Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1)

by Spradling, Carol A.

  "You seem confused." Trista peered over at her from a sideways glance. "Have you suffered an injury?"

  Faith touched her hand to the small of her back. She wasn't completely sure she should confide in the woman. "I was thrown from my horse," she said, tentatively.

  The woman nodded. "That should be sufficient."

  "Sufficient? For what?" Faith asked.

  "To allow you the ability to stay with this husband."

  It was odd that she would reference Aidan in such a manner, especially after reminding her that she had been an invited guest to their wedding. Faith thought over what she had said. "This husband. What do you mean by that?"

  Trista stopped her bean snapping and looked over at her blank-faced. "Do you prefer Hank?" She returned the chair to all four legs and gathered the corners of the towel. "After seeing Mr. Valentine, I would think the decision would be easy. Of course, the manner in which you get to stay with him, will not be." She walked to the edge of the porch and tossed the bean trimmings in the yard. "I'm certain Grace would have suggested that you go back to Hank, if she would have helped you at all."

  Faith stood and followed Trista to the pump. "Why do you say that? You talk as though you know a lot about my family. Grace is my sister. She would give me sound advice."

  Trista sat the bowl on top of the water bucket and worked the handle. "Grace is unimportant." She stopped and looked over at Faith. "Make sure you keep your man away from you."

  Faith's facial muscles tensed. "Aidan? Why would I want to do that?"

  Water rushed from the cast iron spigot in the yard, swirling the beans in a clumsy circle. Faith reached her hand to balance the bowl, and Trista pressed down on the handle with a double fisted grip.

  "The fall from the horse will work for a few days," Trista said. "If you whimper, you might be able to get an entire week from it."

  "Are you suggesting that I deny my husband? Even if I wanted to --"

  Trista turned her glare on Faith, pinning her in place. "You will do it if you want to remain with him." She lifted the bowl from the hook and cradled it in front of her. Making her way back to the porch, she spoke over her shoulder. "Or do you want to return to Hank?"

  Faith stayed at the pump, taking in the woman and her advice. Although Trista's shoulders slumped forward, her movements were smooth and languid. Faith thought about the older people she had seen in her church congregation. They generally stopped on each step to rest or gain their footing before moving to the platform, but Trista mounted the stairs without pause. Other than her outward appearance, she demonstrated no frailties. She also knew details about her family that went beyond a casual observation.

  Faith followed behind the woman but stopped at the bottom of the steps and rested her hand on the banister. "How do you know so much about me and my family? And do not go into that house without telling me what I want to know."

  Trista turned sharply and glared down at her. "I gave you answers. Your parents lived in the valley below this hill. You and your sister live there as well. I attended your wedding. And you will do as I say if you want to remain here with this husband." She stepped away from the door of the house and to the edge of the porch. Sunlight lit her face, seeming to change her features to that of a much younger woman. "You do not want to return to Hank. He is dangerous. Faith, please." Her tone softened. "Do not return to Hank."

  Faith's mouth opened, not certain what to make of the woman or her request. "I can't refuse my husband. There has to be another way."

  Trista shook her head. "There isn't. Extreme passion will always return you to the other time."

  Passion. That would explain how she had come back to her life with Aidan. Being thrown off of a cliff and dying could certainly be thought of as passion. And when she had been with Aidan...Her cheeks heated with the memory. "Are you saying I have time traveled?" Faith asked.

  "How else would you explain it?" Trista rested her bowl on the rail and looked down at her.

  "How much time has passed?" Faith asked, her insides starting to shake.

  "Forty years. In this time, you are still twenty years old, the same age as you were with Hank, but Hank is now seventy."

  Faith turned her face upward, an old fear resurfacing. "He is still alive?" Even without him being present, she could feel his criticism descending upon her shoulders.

  Trista left the beans on the porch and moved to the top step. "Yes, he is alive, and that's why you must not go back to him."

  "How do you know all of this?" Faith asked, barely above a whisper. There had to be something that had been overlooked. She wouldn't return to Hank.

  "I have seen many years," Trista said. "And you have enough to consider. You should return home to Aidan, but be careful. He cannot protect you from Hank. Don't fool yourself into thinking he can."

  "I could not protect me from Hank," Faith snapped. An old feeling of helplessness changed to anger, and Faith glared at Trista. She leveled her gaze like a loaded rifle, and dared Trista to flinch. "Why," Faith said, her words as sharp as granite. "Why did you not help me when Hank dragged me to the cliff? You could have stopped him. I doubt he could have accomplished what he did with both of us there."

  Trista turned without answering Faith's question and walked to her front door. Clearly she mistook Faith's question as rhetorical. "All you need to know right now is that passion is the trigger to send you through time," she said. She glanced back over her shoulder. "Your husband awaits you. Return to him before he becomes suspicious."

  "Answer me," Faith shouted, ignoring the woman's warning. Her throat felt as though it bled from the demanding question. She balled her fists at her side, her body becoming ramrod stiff. "I fell from the cliff. Am I dead?"

  The hawk screeched from on top of the roof. His wings spread wide and he launched himself from the peak. With his flanks pinned back, he dove to the ground. His sights were clearly set on his target.

  The chicken. Faith turned to see if the hen was in the yard or if she had sensed impending doom and gone into the coop. The grounds were empty of domestic animals, and Faith breathed a sigh of relief. A scramble of brown and white rolled at the tree edge and Faith gasped. With the bunny grasped tightly in the predator's talons, the bird labored to gain altitude before silently flying over the treetops with his prize. Faith winced, feeling similar sharp claws pierce her skin.

  Chapter 10

  Trista's instructions had been clear. Stay away from Aidan. These words rolled through Faith's mind as she moved down the hillside. It didn't matter how many different ways she considered the meaning, she knew she would never be able to do as she had been told. She pulled a leaf from a bush. The branch snapped back, returning to its original position. Hopefully, the same fate would not be true for her. There had to be another way to remain with Aidan.

  Sunlight peeked in and out of the bushy trees and shrubs, spotting the path in an array of soft lines and shapes. Not watching her footing closely enough, the dirt shifted under her weight, breaking her stride. Faith's arms flailed the air, and her world skittered off center as she tumbled to the ground. She landed hard on her hip, and her elbow dug into the compacted soil. Dirt and debris slid beneath her. Rolling and twisting, she tried to protect her face from the lashing vines and brambles on her way to the bottom of the slope. Her punishment seemed to be unending. Digging her heels into the dirt, she grabbed for bushes and twigs to slow her descent. A protruding rock stabbed her calf in one final assault and jolted her to a stop.

  Faith lay completely still and gasped short, deep breaths. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she hoped blood didn't spill onto the ground around her. Waiting for her heart rate to slow, she finally opened her eyes. Clouds floated above her without a single care. She should have paid closer attention to the path instead of concentrating on her conversation with Trista. Now, she merely hoped to see Aidan one last time.

  Certain that she would live long enough to achieve her goal, she held her hand to her head and pushed herse
lf to a seated position. A warm stickiness trickled down her calf, and her stomach rolled. She was only halfway down the hill. How could she have fallen far enough to inflict so much pain on herself? Not only did she have to scale the rest of the slope, she had to walk back across the meadow to return home. She leaned forward, rested her arms on her knees, and considered what to do next. Brambles and dirt covered her skirt. She flicked her wrist, dusting debris off of her clothes.

  There was no need to sit on the ground any longer. She pulled her skirt up and checked her legs. A few random scratches surrounded a short gash. It had bled freely at first, but now slowed. She stood and flexed her arms and leg. Other than a bruised bottom and the scratch on her calf, she seemed to be whole.

  At least her time travel wasn't triggered by being clumsy or absentminded. She limped toward the bottom of the hill, working the last of the ache from her hip. Time travel. Trista hadn't been surprised by the idea. She actually seemed knowledgeable. Faith glanced over her shoulder. Was the old woman of the ridge a traveler also? That would explain why her appearance had remained unchanged throughout the years.

  Faith stepped the last few feet of the incline and onto level ground. She walked back toward the meadow, stretching her sore leg forward as far as possible. She shifted her weight, increasing the pressure on the limb as she paced. With any luck, she wouldn't limp by the time she returned home. Although...if Trista was correct, a few bruises and gashes would serve her well. She could easily see herself falling in love with Aidan, and she hated the thought of distancing herself from him. The fall would give her time to devise a way to stay with him.

  According to Trista, extreme passion would hurtle her back in time forty years to Hank. She couldn't think of a worse paradox. In order to remain with Aidan, she would have to keep herself from him. The image of his chiseled face and broad shoulders entered her thoughts. Sensual urges coursed through her body, and she blushed at her lustful response. How could she possibly keep herself from the man who had taken such care of her after she fell from her horse? The type of restraint she would need was not going to be an easy feat.

  ****

  The brown shingled roof peaked between the branches ahead of Faith. Her eyes instinctively roamed the property, looking for Aidan. Somewhere on the acreage, he worked hard to provide a meaningful life for the two of them. No doubt he would be sweaty and dirty from his labor. She could imagine him shirtless and glistening in the sunlight, his muscles taut and defined as he wrestled with an immovable obstruction. She lifted her hair from the back of her neck and fanned her sweat drenched skin.

  When she had left him this morning, he had gone to the barn to repair tack. She was certain he would go to the fields afterward to make sure the crops were thriving. Although Trista had told her it wasn't time for her to know more about time traveling, Faith's awareness of Aidan was becoming stronger.

  Movement near the barn caught her attention. The object of her earlier fantasy led his horse from the corral. She raked her teeth over her bottom lip. Even from this distance, Aidan's bare torso glistened over at her, reminding her of when she had fallen. He had been so gentle and caring when he helped her to her feet. His touch contrasted sharply with the harsh way Hank had tried to end her life. Faith closed her eyes and encouraged the ghostly smell of salt and body musk to fill her nose. It took little imagination for her to feel his body heat next to her.

  He shouted a command to his horse, and she looked across the field at him. Riding bareback, he raced the animal for several yards away from the property line, pulled the beast to an abrupt stop, and then reined him to the left for several yards and then back to the right. The animal obeyed without hesitation. Faith smiled with pride.

  Aidan seemed to have a natural instinct with everything he touched. His ability with the livestock was no different. The way he put the animal through a series of paces, he appeared to test the quality of his leather skill. Horse and rider moved comfortably, both seemingly in tune to each other's body language. Aidan's repairs must have been more than adequate for his upcoming trip to Charlotte. Faith couldn't imagine anything not bending to his command, including her. Passion would take him from her. She would have to find a way to remain here in this time.

  The sun sat in the sky at treetop level. She had spent more time with Trista than she planned. Faith lifted her hands and inspected her palms as though expecting something to be there. Mushrooms. She had told Aidan that she would search for them. With nothing to show for a morning of foraging, she would have to improvise with garden vegetables. There was still enough time left in the day to make a hearty soup.

  The garden was laid out to the right side of the house. Faith walked between the lined rows filled with vegetables, ripe for harvest. Her lips spread wide as she followed a curved path. One of the rows bowed in the center before realigning with the potatoes and radishes.

  She bent down and filled her skirt with a variety of beans, carrots, and potatoes. This was a good base for a soup, but she wanted to add something more. A half row of kale wavered in the breeze, seeming to wave her over. She reached her hand to pull free a leaf from its stalk, but stopped as a shadow enveloped the ground around her. Aidan lowered two ears of corn in front of her face, the cobs looking like yellow fangs.

  She reached up and took the vegetable. "Would you like corn in your soup?" she asked, adding the ears to her bounty. She turned and lifted her hand to her brow, shading her eyes. Sunlight ringed Aidan's head like a crown.

  "I would," he answered. He bent down in front of her and looked through her selection. "No mushrooms?" he asked.

  Faith looked down at the ground, unable to look him in the eye with even a slight untruth. "No," she said, not wanting to commit herself to a full fledge lie. "But our meal will still be delicious."

  "You could serve burned bacon and eggs and I wouldn't mind. You are here with me, and that's all I care about."

  Faith pulled back as his words repeated in her thoughts. Hank had not been so receptive of the same meal. She stared over at Aidan, considering the man in front of her. He plucked a tomato from the vine and dusted it on his thigh. Taking a big bite, juice dribbled from the corner of his mouth to his chin. He wiped the back of his hand against the seedy stream and then held the fruit over to her.

  Faith gazed up at him and bit off a piece of the meaty flesh. Nothing had tasted more delicious than this tender morsel. She touched his wrist to keep him from pulling his hand away and sank her teeth deeper into the offering.

  He smiled down at her. Lines formed at the side of his eyes, enhancing warm playfulness. He actually meant what he said. Chewing on her appetizer, she reached her hand to his cheek. He had shaved this morning before going out, but soft bristles sprouted on his cheek.

  "I feel the same way about you," she said. At least that much had been the truth.

  The light in his eyes sparkled to a dangerous glint and he pulled her to her feet. He gathered her into his arms, and she released the bottom of her skirt. Assorted vegetables fell to the ground around them. She breathed in, confirming her earlier assumption. He smelled of salt and musk. These were two odors that she hoped would be with her when she died.

  Her arms slid behind his back, and she offered no apologies for her possessive hold. His warmth drew her cheek to his chest as though the heat fused them together. She sighed, and her breath fluttered his short, brown hairs. Beating under her ear was a rhythm that held her fascination in a way that no composer could ever orchestrate.

  She turned her face to him and pressed up on her toes. If she didn't taste the fullness of his mouth soon, she would wither away. Trista's warning echoed in her distant memory, and Faith wrenched away from it. She had kissed Aidan several times without disappearing. Surely another kiss would not send her into a temporary hell. The lack of his touch, on the other hand, would be torture beyond anything imaginable.

  From the eagerness in which he met her lips, he felt the same way as she did. She opened her mouth and held him
tighter. His tongue brushed against hers and a tingle swept over her. Faith gasped and pulled away. She wiped her finger along the outside of her mouth, and stared up at him. Never had such a sensation shaken her.

  "I'm sorry," he said. He covered his mouth with his hand. "I pulled a sprig of mint on my way from the cornfield. I wasn't aware of your aversion to it."

  His breath was the least of her concerns. Her body had trembled when they kissed. The shudder must be the start of her leaving this time and Aidan. Faith bent down and scrambled to collect the strewn vegetables, her fingers still tingling. "I should get these on the fire," she said.

  Aidan reached for her, and she pulled away. "We can eat them raw," he suggested.

  Faith flinched and kept her attention on the ground. It would be hard to refute his valid point.

  Aidan stepped closer and reached for her arm. Faith was certain she teetered close to the edge of her resolve. "How thoughtless of me," Aidan said, his voice soft and filled with concern. "Your fall. You must still be in pain."

  Faith shook her head. Her hand trembled as she touched her forehead. "I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have..." She brushed past him and headed toward the front of the house.

  "There has to be a way," Faith mumbled in desperation as she entered the cabin. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

  Chapter 11

  Late into the night, Faith slipped from inside the cabin and onto the front step, quietly pulling the door closed behind her. There was no need to wake Aidan with her agitation. He had done nothing to jeopardize his sleep. Their dinner had been eaten in silence, after she refused to answer his questions about her bewildering state. She still didn't know how to explain her behavior in the garden. He had stormed into the bedroom, reluctantly giving her time alone. From the main room, she could hear him walk the floor in strong, even strides. The restless noise had quieted an hour ago.