between two boxes.
“Jacobs must have brought that in here.”
“I’ve never seen your Mr. Jacobs. You’re the one who
checked the lock on the door and lingered in the dining room
to study the liquor in the cabinet. If you weren’t looking for
whiskey, what were you looking for? I bet you spent the last
two days planning the robbery instead of finishing the jobs I
gave you.”
Caleb’s temper stirred. First she thought he was trying to
play out some sort of ruse with Lilly’s help. Then she’d accused
him of trying to bargain his work for time in her bed. Now, she
denounced him as a liar and a thief.
He tried to tamp down his anger. Hadn’t she learned
anything about how he felt about liquor? If he’d wanted it, he
would have taken it the first day.
“I was examining the workmanship of the cabinet, not
planning to steal its contents,” he said. “Maybe you’d better
ask Jacobs about the whiskey. He does have a taste for strong
drink.”
“And you don’t?” Becci drawled sarcastically. “You
probably fall below him in that department. You’re the only
one who has been in the house.” Becci paced back and forth in
front of the door, her hands on her hips. “Aunt Lilly and I both
saw you looking at the cabinet during one of your trips inside
the other day.”
She stopped pacing, and turned to face him. “What are
you doing? Casing the place? Not my house, mister. I’ve had
enough. You’ve taken the last thing you’ll ever take from me.
Leave, now, or I’m going to call the police.”
She’d had enough. Well so had he. He’d been patient. Hell,
he’d been a damnable saint. Caleb stood up and snapped the
sheet off.
Becci gasped.
Caleb hesitated for a moment, his breath hissing between
clenched teeth. With deliberately slow steps he crossed the
room, jerked his clothes off the nail beside the door and retraced
his path back to the bed. He tossed the clothes down and in
two long strides closed the distance between them. Less than
an inch separated them. With each breath, he drew in the soft
scent of wildflowers and felt the flimsy material of her blouse
brush against the hair on his chest.
“For the record, Mary Rebecca, I haven’t taken anything—
not even the medallion that belongs to me. And I have to have
that to get back to where I belong.”
Even though he was furious with her, he couldn’t fight the
urge to feel her mouth against his. Three days of trying to ignore
the way her pants molded her rounded bottom and her tops
teased him with glimpses of pale skin was all he could take.
He caught Becci by the shoulders, lowered his head and took
her lips for a taste of heaven. She tasted better than fresh, cold
water after a hard day in the field. He feathered kisses across
her lips from one corner of her mouth to the other. In his thirtytwo
years, he’d kissed lots of women, but none as tantalizing
as this stranger.
Becci gasped again, and Caleb took advantage of her parted
lips to dip his tongue into the sweetness of her mouth. She
tasted of milk and mint. Of anger and desire, heaven and hell,
and the forbidden fruit, all rolled into one.
He curled his fingers into her silky hair. It held the scent of
flowers and hung loose over her shoulders in a riotous flurry
of red curls. Lord, she felt good, and she tasted better than
anything he’d ever experienced.
Becci heard a deep-throated groan and realized it had come
from her. His kiss was tender and soothing. Her anger
evaporated as he slipped one hand to her waist and let the other
glide up to cup the back of her head.
She had to end this! And she would, in a minute.
She slipped her hands to his shoulders to push him away.
Instead, she pulled him closer, delighting in the explosive feel
of his flesh against her palms. He tensed as she wove her fingers
together behind his neck, but he didn’t back away.
He slid his hands down her arms, his thumbs grazing the
sides of her breasts. He moved his hands to her waist and took
the kiss deeper.
His hold tightened, and he drew her intimately nearer. She
could taste the hunger, the need, and something else that tugged
at her heart that she couldn’t quite identify. His arousal pressed
against her abdomen, and she instinctively arched against him.
Wanting. Needing. But not knowing how to put out the fire
he’d ignited. Her whole body trembled.
With a surge of need she couldn’t deny, she buried her
hands in the soft folds of his hair. She wanted his arms around
her, wanted to lose herself in his embrace. He reminded her of
summer storms—the scent of fresh pine needles and the fresh
soil of the flower beds after a much-needed rain.
Oh, Lord, Michael’s kisses had never tasted this good.
Michael!
Frantically she pushed against Caleb’s chest.
He pulled back and stared at her. His lips curled into the
half smile Rebecca had discovered was uniquely his. Seizing
her wrists, he held them against his chest with one hand. She
could feel the thunder of his heart, its pace matching her own.
He traced a line over her lips, then let his knuckles glide
over her cheek before dropping his arm to circle her waist.
He traced tiny circles in her palm with his thumb. Becci
stared at her hand cradled in his, his touch unbearably erotic,
provoking images of intimacies in rumpled satin sheets that
she had only read about. His kiss had kindled a fire deep inside
her.
She’d stormed into the shed ready to throw him out of her
life. Instead, he had dissolved her into a quivering mass of
jelly. The very sight of him made her desires soar. The feel of
his body against hers did strange things to her senses.
Michael had never made her tremble. No one ever had.
How could she kiss Caleb and enjoy it when her heart belonged
to another man? What could she be thinking of?
Heat warmed her cheeks at the realization that they were
plastered together from the waist down. Only her thin cotton
slacks and underwear separated her from his arousal, and she
didn’t want to move away.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” Caleb whispered. His eyes,
dark with passion, held hers. Inviting her to make the next
move, yet closing down as if to put a barrier between them.
“I’m not sorry I did, but you might be... and should be, if you
aren’t ready to….”
He glanced at the cot then back at her.
Becci jumped backwards as if he’d branded her.
Caleb chuckled and turned away. He jerked on his jeans
and shirt. When he faced her again, the guard on his emotions
appeared to be firmly in place.
“For the record, Miss Berclair, I don’t have a liking for
whiskey, and I’m not particularly fond of wine, either. I may
be a bastard, but I don’t lie, cheat or
steal. I did kill a man
once. I’m not proud of it, but it happened, and with good cause.”
Caleb picked up his hat and settled it on his head. “I owe
you a half day’s work for the use of your cot. If you have no
objection to me making that a full day, I’ll use the other half to
pay you for this.” He scooped the Bible off the floor and held
it up. “I found it among Rebecca’s things.”
Becci nodded, afraid her voice would betray the emotional
turmoil inside her.
“I’ll work straight through until dinner. Then I’ll be gone.”
“F...fine,” Becci stammered.
Caleb picked up the hoe he’d repaired yesterday and headed
for the garden. Becci had given him a list of chores. He still
had to weed the flowers before he left.
“Miss Berclair,” Caleb called from the doorway without
facing her. “It’s been a pleasure meeting my Rebecca’s
namesake. There is gold in the manor. I only need one small
piece of the treasure, and it’s not gold, it’s orichalc. You may
have the rest. Once I find it for you, I’m gone. I just wanted
you to know there are no bad feelings, and I’ll be no more
trouble to you. I also promise that I’ll take Jacobs back with
me, so you’ll have no more problems.”
That said, he walked out.
Becci stared at the empty doorway, her fingertips pressed
to her still tingling lips.
“Oh!”
The single syllable had come out as a breathy whisper.
Caleb Harrison packed a punch like no man she’d ever kissed.
How could she have behaved so…so wantonly with a stranger?
She should apologize, but her feet wouldn’t move. Her heart
pounded frantically—and not from fear, either.
Pepper leapt out of the corner and sent the empty whiskey
bottle spinning toward her. She retrieved it before it rolled away
and scooped up the kitten.
She held the cat up in front of her. “He proved one thing
for certain. He didn’t smell like he’d been up all night drinking.
But where else could the bottle have come from? I want to
believe him. I really do.”
***
Jacobs eased the blanket away from his face and watched
the woman scoop up the cat. He wished she would leave. He
needed a drink, but he didn’t dare move until she left.
But he couldn’t wait. He licked his lips, quietly twisted
the top off the whiskey bottle and swallowed a big gulp. Damn
woman. At least he’d had the good sense to stay under the
blanket out of sight while she accused Caleb of stealin’.
He brushed his mouth on his shirtsleeve. Two bottles
wouldn’t last him long. He would have ta slow his drinkin’
until he learned where they kept their stash. He tucked the full
bottle in the crook of his arm, took another swig of the open
one and moved deeper into the shadows. Slow, he ordered
silently. Drink it slow.
***
She’d made a mistake, and thievery had nothing to do with
it. The danger lay in Caleb’s kiss, which had felt like magic.
Becci tossed the bottle in the trash can and combed her
fingers through Pepper’s soft fur. The cat mewed, squirmed
free and scurried out the door. She was sure it was following
Caleb.
“Traitor.” Becci dusted her hands and scanned the dingy
surroundings. A single row of boxes, all marked books, lined
the same wall the cot occupied. Another row of boxes lined the
other wall. Caleb Harrison certainly wasn’t lazy. He’d done
more work in three days than two men could in a week.
There had to be something here that gave her a clue about
the real Caleb Harrison, and she was still convinced her Caleb
couldn’t be the one from the past.
She took a tentative step toward the cot. Why had he wanted
the Bible? She traced the raised letters on the bible’s front and
ruffled the thin pages. Slowly, she lifted the time-aged cover to
the dedication page and read the inscription.
Accept this, my gift to you, Caleb Harrison. You are a
young man ahead of your time. A soul destined for future
greatness. Listen and learn, read and pray. We, here at Our
Lady of Sorrow Orphanage, wish you the best. God bless you.
Your friend,
Sister Teresa
Caleb hadn’t said why he wanted the bible, but now she
knew. It definitely belonged to a Caleb Harrison, but was he
the Caleb Harrison? She turned to the middle section to see if
anything had been listed there.
The family tree had the name Sara beside the word mother.
Where the father’s name would be, a child’s hand had written
“Bastard.” The label didn’t mean much today, but a hundred
and sixty years ago it held the power to scar a child for life.
Two other names were listed on the page. The first had
two small paragraphs beside it.
Elizabeth Murray, as of the fifteenth day of January in the
year of our Lord 18 0 has agreed to become my Mrs. We will
wed in the summer.
Becci smiled at the simple statement of love. But as she
read the rest, her smile died.
My dearest Elizabeth laid to rest this fifth day of April in
the year of our Lord 18 0. Killed by the hand of an illicit
lover. Good-bye Elizabeth.
“Killed by an illicit lover?” She’d seen words similar to
those when she’d scanned the last page of Rebecca’s diary.
They were in the paragraph speaking of Rebecca’s death. The
journal entry bore the signature of Obadiah Berclair, Saul’s
brother.
The names of Saul and Rebecca were next in Caleb’s Bible
beside the date of May 10, 18 5. Only one paragraph followed
their names.
My thanks to one of the fine citizens of Raleigh. I now
know Saul and Rebecca Berclair. They are more than friends.
I feel as if we share a rare kinship.
Becci closed the Bible and backed away from the cot. “Oh,
Caleb. Did you kill Rebecca? And why did you come forward
in time? Are you here to kill me, too?”
She shook her head at the question and whispered, “No.”
She knew Caleb wouldn’t harm her.
“Please, how can I help?” she asked, her hand resting on
the Bible.
A noise startled her.
Becci whirled around to face the intruder. She clutched
her hand to her chest to try and calm her wildly pounding heart
as she realized the shed was empty.
***
Becci pressed her toe against the floor and rocked back
and forth in the kitchen chair as she watched her aunt roll out
dough for the apple pies. One by one Lilly set the three crusts
aside. Then she pulled out the bag of Rome apples they’d
purchased earlier in the week and laid them on the counter.
“He didn’t do it,” Lilly said as she dug through the utensil
drawer. She didn’t have to explain what she meant. Becci knew.
Ever since they woke to the sound of breaking glass, Aunt Lilly
had defended Caleb.
“I know,” Becci said with a sigh. “At least, I kno
w he
didn’t drink it. If he had, I would have smelled it on his breath
when he kissed me.”
“Kissed you?” Lilly glanced at Becci, her eyes sparkling
with delight as she grabbed the paring knife out of the drawer
and snatched up the sack of apples. She crossed to the table,
plopped the apples onto the surface and pulled out the chair
beside Becci’s. “I think we need to have a little talk. Why are
you and Caleb kissing? You hardly know the man.”
Heat rushed to Becci’s cheeks. She hadn’t meant to tell
her aunt about the kiss. And she certainly couldn’t tell her all
the circumstances surrounding it.
“The only reason Caleb kissed me is because I made him
angry. Besides, I’m engaged, remember.”
“Pooh. You might be engaged, but you can’t possible love
Michael. Just compare the two. Michael’s lazy. Not Caleb. No
siree. Caleb Harrison is one strong man. And I swear, have you
ever seen a more handsome man, Mary Rebecca?”
Becci laughed. “He called me Mary Rebecca, too. Only it
didn’t sound as if he meant it as an endearment.”
“Oh, dear. You weren’t kidding when you said you made
him angry. I bet he didn’t raise his voice though, did he?”
“No. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone speak
that soft when angry,” Becci mused.
“I assumed as much. Rebecca said his voice got soft when
his dander got ruffled. Which, according to her, wasn’t often.
But when it happened, he would call her by her full name.”
“How do you know that?” Becci asked, the front legs of
her chair coming down with a loud crack.
“It’s in the journal. I’ll show you.”
Before Becci could stop her, Lilly headed for the box in
the far corner and pulled it across the room. As she reached for
the top book, Becci caught her wrist.
“Have you looked at these since I put them away last
night?”
“No. Why?” Lilly asked, glancing from Becci’s hand
cinching her wrist to the box.
“I—I put the last journal on the bottom of the stack, and
now it’s on top. You’re sure you didn’t bother them?”
“I’m sure. And don’t start accusing Caleb. He hasn’t been
in the house since early yesterday.”
“Unless he stole the whiskey,” Becci reminded.
“Becci, you had the books upstairs, remember? You took
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