pain had twisted away from her as she fell over the edge, and the speed of the horse had caught her. She jerked at the connection of her two worlds. This had to be what had caused the palomino to stop abruptly.
She ran her hand over the horse's neck, offering her forgiveness. The revised memories with Hank were complete in her thoughts, while she couldn't remember anything of her time with Aidan except for their wedding night. She absently reached her hand behind her head and then looked at her fingertips. There was no blood. The area wasn't even tender. A calmness she had never experienced had set in after the throbbing. Not peaceful or numbing, just an unexplainable quiet.
Aidan's voice had broken through the silence with reassuring and c
omforting words. She looked over at him. A reflexive smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She may not be aware of how or why she lived a conjoined life with two different men, but she knew that she would always smile when thinking of Aidan.
He reached toward her and took her hand. "Your reins, Madame," he said.
The rest of the details concerning their life together could wait for another time. Aidan had her attention and she was beyond intrigued to know what he planned for their afternoon. She lifted a brow in his direction, but dutifully obeyed.
"Now close your eyes," he commanded.
Lowering her lids, she couldn't help but crack one eyelid open.
"No peeking," he scolded.
She giggled, and the horse moved forward. Grabbing for the saddle, she held to the leather until her mount stopped moving.
Soft lips touched hers and a deep voice whispered against her mouth. "Open your eyes."
Obeying, Faith sought the face of the man who had spoken. Aidan's face beamed next to her, clearly anxious to see her reaction. He swept his hand in front of them, and she followed the direction he indicated.
A patchwork quilt lay on the ground near a creek bank. Anchoring one corner, a basket looked as though it was filled with tasty treats. A handful of flowers lay at the center of the pallet.
"Oh," Faith sighed. She placed her hands on Aidan's shoulders and slid from Hank's back. "You did this for me?"
"Do you like it?" he asked. Aidan's eyes remained on her, growing softer with her excitement.
"I love it. Thank you." She pushed up on tiptoe and touched her lips to his. No one had ever gone to such lengths for her. She didn't need to taste any of the food. Nothing could top the excitement of knowing that Aidan had prepared the afternoon with her in mind. He caught her by the waist and gazed down at her. The loving look he shared seemed to indicate his enjoyment stemmed from her pleasure.
She held to his side as they walked to the picnic site. Caught up in the thoughtfulness of this man, she surmised that their quilt might serve a double purpose this afternoon. It was good that she had no lingering effects or aches from earlier. She snuggled into his embrace, squeezing him tightly.
"You did all of this for me. Now, let me take care of you," she said.
His eyebrows rose in question. She pointed to a place on the blanket, and sat down next to the basket. Disappointment dulled the sparkle he held in his eyes as she surveyed the contents of the basket. She was amazed at the thoroughness in which he had packed. Everything from bread to cake was stuffed into the container. Sharing a quilt with Aidan in the daytime was becoming as enjoyable as their night together. She handed him a chicken leg, but refused to release it. Teasing him, she waited for him to see the depth of her appreciation.
Aidan released the meat and pulled Faith too him. She giggled into his shoulder, and then gasped. Catching her breath, she pushed against Aidan's chest. A dark splotch of color moved in front of the tree line. A woman stood watching them from the other side of the creek bank. She seemed to wait until Faith saw her and then moved into the thicket. Faith stared after her. There was no mistaking who she was. Her appearance was recognizable and distinct, but what was she doing here? In all of the years Faith had known of her existence, the old woman had never left the ridge.
Faith thought for a moment and wiped her fingers on a cloth. When she had talked with the woman this morning, the crone had mentioned Aidan by name. It was no wonder she didn't seem surprised to see the two of them together. Faith rubbed the back of her neck, and tried to hide her confused expression from Aidan. Even if that was true, why had the woman not been surprised to see that she was still alive?
Aidan slowly unwrapped Faith's fingers from around his shoulders and then looked in the direction she stared.
"Don't let her bother you," he said. "She never comes to this side of the creek. Now that she knows we are here, she will most likely return to her home."
"Her home?" Faith asked.
"Yes. On the other side of the hill." He picked up a chicken leg and bit off a mouthful of dark meat. "She sold this property to me, to us, before the wedding. My guess is, she saw the picnic before we arrived and waited to see who it belonged to. I know she seems a little odd, but I doubt she would harm anyone."
"She lives on the other side of the hill, did you say?"
He reached for a loaf of bread. "Technically on the ridge, but she owns the property covering the entire hillside."
Trying to follow all that had happened, Faith handed him a wedge of cheese and a knife. He sliced off a chunk and handed it to her. She nibbled at the lump and glanced around. How could she have not recognized the area?
As a youngster, she had roamed and explored every meadow, hillside, and creek bank surrounding her home. Glancing over at a towering elm tree, she thought back to a Saturday afternoon when she was seven. Her father had warned her that the tree was too young to hold her weight. She hadn't listened, choosing to climb the full eight feet of bark and limbs as proof of her mature knowledge.
She coughed and reached for the glass Aidan lifted to his mouth. Her ankle still ached in the winter, reminding her of the break she had suffered while challenging her father's experience. She rubbed the spot on her leg and trailed her eyes upward to the top of the thirty foot timber. When had this tree added an additional twenty two feet? That much height in thirteen years was not a likely growth rate for timber.
She refilled her glass and drank again, deep and without ceasing until the entire amount was drained. The area, while familiar, was not exactly as she had remembered it. If she had been able to move from one place to another, maybe she had traveled through time as well. She had thought traveling from one place to another was difficult to accept. Time travel was impossible. But it would explain why an area so familiar to her was also so different. She would have to explore the area the first chance she got and see if there was anything left from her old life, including Hank.
Chapter 8
Faith held the cabin door open for Aidan and watched as he set the picnic basket on the table. A bowl filled with onions sat on the work bench in front of them. At one time, there was a patch of ground not far from her home that grew an abundance of wild mushrooms. The oak trees shaded the fertile soil in the area, allowing a minimal amount of daylight to pass through the heavy canopy. If things remained the way it was now, whenever now was, as they did then, she might be able to provide a nice meal after scouting out the area.
Aidan crouched on his hands and knees, and rummaged through a basket near the fireplace. She hated to leave him for even an hour, but if she was right about location traveling, not to mention possible time traveling, she needed to find a way to stay in this time permanently. He tilted the wooden box to its side and jiggled the contents.
She leaned over his shoulder and peered down at the container. Aidan lifted bits of wood and rags from one side of the carton to the other. She may not know how she came to be his wife, but there was no mistaking why.
The muscles in his broad shoulders worked back and forth, sliding under his skin like a wave. The very motion beckoned for her to reach her hand and touch him. The ends of his hair rested on his shoulders. Her hand could easily get lost in his thick, brown locks. Emotions stirred within her, melting any resolve she could muster. She stepped closer, responding as though pulled by strings.
Stopping, she stepped away from him and shook herself. What was she thinking? He may have a, most assuredly, intimate knowledge of her, and according to him, they may indeed be married, but she had never seen this man, in a dream or in the flesh, before last night.
What a cruel hoax it would be, if this was merely another dream. There had to be an old, wise tale she could use to determine if she was awake or not. She could pinch herself. Wasn't that one method of testing your awareness?
Aidan leaned forward onto his hands and knees. Faith tilted her head to the side, increasing her view, and bit on her bottom lip. In front of her, Aidan's broad back tapere
d nicely into a taut waist, and his leg muscles flexed as he searched the area behind the wood box. She cocked one brow, and slid her tongue across her mouth. Instead of pinching herself to know if she was in a dream, it would be much more tempting to nip Aidan's backside, and he was in a prime position for such a test. Why, indeed, should she rouse herself awake, when this man was everything she would hope for in a husband?
She stood within an arm's reach of him. He did consider her to be his wife. Maybe a small touch on his shoulder, although not as provocative as what she had originally thought, would accomplish her goal. Good gracious, she had kissed him only an hour ago. Even that innocent gesture had caught her off guard, but that one sample was enough of a taste to know she wanted more.
He sat back on his heels, and Faith reached her arm forward, touching her hand to his shoulder. "What are you looking for?" she asked, trying to suppress a devilish leer. He had no idea how close he came to being accosted on the main room floor.
He slid the crate back in place and stood to his feet. "I thought I put an awl in here last week, but I don't see it now."
"Why would a barn tool be in the house?" she asked. A diversion might be what she needed to keep her inner thoughts from him. She emptied the picnic basket of its contents and tucked it under the work table.
"The new bridle I fashioned needs holes punched through the leather. For the past few days, I planned to work on it after dinner. But something," a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes, and he pulled her into his arms, "has captured my attention." He bent his head and kissed her lightly on the mouth.
Did he have any idea what he was doing? He saw her as his bride, but Aidan was still unfamiliar to her, and the attraction she felt toward him was hard to resist. She stared up at him, her lungs desperately needing air. There was something in the way he looked at her. One glance from him, one touch of his hand, and everything surrounding them drifted away from her. She wondered if this was what had originally drawn her to him. Whether it was or not, it was what drew her to him now, and she wanted it to never end.
Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1) Page 5