During the many months that they had been separated, Larissa seemed to have lost some of her fine polish, her “prissiness,” as his mother used to call it. He’d always objected to that characterization, even though he knew it was accurate. Larissa, like all the young blue-blooded ladies of her class, had been expected to be a bit vain, flighty, and self-centered. They were pampered from birth, so they expected to be for life.
But that capricious part of her was gone now. Vanished! In its place, he sensed a more genuine tenderness of heart, a deep compassion that Larissa had been lacking before. He had no idea what had wrought this change in his wife.
Suddenly, he scowled when he thought again of Larissa with Jordan. Could it be that his twin brother had taught his wife the true meaning of love?
“No,” he murmured. “I won’t allow myself to believe such a thing.”
Then another troubling thought struck him.
“Or is it not compassion at all, but pity?” he wondered aloud. He would know the minute he saw her face. “Please, God, don’t let it be pity!”
Hearing the front door squeak on its hinges, Hunter sat up straighter in the bed, his heart pounding so hard that it made his chest ache. Larissa would come into his room any moment now. He almost dreaded seeing her for the first time. Could she possibly be as beautiful as he remembered?
He reached over and patted his sleeping hound, feeling a nervous need for companionship. “You and me, old boy,” he said, “we’re a team for life no matter what. Tell me, Troop, will she look the same? You’ve seen her. I haven’t.”
The hound opened one eye and thumped his skinny tail against the bedspread. Then he gave a sigh and drifted off to sleep again.
Hunter continued thinking, talking to himself, but addressing the dog. “Of course, it could be a trick. Mary Renfro’s a sweet woman, but she’s not above trying to pull the wool over a fellow’s eyes in order to make him want to live. It does seem mighty odd that my wife didn’t show up here till I’d lost my sight. Then, too, Mary had me all doped up with that foul-tasting medicine.”
Hunter didn’t believe a word he was saying, however. He knew! He knew for certain that Larissa had returned to him, for whatever reason.
A moment later, the bedroom door eased open. Hunter held his breath. He wanted to see and he didn’t. He wasn’t sure he could bear to look into her eyes. What would he read there? She had never been able to hide any secrets from him. Not even the one that had changed both their lives.
He closed his eyes, not ready to look at her just yet.
“Hunter?” she called to him quietly.
With what seemed a great effort, he raised his head and looked directly at her.
For a moment, he couldn’t find his voice, too many battling emotions were raging through him—his love for the beautiful young bride he had left, his fear for her, his anger and hurt when he found out she’d gone to his brother.
Finally, in a hoarse whisper, he said, “Larissa. This war has aged you, aged us both.”
Cluney caught her breath. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but certainly not this. Was Hunter Breckinidge seeing his wife in her only because he wanted to? Or was he merely pretending, playing some sort of twisted joke on her for deceiving him?
She glanced toward Mary and Free, who were standing behind her in the doorway. They were both staring at her as if they’d never seen her before in their lives. Mary’s eyes held only accusation, while Free looked pleased and surprised.
“Mary …” Cluney began, seeking an explanation rather than hoping to offer any.
Mrs. Renfro quickly cut her off. “You’ll be wanting some time alone with your husband. So, we’ll leave you now.”
Without another word, the woman shut the door, leaving Cluney to face this man who claimed to be her husband. She stood in awkward silence a few feet from the bed.
“Larissa, I didn’t mean that as an insult—about your aging. It’s just that you were a girl when I left you. Looking at you now, no man could take you for less than a woman. You’ve filled out fine and handsome, my darling.”
Cluney had never known such a mingling of embarrassment and bewilderment. Now that Hunter could see, he was giving her the once over, head to toe. She noted with a deep blush that his gaze lingered at the bodice of poor Lorettie’s too-tight dress, where the faded fabric strained over her full, bra-less breasts.
“Come here to me, Larissa.” He stretched his good arm toward her and beckoned. “Let me have a closer look.”
“Why are you doing this?” Cluney’s voice was shaking so she could hardly get the words out. She stood her ground, waiting for an answer.
“Doing what? I only want my wife here beside me.”
“Your wife!” Cluney echoed in a flat tone.
He nodded. “Yes, you, Larissa. Is there something wrong with that?”
Cluney spread her arms, palms up in an imploring gesture. “Look at me, won’t you, Major Breckinridge? I’m not your wife!”
He frowned. “Major Breckinridge? What kind of games are you playing, Larissa? Of course, you’re my wife! Or do you figure now that you’ve been with another, that makes you his instead of mine?”
Tears brimmed in Cluney’s eyes. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here. I have no idea how you even know these things about me, but that’s over now.”
Her head was spinning. She fell silent when a thought struck her: No, it isn’t over with Jeff; it won’t even begin for over a century. Then as if to remind herself of what was real, Cluney whispered, “He’s gone. He died in a plane crash.”
The moment the words were out of her mouth, Cluney realized the mistake she’d made, but it was too late. Hunter leaned closer, his face dark with something that verged on anger.
“Make sense, woman! What do you mean ‘plane crash’? And if you insist upon claiming you’re not my wife, then tell me who in hell you think you are.”
Who, indeed, was she? Cluney wondered.
This was not going to be easy and Cluney knew it. She sighed and sank down into the chair beside the bed, trying to think how to begin.
Looking at him, staring directly into his dark eyes, she only hoped that he would believe her. But how could she blame him if he didn’t? She hardly knew what to believe any longer.
“Please don’t think I’m crazy when you hear what I have to say. I’ll tell you everything, but it may take some time.” She glanced about and shrugged. “How to begin? I’m not from this place.” Already she realized she had screwed it up. Backtracking, she corrected that statement. “Well, yes, I am from this place, but I’m not from this time. I’m from over on Baldy Rock Mountain, and I teach history at a college that will be built in the valley shortly after the war is over.”
He interrupted, as she guessed he would. “There’s nothing down in that valley but a few coal miners’ shacks.”
Cluney nodded. “Not now, but there will be a college and a town there in a few years. A place for the miners’ children to be educated. Please, won’t you just listen? This is very difficult to explain. Maybe it will make some sense when you’ve heard all I have to say.”
She glanced at him. He nodded, but looked thoroughly confused and chagrined.
Trying to figure out how to continue, Cluney gazed up toward the ceiling as if she might find some clue there. When she looked back down, her eyes lit on his diary.
“That journal over there, I’ve read it, so I know a lot about you.”
“You read my diary while I was sleeping? That’s my private property and you know it. That’s the only thing I ever asked you not to do, Larissa.”
Cluney tried to remain at least outwardly calm in the face of his justified anger. “You don’t have to worry. As far as I know Larissa has never read your diary. But I have. My name is Claire de Lune Summerland, by the way. My friends call me Cluney.”
“Your husband calls you Larissa!”
Ignoring that, Cluney
continued. “You know the college in the valley I mentioned? Well, I found your diary there, in the basement of the library. It had been stored away for years. I know things about your early life at Bluefield because you recorded them in your daily entries. I know, for instance, that your dog, Trooper, was the only one in that litter to survive, and that your father wanted to destroy him because he was sick, too. But you nursed the pup back to health. I know that you were in love with Larissa for a long, long time, and that she was several years younger than you are. I know that you asked her to marry you in her’ parents’ garden in Lexington … that you got down on one knee … that there was a full moon overhead. I know about your wedding. I even know the intimate details of your wedding night.” Cluney rubbed her cheeks with her hands to cover a sudden blush.
“My wedding night? Somehow I’ve always thought of it as our wedding night. But I guess your lover changed all that for you.”
“Will you please shut up about him!” Cluney shouted. Then she looked down, embarrassed, and murmured, “I’m sorry. But it’s just that I loved him so much and you make it sound like it was something dirty, something I should be ashamed of.”
Hunter’s face went ashen. His words came out sounding cold. “If you loved him so damn much, why didn’t you stay with him? Or have you only come back to me because Jordan’s gone and you have no one else to turn to?”
“Jordan?” Cluney cried. “You think I loved your brother?”
When Hunter stared at her, confused, Cluney explained, “I know about him from your diary. But I’ve certainly never been in love with him. To tell you the truth, Hunter, I could never understand why the two of you remained close. He was always such a schemer.”
“What game is this, Larissa? You said you loved—”
“The man I loved was named Jeff Layton.”
Hunter growled, “No matter his name, you loved him all the same.”
Cluney had had about enough of his temper. Sick or dying or whatever, he didn’t have to act like such a bastard.
“Damn your hide, Hunter Breckinridge, turn over and listen to me! I will not be ignored! You asked me to tell you about myself and that’s what I’m trying to do.”
Slowly, inch by inch, he turned back toward her. But the meanness was still in his eyes. “Who’s this Jeff Layton?”
“He was the man that I, Cluney Summerland, loved and planned to marry. As I said, he was killed a short time ago, on March 1, 1992.”
For the first time, Hunter Breckinridge was at a loss for words. He stared hard at Cluney, his eyes narrowing, then going wide. “The hell you say! 1992?”
She nodded slowly. “I know you find that impossible to believe, but it’s true. Night before last, which was May 18, 1992, I came up to Cumberland Falls with a girlfriend to watch the moonbow. I saw it, then something happened—something I can’t explain. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up the next morning and it was 1863. Or, come to think of it, maybe I’m still asleep and dreaming all this.”
“Take my word for it, you’re not dreaming,” Hunter said sternly. “And regardless of when or where you came from, you are Larissa Courtney Breckinridge!”
“How can you be so sure?”
“For one thing, you know about old Trooper. That’s not in my diary. But you would know about it anyway, Larissa. You were there the day the pups were born in the stable. You helped me save Trooper’s life. Why, if you hadn’t cried and begged so, Father would have done away with him.”
Cluney knew her mouth was hanging open, but she was too numb to close it.
“Then there’s the necklace,” Hunter continued. “I gave you that moonstone you’re wearing around your neck. I gave it to you on your thirteenth birthday as a promise that I meant to marry you someday.”
Cluney’s hand went to the slender chain around her neck. She rubbed the smooth stone with one fingertip. “You gave me this?”
Suddenly, Cluney believed what he said. She knew she was Larissa and that Hunter Breckinridge was her husband. Tears flooded her eyes, then streamed down her cheeks. Miss Redbird had told her that she was wearing the moonstone when she turned up at the Summerland cabin, that she had brought it with her.
Covering her mouth with her hand to keep from sobbing aloud, Cluney could only shake her head.
“It’s true,” Hunter said softly. “You are my wife! I don’t know where you’ve been or what happened to you while you were away. I don’t even care. All I know is that I love you, Larissa. I may not have much time left, but I want to spend all of it with you.”
“Oh, don’t!” Cluney sobbed. “Please, don’t say that!”
“We can’t pretend things are the same as they were before the war. But I promise I won’t speak of that again. Come here.”
Cluney hesitated, fighting back her tears. “Hunter, there’s something you have to know. I don’t remember. I know the things I read in your diary, and somehow I remembered about Trooper. But I can’t remember ever being your wife. The only things I recall happened off in distant time, over a century from now. From your diary, I know far more about Hunter Breckinridge than I do about his wife, it seems. Larissa is a total stranger to me.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he whispered. “Come. I’ll help you remember, darling.”
She approached him shyly. Nothing in life had prepared her for this moment. She stood uncertainly beside the bed, wondering what he expected of her.
Hunter gazed up at her. “Come here, darling,” he repeated. “Come to me.”
She eased down to sit on the edge of the bed, her fingers toying nervously at the frayed folds of the blue-and-white summer-winter coverlet. All the while, he kept murmuring Larissa’s name, making Cluney tremble at the tender, passionate sound of his voice. Finally, he coaxed her to lift her gaze to his.
His dark eyes fairly glowed with the light of love, the light of recognition. No stranger could look at her that way. In an instant, she knew for certain that they had loved before. Somewhere far back in the mists of time.
“Hunter,” she whispered, not sure what she would say next, not knowing if she could say anything as tears were so close again.
He sensed her turmoil of emotions. “You don’t have to say a word, darling. Just let me look at you. Let me touch you, Larissa. I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms for so long.”
He brushed a tear from her cheek with his fingertips. Their eyes met and held. In that electric moment, she saw a blinding flash of light and felt a tremor shake her soul. It was the same sort of sensation she had experienced when the moonbow appeared.
“My beautiful, wonderful wife,” he whispered, letting his fingers trail down her cheeks to caress her quivering lips. “How I do love you.”
He slid his hand around her slender waist. He drew her nearer. They were close now, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face. Then he leaned toward her, pressing his lips to hers. His hand cupped her breast.
Fireworks seemed to go off inside Cluney’s head, sending shock waves all through her body. What was this stranger doing to her? But suddenly he was a stranger no longer. His every move, his every touch, his every word stirred warm memories that had been hidden away in the deepest part of her heart. Yet the feelings confused her. Was she remembering Larissa’s husband, Hunter, or was it Jeff’s touch she recalled with such emotion?
Hunter obviously wanted to make love, but Cluney was afraid. She didn’t remember him as a wife should remember her husband. But she had to admit to herself that wasn’t really the problem. She wanted to know him—to have him touch her, caress her, and take her to that blissful place that lay somewhere over the moonbow.
But Hunter was wounded, ill, and weak. She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him or making him worse. As much as they wanted each other at this very moment, she wanted more for him to live and be with her always.
Reluctantly, she eased away from him. “You’ll have to give me a little mor
e time, Hunter. I have to get used to … things.”
“Please, Larissa, I’ve waited so long already.” He reached out and caressed her breast once more. “Just let me hold you.”
Sitting beside him on the bed, Cluney closed her eyes and let her head fall back. He was teasing her nipple through the threadbare fabric of Lorettie’s shabby gown. It felt wonderful When she sighed, his touch became bolder.
“You’ll rip the dress,” she gasped.
“Then take it off,” he begged.
Cluney glanced toward the door.
“They won’t come in,” he assured her. “They’ll know we need privacy right now. Besides, darling, you want to remember, don’t you? A woman’s mind may forget, but never her body. Her body remembers everything—always and forever.”
Without giving her time to answer, Hunter began fumbling at the tiny bone buttons of her bodice with his one good hand. “Damn!” he cursed. “I can’t manage these stubborn things.”
Cluney gripped his fingers and kissed them. “Let me,” she whispered.
His gaze never wavered as she slowly undid the little buttons. She wore nothing underneath, so inch by inch her bare flesh offered itself to his hungry gaze. When she finished her task, Hunter smiled and sighed.
“That’s better, darling. Ah, so much better!”
Cluney was still sitting beside him, facing him. He reached out to her and slipped his hand inside her open bodice. She stiffened when his cool fingertips brushed her nipple. He played with her ever so gently for a time. When he felt her relax, he cupped her breast with his hand—fondling her, stroking her, making her ache with longing.
Soon only warmth flowed between them. Ever so carefully, Hunter eased the gown off her shoulders. A shaft of sunlight came through a rip in the curtain at the window to fall across her bare breasts.
“See how you glow,” Hunter whispered. “All soft and golden.”
Larissa wanted to hear these words and to feel her husband’s touch. But the part of her that was still Cluney Summerland felt painfully shy with him suddenly. She moved to cover her sun-brushed breasts with her arms, but Hunter caught her wrists, forcing them down.
Once Upon Forever Page 15