A Tumble Through Time

by Hutton, Callie

  Wes reached for her hand once again, tugging her forward. She sat in the chair and covered their linked hands with her other one. “Is this what you want?”

  “We have no choice.”

  So she was to marry a man who was doing his duty. Who felt he had no choice. She snorted. “There’s always a choice.”

  “Would it be so awful?”

  Anna considered the question as she studied him. Marriage to Wes. Her life had been so out of kilter lately, even this didn’t seem that strange. Heat rose from her center in a slow climb to her face, leaving shivers behind. She would get to join him in bed. From what she’d seen, he certainly had all the right equipment to make it enjoyable. Would he mind that she wasn’t a virgin? Not that she had a great deal of experience, but there was the matter of that little piece of membrane missing from her vagina.

  Almost as a secondary thought, she contemplated her previous life. If she fell in love with Wes—and she was halfway there already—would she still want to go back? Could she accept a life with no hot showers, tampons, or Godiva chocolate?

  “What do you say? I really need to get more rest.” Wes ran his tongue over his dry lips, his eyelids heavy with sleep.

  “How can I possibly turn down such a romantic proposal?” Anna turned to the preacher. “Fine, Padre, set up the wedding ceremony. But not until our friend here is back on his feet.”

  Wes drew her from her musings when he cupped her face with his large hands and lowered his head.

  Since the preacher insisted she move into the pastoral home with him and his wife until Wes was back on his feet, they’d spent the past week apart. Her senses went into overload as his lips covered hers, sipping, nibbling, and altogether too delicious with an audience.

  At the preacher’s slight cough, Wes released her, but the fire in his eyes set her heart to galloping and her toes to curling. If the slight flush on his face gave any indication, he’d been affected by their kiss as well.

  They turned and faced the group gathered in the church. The preacher’s wife, Alice, had done her best to quell any gossip, although the story of Anna being with an undressed marshal did make the rounds. The sweet woman dragged Anna from one church activity to another, her staunch supporter daring anyone to spurn the miscreant she and the preacher harbored.

  Anna had actually enjoyed herself, meeting other women of the town. It amazed her to discover most of the ones her age had already been married for several years and many had a string of children. An awkward moment arrived when she and Laura Martin came face to face. After some stiffness, Laura wished her well, and a collective sigh of relief sounded, the ladies apparently concerned about witnessing Anna’s reputation for scrapping.

  Wes clutched her hand and they started down the aisle, headed to the church hall where Alice had arranged a small party. Anna took a peek at her new husband. He’d lost weight, but still had the brawn she’d already witnessed, and was anxious to run her hands over. Misbehaving curls, still damp from his bath, covered his forehead, tempting her to comb eager fingers through the silkiness. His black pants and the white shirt stretched over his broad chest had been freshly washed and ironed. Seemingly aware of her scrutiny, he flashed a grin, and her heart performed a triple time cadence. Hopefully the party wouldn’t last long.

  Despite her fall from grace, the town ladies had rallied, and a mouthwatering array of dishes lined one long table, with a huge white cake in the center. With her mouth dried up from wedding night eagerness, Anna headed straight to the punch bowl.

  “Thirsty?” Wes chuckled as Anna gulped her second glass of the cool liquid.

  She placed the glass on the table and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Yes. Didn’t you find it warm in the church?”

  Wes shrugged. “Not particularly.” He tugged her hand and bent closer to her ear. “Anna, we need to talk.”

  “What about?”

  He clasped her other hand and turned her to face him. “Us. This marriage. We haven’t spoken two words to each other since Pastor Dave dragged you out of my house.”

  The warmth of his hands was driving her crazy. But the urgency in his eyes pulled her away from the direction her thoughts were headed. “Since the deed’s been done, there isn’t a whole lot to talk about.”

  “Marshal, come get something to eat. You can stare at the new missus when you git home.” Pete Martin slammed his palm against Wes’ shoulder, almost sending him tumbling into the punch bowl.

  “We’ll speak later.” Wes mouthed at Anna, then smiled in Pete’s direction. “Sure looks good.”

  “And my Laura’s fried chicken is the best in Kansas.” He cast an accusatory glance at Wes.

  “So I’ve heard,” he mumbled.

  Anna watched Wes being led to the food table, Pete’s arm slung around his shoulder. Wes turned back. “You coming, honey?”

  Now, why did she get all doe-eyed at that endearment? Lots of men called their wives ‘honey.’

  Wife. That will definitely take some getting used to.

  She’d intended to be a wife, but not for another hundred and twenty years, and not to an old town marshal. Life had a way of smirking at you while it shoved you from one direction to another, without a breather in between.

  Wes had no idea where that honey had come from. It seemed as natural to say as it did to breathe. But it was not a good idea. He’d had plenty of time to think while he lay in bed the past week. This had to be a temporary marriage, with no entanglements. Anna had a life to return to, and he needed peace and quiet, something his new wife would never give him. He’d been on tenterhooks the entire time they’d been apart, waiting for the next calamity.

  Word had come from the Western Union man that a deputy had arrived from Abilene to cover the jail in his absence. But that still didn’t comfort him, knowing Anna was loose on the town, doing God knew what to stir up trouble. Every time his deputy visited, he’d expected to hear she’d been tossed into jail, or had tussled with another cowboy. Even now, his muscles clenched at the memory of Big Ben’s knife pressed against her throat.

  The faster she returned to where she’d come from, the better for his peace of mind. He couldn’t allow himself to fall in love with her. Although based on his reaction when he’d first seen her this morning, it seemed like it was already too late.

  Wes filled his plate from the selections, his belly a hollow space since he’d started to feel better. No amount of food seemed to fill him up. Anna joined him, one hand balancing a plate, the other motioning across the room. “There’re two seats against the wall.”

  “Marshal, you and your bride come up here to the front table.” Alice Preston called to them as they were about to sit. “This is a special day. We won’t have you hiding in corners.”

  He followed Anna, his eyes riveted on her swaying bottom. The simple white dress she wore, with a ring of some type of blue and white flowers in her hair, gave her a demure look that contrasted quite a bit with the getup she’d arrived in. A stirring below his belt reminded him of the yellow scrap of material that had barely covered her breasts. And her long legs in the tight fitting men’s trousers. Legs and breasts I’ve got every right to uncover and run my hands over. He hurried the last few steps to the table before anyone noticed his reaction to those thoughts.

  “Are you feeling better?” Anna touched his hand as she studied him.

  “Yes. But I’m embarrassed to say I still need to find my bed early in the evening.” Once again his body tightened when his thoughts wandered to his bed and how he wanted Anna in it. He longed to enjoy his rights as a husband. Rights he would not exert, no matter how painful it left him.

  “Then we’ll have to make sure you get enough rest tonight, won’t we?” She cast a siren’s smile and every drop of blood in his body headed to his groin.

  Despite the virginal dress she wore, she might have been wearing nothing at all for the way he’d reacted. Her breasts pressed up against the soft fabric of her dress, hugging the tempting globes.
He groaned softly as he imagined unbuttoning the long line of pearls down the front and moving the material aside to reveal her satiny skin. His lips ached to cover her nipples, sucking and nibbling until she whispered his name on a sigh. Then he’d slowly slide the dress down, uncovering one silky inch of skin at a time, over her curves, dragging her drawers with it, revealing her nakedness to him. His heart pounded as he envisioned entering her wetness, plunging . . .

  “Mrs. Shannon, it’s time for you and the marshal to cut the wedding cake.” Arnold’s wife, Myrtle, recently recovered from her bout with influenza, held out a knife to Anna and interrupted his lustful thoughts.

  “Certainly.”

  Dammit, I can’t get up in front of this crowd now. Everyone will know where my thoughts have been.

  Sweat beaded his forehead as he pulled the cake closer to Anna so it wouldn’t be necessary for them to stand. She placed his hand on the knife and covered it with her own, and they cut. Anna took over from there, serving up large pieces of cake that several women passed around to the guests.

  Still attempting to get his body under control, Wes took deep breaths and ran multiplication tables through his head. He pushed the cake aside, hungry for sweetness, but not that kind.

  An hour later, he and Anna thanked the last of their guests as a few women gathered the last of the dishes to wash, and men took down the tables and chairs.

  “I’ll just help a bit in the kitchen.” Anna spoke over her shoulder, leaving him standing in the middle of the room, not sure what to do with himself.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Alice came bustling through the door. “You two go on home, and start your honeymoon.” She winked at Anna, and Wes swallowed several times, trying to work moisture back into his mouth.

  The late afternoon sun, lower in the sky, shadowed parts of the town as they pulled away from the church. “Is something wrong?” Anna studied Wes as he steered the borrowed wagon toward the center of town.

  “No. Why?”

  “Well, you’ve been awfully quiet all afternoon. Almost as if you’re sorry we had to do this.”

  “No. Not sorry.”

  She kept her eyes glued to his hands as he worked the harness straps. “Are you still feeling sick?”

  “No. Not sick.”

  She threw her hands up. “Wes, talk to me. What’s the matter?”

  “We’ll talk when we get home.”

  His muscles tensed as they neared his house. Although in truth he wasn’t actually sorry they were forced to marry, he had no idea how she would take his insistence on this being temporary. He had to do this; keep her at arm’s length. It would be too easy for her to wriggle her way into his heart, and then he’d be devastated when she left. “I’ll just return the wagon to the livery, and stop in real quick at the jailhouse.”

  Anna studied him with curious eyes. “All right. I’ll use the time to get ready.”

  His heart slammed against his chest, galloped into his throat. Visions of her peeling her dress off—much as he’d done in his mind already—then sliding a silky nightgown along her creamy skin, almost brought him to his knees.

  “Wait.” He jumped from the wagon, landing on shaky legs. He strode to her side and wrapped his hands around her waist, lowering her quickly to the ground, then marched her to the front door like a prisoner. Determination driving him forward, Wes scooped her up, carried her across the threshold, and deposited her on the other side of the doorway.

  She stared at him, her eyes wide. “What was that all about?”

  He inhaled deeply to calm his racing heart and took both her hands in his. How he wanted to fold her against his chest and stoke her hair, kiss her forehead, her face, and then take possession of her mouth in a searing kiss. She gazed up at him and he saw the pulse point beating a rapid tattoo in her neck where he wanted to place his lips, inhale her sweet scent. Desire was written plainly on her face, and he could feel his hardness pressing up against his pants.

  If he didn’t speak now, he’d strip her right here and take her on the floor. He pulled back, strengthening his resolve. “I think we need some time to get to know each other. This all happened too fast.”

  She tilted her head, her eyebrows drawn together. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”

  “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “Take advantage of me?”

  He paced in a circle, studying the floor as he moved. “We shouldn’t get too . . .”

  “Too what?” She dipped her head to peer into his eyes.

  He met her gaze. “Too involved. Only a week ago you told me you were from the future.”

  “That’s right. I am. You seemed to accept it.”

  “I did. Rather, I do−I think.”

  Anna stepped closer, and took his hand. “Is that what this is all about? Do you still think I’m crazy?”

  No, I’m crazy for letting things go this far. I can’t be a decent husband to you, or anyone. And even if I could, you will disappear on me one day.

  “No crazier than you were before you told me.” He gave her a half-hearted grin.

  “Then I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If you are from the future, you have another life, in another place. What about that?”

  She shrugged. “I doubt I’ll ever get back to that place.”

  “And that’s all? You’ll just stay right here, and not try to find a way to return?”

  Anna threw her hands up. “I have tried. I can’t find the ‘peace chair’ that brought me here.”

  Wes shook his head. “I still think we should take our time.”

  Arms folded across her chest, she tapped her foot and glared at him. “And what exactly does that mean?”

  He hesitated for a moment. “You can have the bed, and I’ll sleep on the sofa,” he finally mumbled.

  Chapter Twelve

  “What?” Anna stepped back, her eyes wide. “Why would we do that?”

  Wes ran his fingers through his hair, then rested his hands on his hips. “It’s better that way.”

  “Better?” After all she’d been through the last few weeks, she’d thought there was very little left to surprise her. Wrong. His words had just taken her breath away. How could he calmly stand there and declare they sleep separately? Especially with desire so evident on his face, in his eyes, his body language. Hell, she could practically smell his arousal through his clothes. She glanced down. And see it beneath his pants.

  “I don’t understand. We’re married. I’m not your typical 1800s-era woman. I know for a fact you want me.” She moved closer, touching him lightly on his arm. “And I want you, too.”

  He uttered a curse and wrapping his hand around her neck, tugged her toward him, claiming her lips. She melted against his hard chest, shocked at her immediate response. Sparks shot to her fingers and toes, leaving in its wake pulsing heat throughout her body. Wes slid his warm tongue against her lips and she eagerly opened her mouth. Her senses reeled, every inch of her aware of his musky smell, possessive touch, and the dance of their tongues, as he plundered, took control as if he’d never let her go.

  Anna whimpered, and he abruptly released her, backing away, his chest heaving. He stood for a moment, watching her. Her tongue savored the taste of him on her lips. When he didn’t move toward her, she ran her palms up and down her arms, trying to re-capture the heat so brutally wrenched from her.

  Wes’s body tensed, his hands fisted at his side, as if trying to keep himself from reaching for her. He opened and closed his mouth once, twice, then finally said, “I’ll see you later.”

  Grabbing the doorknob, he wrenched the door open, slamming it, leaving her swimming in frustrated desire. What the hell just happened?

  Wes stormed down the steps, his body throbbing with unrelieved lust. What had he been thinking? If he intended to keep this marriage unconsummated, there would be no touching, and certainly no kissing. When Anna o
pened her plump red lips and whispered she wanted him, all his restraint dissolved like sugar in his coffee. And sugar was exactly how Anna tasted. Sweet, soft, and oh, so warm.

  He leapt into the wagon and set off toward the livery. His new wife must think him a complete dolt. Or worse. He hoped to God he didn’t leave her thinking he didn’t desire her. Nothing could be further from the truth. His body had reacted to her the moment he’d glanced into the stagecoach and his eyes landed on her lush figure, wrapped in a yellow bandana and tight men’s trousers.

  Wes sucked in air through his teeth. He had to get his mind off her, or he wouldn’t even be able to spend the night under the same roof. The cot at the jail was looking more and more tempting.

  “Congratulations, marshal, I understand you’ve taken a wife. That new gal?” Dennis Meade, the livery owner, snagged the leather straps Wes tossed at him and grinned a toothless smile.

  “That’s right.” Wes hadn’t meant for it come out a growl, but he was still wrestling with the whirlwind of sensations he’d left the house with. “Got married this morning.”

  “Well, we better get you on your way, so you don’t neglect the little lady.” Dennis winked and guffawed.

  “Yeah. Gotta go.” Wes forced a smile. “What do I owe you for the wagon?”

  “Nothing.” Meade scratched his flannel-clad chest with dirty fingernails. “Not every day a man gets hitched now, is it?”

  “No. Guess not.” Wes tugged at the brim of his hat. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  During the short walk from the livery to the jailhouse, he encountered several people who stopped him to offer best wishes. His illness had kept him from the townsfolk for over a week and he couldn’t help but wonder how many of them had already heard the story about Anna being in his bedroom, and the reverend insisting on marriage. Hopefully he wouldn’t give the impression he’d been forced. Anna deserved better than to be held up to ridicule.

  Hell, she deserved better than him. If she hadn’t hated him already after he’d told her about the rape and murder of the young girl and his part in covering it up, by now she probably realized she’d married a coward. A man afraid to make love to his desirable wife.