Distant Dreams

by Jenny Lykins

  Tilburn slid his gaze west, then brought it back to study Alec’s face.

  “It is quite late for strollin’ on the beach. May I ask what you and the lady are doin’ down here?”

  Alec’s body tightened under Shaelyn’s fingers.

  “No, you may not.”

  Shaelyn cuddled up to Alec like a besotted lover. Not much of a stretch, she thought when their bodies made contact and her blood pumped harder.

  “Why, Alec, darlin’, I don’t mind tellin’ him,” Shae put in before Tilburn could respond. She turned to the man glaring at them. “I don’t mean to be rude, suh, but you are interruptin’ our honeymoon.” Did they even use that word in 1830? No matter. She snuggled closer to get the point across, then stifled a shiver when Alec slid his arm around her waist possessively, almost automatically.

  Tilburn studied them. Alec bent his head to brush a kiss against Shaelyn’s upturned face. It didn’t take any acting skill at all to look up at him as though she wanted more. She had to keep reminding herself that their goal was to keep Robert and Naomi safe.

  “Do you think we are out here helping slaves to freedom?” Alec asked as he continued to gaze at Shaelyn. He flicked a glance at Tilburn with a couldn’t-care-less attitude, then settled his gaze back on Shaelyn’s face. “Look around. Search the beach. But be quick about it and leave my wife and me alone.”

  Alec dismissed them then, as if they no longer existed. His head lowered to nuzzle against her neck and the skin along her left shoulder. Shaelyn concentrated on breathing evenly and keeping her knees from buckling while he played havoc with her senses. She heard the crunch of the men’s boots when they finally stopped staring at them and started their search. They crunched around the boulder. She felt Alec tense. The moon cast that side of the boulder into pitch black shadows. If the fugitives stayed absolutely quiet, they should be safe.

  Alec nuzzled her hair, sifted his fingers through the disheveled strands to cup the back of her head.

  “Saint’s blood, you smell good,” he murmured, but loud enough to be heard by the men.

  Shaelyn’s mind spun, her senses alive. Her blood heated and cartwheeled through her veins, coiling and spiraling to the center of all that made her a woman. Never in her life had a man’s touch come so close to bringing her to her knees.

  He continued to work his magic, trailing kisses along her neck, his lips never quite coming back to hers. When the men’s footsteps rounded the boulder, his body relaxed but his kisses continued.

  “I apologize for intrudin’,” Tilburn said from behind them.

  Alec didn’t even raise his head. With an unconcerned wave of his hand he dismissed the existence of the two men, then brought his lips back to Shaelyn’s, settling into a long, languid kiss that shot a trail of fire to the core of her being. Her body molded with his, ground into his as she encircled his waist beneath his shirt and pulled him closer. But still, she couldn’t get close enough. She wanted to crawl right into his skin, into his mind.

  The kiss went on for an eternity and she lost herself in the play of their tongues, the sweet taste of him, the feel of his heated hands against her bare skin and through her thin gown.

  Finally he raised his head and pulled her toward the steps. She followed him like an addict after her fix. As they climbed each step, his arm at her waist holding her close, he dropped light, butterfly kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. Every now and then they would stop and he would settle his mouth over hers again, his tongue sending delicious shivers through her body with the finesse of a master lover.

  When they reached the top step and he pulled her to him once again, she wasn’t sure her legs would carry her any further. She wanted to sink with him into the cool, dew-kissed grass at the edge of the garden and let him put out the fire he’d kindled in her.

  He raised his head and stared at the beach. Anyone watching them would have just seen two lovers embracing. Shaelyn looked up at him, her mind still drugged with his kisses. He guided her through the gate, and once the rose-covered arbor hid them, he took her head in both hands and delivered a quick, brotherly kiss to her forehead.

  “Excellent job, dear wife. I think they believed our act. Now, go to the house and tell Martin what has happened while I take the south path back to the cave.”

  “B...but,” Shaelyn stammered, her body screaming, her mind numb with disbelief as he disappeared into the garden amid the dark shadows of tall, fragrant bushes, “I wasn’t acting.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Alec’s body still burned with the fire of Shaelyn’s kisses, nearly twelve hours after the last one had all but consumed him. Leaving her standing there with tousled hair, all soft and open and freshly kissed, had quite possibly been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. But he’d had a mission to finish.

  He and Martin dismounted and wearily handed their reins over to Ned. After retrieving a terrified Robert and Naomi from the shallow depths of the cave, they had worked their way inland to meet Martin, who had arrived with horses and food. The four had then ridden as hard as they dare, considering Naomi’s condition, and had finally arrived at a farm on the underground network where the two slaves would be safe with the conductor until they could be sent further north.

  Alec had had only one other foray with the newly-formed, highly secret underground railroad. He much preferred his smuggling endeavors at sea, where, even though plagued with seasickness, he didn’t have to be concerned about what lurked behind each bush or tree or bend in the road.

  And now, all he wanted to do was go plunge his exhausted, still-burning body into the icy waves of the ocean and try to extinguish the flames that Shaelyn’s kisses and warm, willing body had ignited so many hours ago.

  Then he would finally have a talk with her.

  *******

  His swim in the frigid waters off shore had revived his energy, cleared his mind, but only smothered the smoking fire of Shaelyn’s kisses. Hot little embers still danced in his blood, just beneath the surface, threatening to burst back into flame at any moment.

  But too many disconcerting thoughts and questions plagued him for him to pay much heed to the embers. Too many unanswered question haunted him. He was determined to uncover some answers.

  He’d sent Molly on several errands to get her out from underfoot, and now Shaelyn sat across from him on the silk brocade loveseat, the delicate peach of one of her new gowns accentuating the color in her cheeks.

  She was angry with him, and hurt. Alec had enough experience with women to recognize the signs. Her gaze scanned the room, very deliberately avoiding looking anywhere near him. She relaxed into the loveseat, as if she hadn’t a care in the world, but he could hear the muffled, rhythmic tap of her foot beneath her skirts.

  Oh, yes, she was angry. But he wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t allowed her to go with him, because he’d kissed her, or because he’d stopped. For all he knew, it could be all three.

  “Ahem,” he began. She blinked slowly and finally directed her gaze toward him. The usual good humor and life in her odd, moss-colored eyes had been replaced with total disinterest and just a hint of irritation. Surprising, how empty that made him feel.

  “Shaelyn, in light of what occurred last night, I feel we must talk. I have been hesitant to pry into your life, considering I wrongly forced you into marriage. But you have now been involved in an illegal activity, one of which you seem to know quite a bit about for a genteel woman, or for any woman, and I must ask you some questions to protect both you and myself.”

  He awaited her reaction. He didn’t know if she would deny everything, become angry, play innocent. All he knew was she was entirely too well-informed about the underground railroad.

  She merely arched a well-defined brow and asked with anger dripping from her voice, “Such as?”

  He hadn’t quite expected that reaction.

  “Such as what you were doing in Cape Helm? On that ship? Why have you not contacted any rel
atives? Where are you own clothes? Why is your speech so odd? Why are you not like any other woman I have ever met in my life?” He stopped and took a breath. “And why did you say women worked on the underground railroad? Why do you know so much about a covert operation that is so newly in existence?”

  With her Southern accent and her unusual self-confidence, he could not help but fear that she worked as a spy for the southern states, to arrest and prosecute those working for the cause. Could she not contact anyone, or retrieve her own clothing, for fear of discovery?

  The anger seemed to drain from her with each question he posed. Uncertainty entered her eyes. She looked away and visibly searched within herself for answers to his questions. Was she testing out lies? She stared at the floor for so long, he feared she would refuse to answer.

  Finally she raised her eyes to meet his, the anger now replaced with something akin to resignation. A ripple of dread spread up his spine at that look. Whatever followed could not possibly be something he wanted to hear.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this,” she began, and his dread increased. “I...I’m...not from here.”

  He blinked at such an obvious statement.

  She clasped her hands, swallowed, and looked at her lap. After several seconds she raised her head and sighed. Her head shook in denial as she spoke.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this so that you’ll believe me. You’ve...” she looked down at her lap again and then back at him, “you’ve been very good to me, and I wouldn’t repay your kindness with lies. Besides,” she gave him somewhat of a pained smile, “I can’t think up any lies that would answer all your questions.”

  The dread nearly smothered him now, but she seemed genuinely distressed. He forced patience into his voice while he tried to relax the muscles knotting at the base of his neck.

  “What is it, Shaelyn? I can be an understanding man.”

  She gave him a doubtful look, chewed on her lower lip, then finally locked her gaze with his.

  “I got on the ship,” she began, “to do an article.”

  Oh, no. Not the journalist story. He struggled to keep the disbelief from his eyes and nodded for her to go on.

  “I went to the cabin that Pete sent me to. Pete was one of the sailors onboard. Anyway, in the companionway I dropped my pen and paper. The hallway was dark, so I had to sort of feel around for them. That’s when I found the ring.” Her hand went automatically to tug on the band. “Just as I put the ring on, the ship lurched. I bounced off the bulkheads and banged my head. I thought that’s why the room spun and I got so dizzy.”

  She searched his face and he nodded, trying to keep his expression open. She looked miserable, as if the words wouldn’t come. Her mouth opened to speak a couple of times, but then she dropped her gaze back to her lap. She quite obviously was struggling for words. He forced himself to remain quiet while she worked through it, though the effort was nearly impossible.

  She looked back up at him, her eyes pained, begging apology, begging to be believed.

  “The story I was writing was about...” she hesitated, as if she wouldn’t finish, but then she rushed on, “...was about the turn of the millennium.” She swallowed hard, her gaze locked with his.

  The millennium? The turn of the millennium? The year 1000? What had that to do with 1830, or why she was on the ship? Why had she been so hesitant to tell him that? He continued to look at her, the questions forming on his lips, but she stopped him from speaking.

  “I put the ring on...” she began, the same plea for belief in her eyes, but with a sense of resignation now instead of misery, “...when I put the ring on...it was in 1999.”

  His initial reaction was an uncontrollable arching of his eyebrows. Total silence filled the room, save for the faint heartbeat that drummed ever louder in his ears.

  1999? What a very foreign-sounding number. What could she possibly mean by that? Surely not the year 1999. That was what...one hundred and seventy years in the future? Why, that was just before... a shiver snaked up his spine, ...the turn of the millennium!

  His gaze focused back on Shaelyn, who obviously knew exactly what he was thinking, and who stared at him, affirming what she said and what he thought with her direct gaze. Almost challenging him with it.

  “You cannot possibly mean...” he began, but the words refused to come.

  She lifted her chin and finally glanced away.

  “That’s why I don’t have any clothes to send for. Why I don’t have any family or friends to contact.”

  Alec massaged his eyes, then dragged the palm of his hand down his face to rasp against his freshly-shaved chin.

  1999? Did she honestly expect him to believe her? Was she insane? Did she think him that ignorant? He kept his voice calm, fighting anger and confusion at such blatant lies.

  “So you are from 1999,” he said. “And what manner of transportation brought you to 1830?”

  She bristled at his patronizing tone but said nothing. Instead she held up her left hand and displayed the emerald and diamond ring.

  “The ring?” He kept his voice steady. “You think the ring brought you here?”

  She dropped her hand back into her lap and challenged him with her stare.

  “Yes, I do. You said yourself there were rumors about the ring having powers. The last person I saw in 1999 was Pete, and that was right before I put the ring on. The next thing I knew I was bouncing off the walls of a lurching ship, my head spinning and my mind fuzzy. The ship seemed newer, the cabin had two trunks filled with clothing. I dug through them until I found something appropriate for a wedding, then - ”

  “A wedding? How did you know about the wedding?”

  Shaelyn sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingers. When she spoke, she told an unbelievable story about something called a living history, where the participants dressed in historical costume and took on roles of different people, acting out everyday life and special occasions, somewhat like a play but not necessarily with a script. She told how she’d thought he was the actor portraying her betrothed, and why she’d panicked and behaved as she had when she’d realized he wasn’t taking her back to the ship.

  It all made sense. Her story was flawless, explaining everything from the wedding to why she knew so much about the underground railroad. Of course she would study such a thing in school. It explained her foreign behavior and odd speech. It explained everything flawlessly. Except why in the world she thought him dull-witted enough to believe she was from a hundred and seventy years in the future.

  Throughout the telling of her tale he remained calm. He also remained numb. He could not believe she had told him such outlandish things, yet he could not decide if she were insane and truly believed what she said, or if she merely acted the part in hopes of turning away suspicion.

  His heart fell, and the last glowing embers coursing through his blood faded and flickered out. He shoved away the memory of her kisses, the fiery passion she’d ignited within him, relegating those memories to the coldest, darkest part of his mind. As for his heart, he swept away even the tiniest ache to touch her.

  She saw it on his face. The defeated look in her eyes told him that. Surprisingly, she didn’t try to convince him. With a sigh of resignation she stood, smoothed the wrinkles from her skirts with studied control, then turned to leave the room.

  “Shaelyn.”

  She stopped but didn’t turn around.

  “I have contacted a master jeweler to remove the ring. When he returns from settling his brother’s affairs in South Carolina, you will be free to leave.”

  She drew in a breath but said nothing. After several seconds she took a step, and then another, toward the hall. With her hand on the door, her glance came around to meet his, just for an instant, as if she could not stop herself. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears, her brow creased with unspeakable pain. Their gazes locked, as if time had stopped, and then she turned and quietly shut the door.

  *******

  Shaely
n spent two days in her room, sending word of a headache to Molly, sending no word at all to Alec.

  She had never dreamed anything could ever hurt her as much as Alec’s declaration of her freedom had.

  She hadn’t expected him to believe her. She’d have been shocked if he said he did. But of all the scenarios that played through her mind while she decided whether or not to tell him the truth, his telling her he was having the ring cut off and then kicking her out never once entered her mind.

  Perhaps it should have. What else could he have done? He didn’t believe her. He probably thought she was a few bricks shy of a load. Did she expect to tell him a far-fetched story and then have him invite her to spend the rest of her life there?

  She rolled over and hugged the pillow closer to her.

  In the last few days she had fallen in love with a man who belonged in the past. A man she should never have met. She didn’t try to deny the fact anymore. She’d tried to ignore the feelings, tried to remind herself that she was a twentieth century woman, almost a twenty-first century woman, and she had family and friends there, a job she loved, a life of conveniences and luxuries beyond the most pampered lifestyle here.

  But she didn’t have a man there who could stop her heart with a smile, who could fire her blood with a brush of his lips across her hair, who could bring her to her knees just by telling her she smelled good. What would he do to her if he ever did more than just kiss her? She would probably melt into a pool of hot, thick honey, or ignite in a burst of flames and be reduced to a crumbling pile of ashes. Either way would be a wonderful way to go.

  But she didn’t have to wonder about that anymore. She already knew Alec well enough to know he would never seduce the lunatic in his home, even if she was his lawfully wedded wife. Even if she wanted it so much she ached.