Wind blew the screen door open. The hinges creaked. Becci
whirled around and listened for another sound.
Nothing. Just her wishful thinking. If Caleb had planned
on coming, he would have already been here.
Hesitantly, she took the stairs one at a time. She’d done all
she could to make Caleb come to her. For more than fifteen
minutes she’d stood at the window gazing into the night, hoping
he hadn’t changed his mind and knowing he had.
The door. She whirled around on the landing. She had to
lock the back door. With the wind blowing and the rain falling
in solid sheets, she should check all the windows and fasten
the screens as well. She expelled a weary sigh as she started
back down.
A lock snapped into place, echoing through the house like
a gunshot.
Becci paused.
Footsteps whispered across the kitchen floor.
Reflexively she tightened her hold on the railing. The
footfalls vanished, and Becci realized the intruder had entered
the carpeted dining room. She listened intently to each minute
sound, trying to distinguish between the pounding of her heart
and the hushed fall of cautious steps.
Glass shook when the corner cabinet’s door popped free
of the magnet latch. At least this time the intruder hadn’t broken
the glass to get his whiskey. She stifled a groan. All the liquor
for tomorrow night’s party was in that cabinet. She couldn’t
let Jacobs get away with it this time. She took a step downward
and stopped. The glass rattled again as the door shut.
All the sounds mingled into a symphony of confusion.
Muffled footsteps merged with the other nighttime sounds. The
floor creaked, windows rattled, curtains rustled, and tree limbs
scraped.
The hair on her nape bristled. Her instincts warned her
that danger lurked in the dark shadows downstairs.
Cold terror rippled through her. She had to find a weapon.
Sixteen
Becci glanced down the hall. After a week of walking
around screwdrivers, hammers and paint cans, why had she
cleaned everything up tonight? There wasn’t even a stir-stick
she could use to protect herself. She struggled to stay calm
while listening to each sound the intruder made so she could
figure out exactly where he was. Then she heard footfalls
dragging across linoleum.
The kitchen.
A loud whack indicated something had been set on the
counter or table, which meant he was between the back door
and the living room entry. A loud crash, a violent curse, and
the click of a switch interrupted the whispered sounds. Light
streaked from the kitchen, lighting the dining room and seeping
into the shadows across the entry hall’s slick marble flooring,
drawing Becci’s attention to the tools in the corner.
She started down the stairs, only to stop when another sharp
curse preceded the scrape of what she assumed was the fallen
object being righted. Then a small click plunged everything
back into darkness.
Hushed rustling sounds came closer, and then a shadow
moved at the bottom of the stairs.
Please let it be Caleb.
A stooped-shouldered, masculine outline, barely visible in
the darkness, stood at the foot of the stairs. Becci raised her
hand to her chest and tried to calm her racing heart.
“Caleb?” she whispered hopefully, even though she knew
this man held little resemblance to the man she loved.
The form came to halt. “No, ma’am,” a coarse, gravelly
voice ground out. “I’m Willie Jacobs, and I come to see you.
Ain’t no need for Caleb to keep you to hisself. I thought we’d
share a little drink and have a little fun. I left the whiskey on
the kitchen table ‘cause I decided to save it ‘til later. It can
wait, but other things jist can’t.”
Jacobs stepped close enough for her to see him brush a
fisted hand over his mouth. He looked her up and down.
“You got something better in store fer yoreself tonight,
filly. You got yoreself William Jacobs. I ain’t never had me a
woman as purty as you.” As he spoke he inched up the stairs.
“I’s got more experience than young Caleb. Had me some
mighty good women to pleasure me.”
Lightning flashed against a shiny object in Jacobs’ hand.
He moved closer, and the sickening smell of stale whiskey and
unwashed body collided together in a gagging odor.
“Where...Where’s Caleb?” Becci asked, as a shiver raked
her body from head to toe. Her legs were barely able to keep
her upright.
Run! she silently ordered herself, but her feet refused to
obey. Upstairs she would be trapped. Less than three steps away,
a screwdriver lay in the corner entry hall’s corner. But to reach
it she had to pass Jacobs.
“Oh, don’t ya worry yore purty little head. He won’t be
interruptin’ us. I locked him in the shed,” Jacobs said as he
reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. “Yes, siree. You’s
a purty thing,” he added, tracing the narrow strap of her
nightgown.
He cupped his hand over her shoulder and squeezed it.
Becci cringed at his touch. “We gonna have us some fun while
he’s figurin’ how to get out. He’ll git you later. I don’t mind
sharin’, but I’m here now, and he ain’t, so...”
“Wrong, Jacobs. I’m here. And you might not mind sharing,
but I do,” Caleb said from the shadowed doorway leading to
Lilly’s room. “You touch my woman again, and you might not
make it back to Raleigh after all.”
Caleb reached up and flicked on the light. Relief swamped
Becci. Caleb wouldn’t let Jacobs harm her.
“What difference does it make ta you?” Jacobs whined.
“She ain’t no prize. Besides, ya got nothin’ to threaten me with.
Ya don’t know the way back yoreself. That ole me-dallion ain’t
the key. You’s just tryin’ to trick me so ya can keep all that
gold you hid.”
“Sheath the knife and keep that mouth of yours closed, or
you won’t be going back with me.”
Jacobs held the long metal blade up to Becci’s cheek, and
she heard Caleb draw in a breath and slowly release it with a
hiss.
“Why? She knows yore lookin’ for the gold. Jist like I
knows you plan on keepin’ it all.”
“Put the knife down, Jacobs. We’ll discuss this later.”
Becci couldn’t stop the sob that wrenched from her when
Jacobs tightened his grip on her shoulder. The man scowled at
her then returned his attention to Caleb.
“Your only chance of getting back is with me, Jacobs,”
Caleb said. “Don’t forfeit that because of a woman. I asked
you to wait until after the party on Saturday. If I don’t come
through then—”
Caleb left the conclusion up to Jacobs and forced himself
to breathe as he inched toward the stairs.
Slowly, Jacobs lowered the blade. Caleb reacted instantly.
Catching the newel post, he swung around, caught J
acobs’ wrist
and slammed it against the wall. The knife tumbled down the
steps and landed with a loud crack on the marble floor.
Caleb pinned Jacobs with a forearm to his throat. “Go
upstairs, Becci.”
She hurriedly made her way to the landing. Her breath came
in short gulps. Fear made each gulp harder to draw in. She saw
Caleb slam Jacobs into the wall again, his hands tightening on
the man’s neck.
“I didn’t mean no harm,” Jacobs gasped clawing at Caleb’s
fingers. “I’s jist...I’s....”
“Caleb, stop! Don’t kill him. He’s not worth your life,”
Becci said.
For a moment she didn’t know if he’d heard her, but then
he slowly loosened his grip, gathered Jacobs’s shirt collar and
twisted it so the man stood on tiptoe. “You listen to me, and
you listen good,” Caleb growled. “Unless you want me to use
that knife on you, you’ll do what I say.” He shoved him away.
“Get out and don’t ever let me catch you in this house again.”
Jacobs scooted down the two steps, his back pressed against
the wall.
Becci rested one hand on her quivering stomach and
covered her mouth with the other.
The door slammed, sending an echo vibrating through the
house. Her legs trembled and her heart raced. She could no
longer hold herself upright. With a sob, she melted to the floor.
She needed Caleb’s strength—needed his assurance that
everything was going to be all right—but he remained at the
bottom of the steps, his hands on his hips. His shoulders heaved
up and down with each breath he took. Finally, he looked up at
her, and she was startled to see his furious expression.
“What in hell were you doing prancing around more than
half naked in that see-through thing?” he snapped. “Damn it,
Jacobs is just a man. He shouldn’t have busted in here like he
did, but if I’d been in his shoes, I’d have taken that vision of
you in the window as an open invitation for whoever decides
to come calling.”
She gasped at the hardness in his voice. “This is my house,
Caleb Harrison. Neither you nor Jacobs belong in my back
yard peeping in my windows. And, for your information, I wore
this…this see-through thing for you!” she yelled around another
sob.
She wiped at a tear trickling down her cheek, then hugged
her body as a shiver swept over her.
As his anger subsided, Caleb focused his attention on Becci.
His breath caught at the sight of her. She was nothing but a
puddle of black silk, pale skin and glistening red hair sitting
on the first landing. Her arms were wrapped around her middle,
and she was leaning forward as if in agony. He took the steps
three at a time, reaching her in two long strides.
Helplessness joined the other emotions he’d felt over the
last five minutes. Fear for Becci. Anger at himself for letting
Jacobs trick him. And rage at the thought of what might have
happened if he hadn’t gotten out of the shed.
He dropped down to the step beside Becci and eased her
onto his lap. His fingers trembled as he combed them through
her silky hair, and he hugged her close to his chest. He would
have lost her forever if he hadn’t seen the light flash on and
Jacobs moving about the kitchen. His Becci might have met
the same fate as Rebecca.
His heart lurched. Lord, help him, he loved her.
“When I saw the knife, all I could remember was Jacobs
dropping that same blood-soaked knife to the floor just before
we went through Rebecca’s bedroom door and ended up here,”
Caleb said hoarsely. “According to the diary, that was the day
Rebecca lost her life. And that’s my knife, Becci.”
Struggling for control, he gulped in a breath and shook off
the memory. “He killed Rebecca. He killed her with my knife.
I know he did. When I saw Jacobs in the kitchen with that
same knife in his hand again, I didn’t know if I’d be able to
save you. I thought I would fail you just as I have failed Luke
and Rebecca.”
He rocked her gently. The feelings welling up inside him
rocked him to the core. He didn’t want to leave Becci and go
back to his time. He wanted to stay here and always protect
her. Why did he have to go? Why couldn’t he forget the life
that awaited him in the past?
Because he had a promise to keep.
He buried his face in Becci’s hair. Her intoxicating scent
surrounded him. The first time he’d gotten a whiff of it she’d
been combing his hair off his forehead with her fingers.
It seemed like an eternity had passed since that day instead
of just a few weeks.
“I thought Jacobs knocked the stack of wood over in front
of the shed door by accident. I realize now it wasn’t an
accident.”
“He trapped you?”
“Yes. I hoped you would come to the shed when I didn’t
show up.” Easing Becci away, he curled one finger under her
chin and lifted her head so he could look in her eyes. “I should
have known you wouldn’t come to me, you being a lady, but I
hoped.”
“But, how did you get out?”
Caleb lowered her head back to his chest and rubbed his
hands over her arms. His senses came alive with the essence of
her. “I broke the shed window. I had to. When the light flashed
on in the kitchen, I realized what Jacobs was doing. I knew I
had to find a way to save you. I’d have busted the whole wall
out to save you if necessary, Becci, my love,” he confessed.
Caleb tugged gently on Becci’s hair until she gazed up at
him. Then he lowered his mouth to hers.
My love. The words showered Becci with hope. She didn’t
bother trying to respond. There was nothing she could say that
would convey what she felt in her heart. The best she could do
was show Caleb what it meant to be loved.
With new resolve, Becci tentatively slipped her tongue
between Caleb’s parted lips. Flames of desire flickered within
her when he groaned and responded with the same fiery need.
He brushed his knuckles down her cheek to her neck and then
to her shoulder, sending a shower of sparks trickling over her.
With a boldness she didn’t know she processed, she circled his
wrist and lowered his hand to her breast.
Caleb tried to still his trembling hands. Lying with Becci
would be different than anything he’d ever experienced. He’d
never made love before.
He deepened their kiss. He needed to caress her softness,
to touch her gentle curves and feel her response. He wanted
her hands on him—craved the soothing sweep of them over
his skin.
Each kiss created a need for another within him. Each brush
of his hand on her body begged to be repeated. She was as
delicate as a rare flower, as fragile as a fine bone teacup, and
he loved her.
Touching his lips to the corners of her mouth, he let his
tongue dip in t
o taste her sweetness. Slowly, he mapped out a
line of kisses from the delicate tilt of her chin, down her neck
to her shoulder. And lower. He cupped her breast in his hand
and lifted it to his mouth, circling his tongue around the
distended peak, then gently tugging at it through the thin
material. She arched, giving him full access, but the gown kept
him a fraction too far away. He’d waited so long—wanted her
for so long—that his control teetered on the brink of vanishing.
He paused to fight for control, and Becci groaned in protest.
He felt more alive than at any other time in his life. He’d known
from the first kiss that what he felt for Becci was different
from any other emotional attachment he’d ever experienced.
Becci slipped off his lap and shrugged off her negligee in
one fluid motion. She needed to feel his touch. Flesh to flesh.
She wanted his whole body pressed to hers.
She knelt in front of him and jerked at the front of his
shirt, frantic to touch him as he’d been touching her. One by
one the buttons popped free and bounced like tiny bits of glass
down the stairs. She threaded her fingers through the thick patch
of coarse hair on his chest, enjoying the texture. She felt his
muscles tense as her touch floated over him.
Caleb lifted his hand to trace a line from her shoulder to
her breast to her waist. She could hear his shaky breath, feel
the shuddered cadence vibrating against her palm. His mouth
moved to hers again as he swept his hand to the core of the
heat pulsing in her. She arched against his palm, asking
instinctively with her body what her mind couldn’t comprehend.
“Bedroom,” he choked out.
“Here,” Becci corrected, covering his mouth before he
could protest. She didn’t want to release him. For two weeks
she had dreamed of him pressing his body to hers. The place
didn’t matter. Jacobs had been right about one thing. Some
things just couldn’t wait.
She pulled him down so that she lay beneath him, and he
hovered over her. Then she fumbled with the top button of his
fly until he finally shoved her hands away and flicked the whole
line open. Becci took over from there, slowly tugging the front
of his pants apart and slipping her hand over his arousal.
He shivered and caught her wrist, bringing her hand to his
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