Dream Weaver

by Shirley Martin

  "Gwen?"

  "'O.K'," she explained. "Everyone says it in the time I come from. It means 'all right'. But you don't believe me about that--about my time--so no point in discussing it." She threw him a hopeful look. "Don't you think I speak more like you and the Chamberlains now?"

  "Um, you're making progress."

  She removed her hat, then lay back on the warm grass. "It's too nice a day to discuss my, uh, linguistic idiosyncrasies," she murmured as she closed her eyes. "I could sleep here all afternoon."

  Christian stretched out on his side next to her. "Why waste time sleeping? I can think of better things to do," he said, easing closer to her. Bracing his elbow on the ground, he raised himself and looked down at her. He swept a stray lock of hair from her cheek, then bent low to kiss her there.

  "Christian..." She slid her arms across his back, drawing him nearer, loving the warmth of his hard body, feeling the muscles in his back and arms. She sighed. If only she could stay with Christian forever, forget her worries about returning to her own time. But above all else, saving Christian's life and her own.

  He left a trail of kisses from her ear to her breast. He lay partway across her, kissing her deeply, moving his lips against hers with a tantalizing pressure that left her wanting more than just his kisses.

  Deep sighs and moans echoed in her ears, and she realized they were her sighs and moans.

  "Gwen!" His body pressing on hers, he caressed her, his hand warm on her breast, his sighs mingling with hers. His quickened breathing excited her like the most passionate kiss. Alarm bells rang in her head.

  They had to stop, or soon they'd reach the point of no return. But she didn't want Christian's lovemaking to end. She wanted his kisses and caresses to go on and on. She didn't care where it led them. Or tried not to care.

  "Christian, I--"

  "Shh, don't talk." His hand roamed across her body, his fingers insistent. Despite the cool air, warmth radiated from his body, his passion evident in his touch, his kisses.

  Was this what she wanted, to let him have his way with her when he wouldn't even commit himself? He hadn't said a word about love, not once. And she wanted more than just a fling. She wanted a commitment. She loved him, and never more than at this moment. Yet how could she get him to marry her if he didn't love her?

  "Christian," she said, easing away from him. "We have to stop."

  "Yes, I know," he said, his voice muffled against the hollow of her throat. He raised himself to study her face. "If you hadn't stopped me... Surely you know how much I want you, but not like this, never like this."

  Like what, then? Gwen wanted to ask but didn't dare risk the question.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Shivering, Gwen stared out the window in the common room, seeing bare trees that dotted the hills and valleys, a precursor of winter. The glass pane rattled in the wind,

  and cold air seeped into the room, fluttering the curtains. Christmas would arrive before she knew it, but did people celebrate Thanksgiving in the eighteenth century? She'd ask Rebecca, but in the meantime, now might be a good time to make Christmas gifts for all the Chamberlains. She fingered the lace curtains, wondering if she should make a gift for Christian. With a mental shrug, she turned away from the window. She'd deal with that problem later.

  Christian had moved back to his own house several weeks ago, and that was just fine with her. Now she didn't have to act so nonchalantly every minute, fearing she'd reveal her love for him. She didn't have to hear his sexy voice all the time, or see his easygoing smile or watch his tall figure as he moved about the house. She didn't have to see the many moods that chased themselves across his face. Now she could miss him.

  She indulged in the Sunday afternoon quiet while the rest of the family visited a neighbor and Molly stayed for the day with her married brother. Settled in the kitchen, she swallowed a bite of corn bread and raised a cup of sassafras tea to her mouth, unable to keep thoughts and images of Christian from her mind. Logs burned in the wide fireplace, crackling and sending off sparks, filling the room with a comfortable warmth.

  Lumi napped close to the hearth, his soft snores audible in the silence of the room.

  A knock on the door caught her by surprise, making her hand shake, spilling her tea.

  "Lieutenant Shelbourne," she said moments later. "It's always so nice to see you. Come on in."

  "Miss Emrys." Richard removed his tricorne and bowed, then stepped inside, looking around cautiously.

  "I'm alone today," she said, leading him to the Windsor chair in the common room.

  Flashing her a smile, Richard took a seat, placing his tricorne on the oaken table. "Miss Emrys,” he said without preamble, “I wanted to talk to you. I intend to sell my commission soon, return to England."

  "I'll miss you." And she would, too. "How soon will you leave for England?"

  He squirmed in his chair, his gaze darting around the room, prompting Gwen to wonder what bothered him. "I'll leave within a matter of weeks, but not alone, I hope. I...I would have you come with me--"

  Gwen caught her breath.

  "--as my wife. The chaplain at the fort can marry us," Richard continued in a rush of words, "with thirty days to post the banns. You'd not lack for anything, Miss Emrys--may I call you Gwen?--and please rest assured that I'd take care of you and honor you as my wife. I...I have come to think much of you, so would you do me the honor of marrying me?"

  "Lieutenant, I--"

  "You don't need to give me a reply now. But I pray you, at least consider it."

  "Well, I..." A thought flashed through her mind that in only a few months in this crazy wilderness, she'd already received two proposals of marriage. Yet she feared the one man she desired would never want her as a wife. How that hurt.

  "Lieutenant, it wouldn't be fair to give you the impression that I'd consider your proposal. You know I think a lot of you," she said, wincing at his stricken face. "You're a good man, one I'm pleased to call my friend. And I just know one day you'll make some lucky lady a fine husband. But you've got to realize everyone I know is here in Pennsylvania."

  "You would come to know many people in England." He gave her a hopeful look. "We have many friends, much socializing."

  "Not the same." She twisted her fingers in her lap, trying to be as tactful as possible, so sorry she had to hurt his feelings. "And Richard, you know I admire you so much. I've enjoyed your company more than I can say. But that's not the same as love."

  He scowled. "It's Norgard, isn't it?"

  "Nothing could be further from the truth," Gwen said with a smile. "Dr. Norgard and I have little in common, and a lot separates us, not just distance." More than two-hundred years. "He's a dedicated doctor, and I..." She made a fluttering gesture, not knowing what more she could say.

  "You're a lovely lady, Gwen, one any man would be proud to call his wife."

  The intense look on his face told her he meant every word. She hated herself for disappointing him, but she knew she had no choice.

  "Thanks for the compliment, Lieutenant. There are some who might not agree with you." "Then they are fools."

  After a few minutes of desultory conversation, Richard Shelbourne walked out of the house, leaving Gwen with a sad and empty feeling, as if she had lost a dear friend. And come to think of it, she had lost a very good friend. Still, with her refusal, she knew she'd made the right decision.

  * * *

  On a cold, sunny morning while Rebecca and Molly worked in the kitchen, Gwen sat at the long table in the common room, cutting a length of linen to make a detachable pocket for Rebecca. Gwen recalled losing a couple of coins from the pocket Rebecca had lent her on her last trip to Fort Pitt, so a new pocket sounded like a worthwhile Christmas gift for Rebecca. She'd decorate it with crewel embroidery, one of the few hobbies she'd always enjoyed and something she did rather well.

  Bright sunlight flooded the room, but the air remained cool. She pulled the woolen shawl closer around her shoulders and tied it
in front. Warmer now, she began cutting the linen when a knock on the door stopped her. Setting the linen and scissors aside, she rose to answer the door. Who could it be this time? Her heart beat fast. It might be...

  "Christian!" The brilliant sunlight blasted in her eyes as she opened the door wide, a cold wind whipping her dress around her legs. Christian stepped into the hallway in his self-assured manner, his lips curved into a smile. Is he happy to see me? she wondered, or did he just win the lottery? The scent of tobacco and the cold outdoors clung to him, as much a part of him as his dark eyes or his deep, sexy voice.

  "Sit anywhere you like. How about a cup of tea or a glass of brandy?"

  "Nothing, thank you." In his tan linsey hunting shirt, he sat down on the settle and stretched his long legs out, giving her a quick smile from across the room.

  She headed for the Windsor chair, deciding to keep her distance from him, for her own peace of mind.

  The aroma of baking bread drifted from the kitchen, and flames crackled in the hearth, imbuing the common room with a cozy warmth. Lumi lay stretched out by the hearth, an occasional twitch telling her he was dreaming. The children's laughter reached them from the backyard swings, all these familiar attributes she'd come to accept without thinking.

  Everything was so pleasant and homey. A wish flashed through her mind, that this was her home and Christian her husband, the children theirs. Looking over at Christian, she caught his gaze on her. She'd give anything to know what went through his mind. Was he thinking the same as she? Now, she must be dreaming.

  Rebecca left the kitchen to join them a few minutes later. "Sorry Daniel isn't here," she said, wiping damp hands on her woolen apron. "He departed for Fort Pitt but a short while ago." "Strange." Christian's glance swung from Gwen to Rebecca. "That is my destination also. As a matter of fact, I stopped by to see if you needed anything from the trading post. However, 'tis always pleasant to visit my neighbors." His gaze settled on Gwen. "No school today?

  She met his gaze with her own and dared to imagine he was recalling their last trip to Fort Pitt and their kisses, their caresses....

  She jerked her mind back to his question. "Saturday. I let the children have two days off. They work hard enough the rest of the week."

  "Oh, aye. One day seems much the same as another, except Sunday, of course." He paused, tapping his fingers on the arm of the settle. "My patient from Bedford paid me quite generously--ten pounds, as a matter of fact--so I intend to order more medical supplies, gauze and such. But I've been wondering... Surely there must be other things I could do with the money, for the people around here, that is." Christian tossed both women a hopeful glance. "Have you ladies any suggestions?"

  "A hospital," Gwen said on the spur of the moment.

  "A hospital?" Rebecca and Christian echoed.

  Gwen spread her arms wide. "You know what I mean--a central place where you can keep your medical supplies, where people can come to you for help, where women can give birth--"

  "Give birth in a hospital?" Christian asked with a disapproving frown. "I've heard about a hospital like that in Paris where women give birth. They must share a bed with other patients, four or five people to a bed, each suffering from a different malady." He shook his head. "And don't forget, Gwen, this isn't Philadelphia. I can't quite envision a hospital in the wilderness."

  "Well, I think it's a good idea," Gwen said. "You could train young men and women to apply bandages and help look after those who are sick, maybe pay them a certain amount for their services. And then, if someone has an illness, like pneumonia, he could rest and receive treatment in the hospital." She threw them both a satisfied smile.

  "How would a person get to the hospital," Rebecca asked, "if he's sick? 'Tis difficult to ride a horse when you have a fever."

  Gwen folded her arms across her chest. "How much rest and care does a person get at home, when there may be several children and a crying baby besides?"

  Christian nodded. "Aye, you may have a point there. 'Tis something to consider. And I shall think on it." He rose and made a slight bow to both of them, but his look switched to Gwen, his gaze warm and steady. "'Twas a pleasant visit with two charming ladies. But now, best I go on to Fort Pitt." He walked out of the room in his confident stride, leaving a lot of ideas for her to ponder in his wake.

  Rebecca returned to the kitchen, and Gwen resumed her sewing, with Christian dominating her mind. She thought again of his kisses, the touch of his skin, his hard, taut body. Letting her hands fall into her lap, she remembered the last time he held her close and what might have happened if she hadn't stopped him. And why had she stopped him, darn it! If she had him with her now, the two of them alone... Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander.

  She shook her head. Thinking about him wouldn't get her anywhere. Better to focus her mind in a more profitable direction, the hospital, for instance, with Christian in charge and she at his side. If she couldn't return to the twenty-first century, she'd do everything possible to help Christian here, to enrich his life...their lives.

  If only she'd get the chance. If only Christian would marry her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "What about Thanksgiving?" Gwen asked Rebecca one frosty morning after breakfast. A brisk wind rattled the windows, and a bone-chilling cold hung over the common room, telltale reminders of the coming winter. A fire blazed in the fireplace, but unless she sat next to it, she froze like an iceberg. With a torn dress of Bryony's and a threaded needle in her lap, she eased her chair closer to the hearth. "The holiday is coming up soon."

  "Thanksgiving?" Rebecca paused in her mending, a thoughtful frown on her face. "The Puritans celebrated it for the first time, I believe, but we normally don't. What about you? Did you celebrate Thanksgiving where you come from?"

  "Well, sure, in late November. We made a lot--much of it, with a big turkey dinner and pumpkin pie, lots of other goodies--uh, good things to eat."

  Another puzzled look from Rebecca reminded her--again!--to watch her language and talk more like a Georgian lady.

  "That sounds agreeable," Rebecca said. "I'll mention the turkey to Daniel, see if he can fetch a big one. Mayhap invite Edward and Leah, and Christian, of course."

  Thanksgiving--one little touch of my twenty-first century life, Gwen thought as she finished her mending. And another chance to see Christian.

  Days later, Gwen inhaled the delicious aromas that wafted from platters of turkey and venison, dishes of potato pudding, corn, and green beans that graced the long lace-topped table in the Chamberlains' common room. Thanksgiving, 1762. Christian sat next to her at the table, a fact she tried to accept with studied casualness, even though his proximity made her heart beat a little faster.

  And Christian? What was going through his mind? Did his pulse race too, just sitting next to her? Did his mind stray to images of kisses and warm embraces, like those they'd shared on their last trip to Fort Pitt?

  "Best dinner I've had in a long time." Christian set his fork on his plate, his gaze covering everyone.

  "I believe we should credit Molly for much of the cooking." Rebecca directed a smile at Gwen. "And certainly we should thank Gwen for the suggestion of a Thanksgiving dinner." She returned to the task of cutting up pieces of turkey for Robert, who sat in his high chair, happily banging his spoon on the tray. Bryony sat on Rebecca's other side, very much the sedate little lady, as if trying to put her younger brother to shame.

  Edward glanced at Gwen. "So this was your idea, and a splendid one, to be sure. I understand you're teaching some of the young people in these parts. How go your classes, Gwen?"

  She tucked a stray lock of hair under her mobcap. "Coming along fine. I really enjoy teaching those kids--uh, children. They can all read short sentences and do simple mathematics. Maybe after awhile, I'll teach the older ones rudimentary algebra."

  "Only the boys, of course." Edward looked to her for confirmation.

  "What do you mean, 'only the boys'?” She blew out an exaspe
rated breath. “Why shouldn't the girls learn algebra, too?"

  "'Tis fine for boys to learn that branch of mathematics--although I know not how such a subject will benefit them in this wilderness--but I fear 'tis too difficult for young girls. The study may prove harmful to the delicate female brain."

  "Delicate female brain! Well, well, Mr. Horton, where'd you get that idea? It sure didn't hurt me to learn algebra." Was the whole world crazy, or was she the only one? She cut off a bite of turkey and chewed, hoping to conceal her frustration with the mindset of the times.

  Christian cleared his throat. "Another good idea Gwen had concerns a hospital for this area," he said, conveniently forgetting his earlier opposition to her idea.

  "A hospital sounds good," Leah said, expressing an opinion for the first time. "Christian, didn't you once tell me you practiced medicine at a hospital in Philadelphia?"

  Amid discussions of hospitals and illnesses in the wilderness, the meal ended with spicy pumpkin pie and bohea tea. With contented smiles and occasional comments, everyone pushed their chairs back from the table, some gathering by the hearth. If only we had central heating, Gwen mused, drawing her shawl closer about her shoulders.

  In her quiet way, Molly came to collect the plates and cutlery and took them out to the kitchen. Gwen helped her clear the table, a welcome chance to cool down after Edward's narrow-minded remarks. She piled several plates on top of each other, topping the load with a serving platter.

  On her return from the kitchen, Christian stood in the hallway outside Daniel's study, his look intense. She halted in her steps, then continued on in her normal stride, her face set in studied nonchalance.

  He blocked her way. "A few minutes of your time, please." With a slight bow, he opened the door for her. "Pray come inside with me. I want to talk to you."

  Although aching to be alone with him, she wouldn't make her feelings obvious. "Oh, I don't know," she said with a cautious glance toward the common room. "They'll--"