Christopher, Barbara - Keeper of Key.txt

by Keeper of Key. txt (lit)

find the rest of the gold and save the manor. Hopefully, there

  would be enough gold that it would give Becci the happiness

  and financial security she sought. Especially if Rebecca had

  hidden more gold in the secret compartments of the other

  furniture he’d made.

  Caleb drew a rough diagram of each piece. After writing

  the instructions, he shoved the book into his saddlebags and

  slid them back under his bunk. He pulled out the boots he would

  wear to the party and a cloth. He had an hour to kill before it

  was time to go to the house.

  A little earlier, Lilly had brought the clothes and shoes to

  him so he could dress in the shed and stay out of her sister

  Maude’s way. According to Lilly, her sister didn’t want anyone

  near the kitchen—not even Lilly.

  Becci would expect him to be in the parlor before the first

  guests arrived. Maybe he would get the chance to tell her about

  the gold he’d left in the trinket box.

  ***

  Caleb made it to the house in plenty of time only to find

  that Maude had lifted her ban on outsiders helping. Lilly had

  promptly ushered him into the kitchen to help. Now he stood a

  step behind Becci as she greeted and introduced herself to the

  new arrivals and totally ignored him.

  He battled the curse that threatened to erupt. It hurt for her

  to act as if he wasn’t even there while she blushed at the casual

  compliments every man who entered made. She even let them

  hold her hand a fraction longer than necessary.

  She was so beautiful and more nervous than he’d ever seen

  her. Each time someone knocked or rang the bell, she moistened

  her lips with the tip of her tongue, gently patted the upsweep

  of her hair, and wrung her hands before she opened the door.

  He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her everything

  would be all right. He knew it would. Especially now that he’d

  found the gold hidden in the dresser.

  Even minus the medallion, there should be plenty for her

  to pay off all her debts and live on until the nursery got a

  foothold. She would be fine after he left.

  Left.

  The thought gnawed at his gut. He was leaving.

  Why had he been brought to this time period? And why,

  after he’d been given a taste of love, did he have to go back? It

  wasn’t right. And what if Becci was carrying his child?

  He felt himself pale. He’d been so wrapped up in loving

  her that he hadn’t considered she might get pregnant. He

  couldn’t leave without knowing. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—leave

  his child to suffer the way he had.

  Slipping his arm around Becci’s waist, he pulled her closer.

  She tensed at the intimacy but didn’t move away, and relief

  seeped through him. He nodded at the new arrivals and extended

  his hand.

  “I’m Caleb Harrison, and this is Becci Berclair. We are

  the host and hostess. We’re happy you could make it tonight.”

  Oops. Big mistake. He felt her back stiffen. Not once

  tonight had she introduced him as the host.

  Becci gave the new arrivals a typed letter explaining her

  plans for the house and waited until they were out of sight

  before she whirled around. He braced himself for her anger,

  but her green eyes were sparkling with excitement.

  “I’m sorry, Caleb. You should have moved up sooner. I’m

  just so nervous. This means so much to me.”

  Caleb brushed a kiss to her temple. “Relax, Miss Berclair.

  You are a great hostess.”

  Becci smiled up at him. “And you make a great host, Mr.

  Harrison.”

  He bowed and took a step backward. “Maybe I should go

  to the kitchen and see if Lilly and Maude need my help.”

  Becci caught his shirtsleeve before he could turn away and

  stepped closer, saying, “No. I need you beside me.”

  “Are you expecting anyone else?” he asked.

  “Michael said to expect around twenty-five people, but I

  think I’ve already greeted more than that,” she answered.

  “I counted thirty-three, and that doesn’t include Lilly, her

  sister, or us, so why don’t we join the others?” Caleb caught

  her hand, placed it in the crook of his arm, and guided her

  toward the living room.

  Becci held his arm tighter than necessary. She didn’t want

  him to let go of her. She tried to tell herself that it had nothing

  to do with his leaving, but she knew it had everything to do

  with it.

  When they reached the doorway, Caleb eyed the room

  where people stood in clusters and dancers twirled about in

  the center of the floor. He’d gotten angry when Ascott showed

  up an hour early and started ordering the caterers to push the

  furniture back against the walls so people could dance. He had

  to admit, however, that it was a terrific idea.

  He grinned when Becci winked at him and crooked her

  finger, motioning for him to follow her into the room. Music

  drifted through the house and seeped into every corner. The

  songs weren’t familiar, and the dancing had changed, but the

  thought of holding Becci in his arms had Caleb’s mind drifting

  back to the night they’d spent together.

  “Caleb, why don’t you mingle while I check on Aunt Lilly?”

  Becci suggested and, without waiting for an answer,

  disappeared into the crowd.

  Caleb glanced at the various groups talking about the events

  of the day. Instead of sitting quietly around the edges of the

  room as they did in his time, the women mingled with the men

  and joined in the discussions. The men’s attire ranged from

  suits with vests to thick denim pants and wild print shirts. Some

  of the women even wore pants.

  He circled the room twice, taking in bits of the different

  conversations. Twenty minutes later he spotted Becci standing

  by the kitchen door and slowly headed in her direction.

  After watching the couples dancing, Caleb wanted to pull

  Becci out on the floor and whirl her about, but the music lacked

  the beat he’d clicked his heels to at barn dances. Still he liked

  it and—thanks to Miss Lilly’s fifteen minutes of dance

  instructions—he thought he could handle a slow dance or two

  with Becci.

  Lilly had told him to hold Becci close, explaining that it

  was no longer improper to embrace a woman while you danced.

  As he surveyed the swaying couples, he saw what she meant.

  In his time, folks would be scandalized, and he would have

  been, too, if he hadn’t learned that people today weren’t as

  they were in his day.

  Mr. Latham danced with his wife, a stout woman twice his

  size, and their hips brushed seductively together. Another

  couple, years younger than most of the others in attendance,

  were so close there was no denying that they would prefer being

  somewhere else—alone.

  That brought memories of Becci’s and his night together,

  and he suddenly needed to get to her immediately. He wanted

  to touch her, to hold her. He wanted…

  He cut off the thought. He
wasn’t going to dwell on what

  he couldn’t have.

  One song ended and another began before he reached Becci.

  She stood in the middle of a group of women discussing the

  antiques.

  “Hi,” he said, carefully extracting her from the group.

  “Hi yourself.”

  She smiled up at him, and his heart lurched. “May I have

  the next dance?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  She slipped her hand over his shoulder and rested her cheek

  in the curve of his neck just as the next song drifted from the

  stereo system.

  “You dance quite well,” Becci complimented after they’d

  circled the dance floor.

  “Thank you. Miss Lilly gave me a quick lesson before you

  came downstairs. I’ve been watching the others carefully so I

  wouldn’t embarrass you, but I’m still not real good on my feet.”

  “You’re not bad, but I must admit, I think you’re better off

  your feet,” Becci said rising up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to

  his lips.

  Caleb groaned. “Woman, you’d best not do that again. I’m

  mighty close to carrying you upstairs, and I don’t care who

  knows.”

  Dancing with Becci was not going to make the evening go

  faster. He would much rather be where he could take his time

  discovering how many ways there were to love her. The thought

  sent a sudden rush of heat flowing though his body. He wrapped

  one arm around her waist and held her head to his shoulder.

  They swayed from side to side barely moving.

  The song ended too soon. “I don’t want to let you go,”

  Caleb whispered. “You feel so right in my arms.”

  The first chords of the next song started, but before he

  could fit her securely in his arms, the doorbell echoed through

  the house. Becci stepped back.

  “Get a drink and mingle. Hopefully everyone will go home

  early, and we can test my theory on your dexterity.” She pressed

  two fingers to her lips then to his before backing away.

  His gaze trailed after her, and he knew the dance they had

  just shared would be the only one tonight. His heart ached.

  Tomorrow he would be gone.

  Becci disappeared into the crowd, taking his heart with

  her. At least they had tonight, but the party wouldn’t end for a

  couple more hours.

  As he walked up to the bar, a woman caught him by the

  arm. “Hi, handsome. I’m Susan. I think you’re supposed to be

  my date tonight.” She ran her free hand over her hip, drawing

  attention to the red dress that hugged her figure.

  “I don’t think so,” Caleb said. He turned to the waiter.

  “Just a soft drink for me.” He wasn’t sure what a soft drink

  was, but Lilly had assured him it wasn’t spirits and would be

  safe for him to drink.

  “You are Caleb Harrison, aren’t you?”

  He glanced at the woman as he took his glass. She wove

  her fingers through her hair, making it hang over one eye. She

  then brushed the long blond strands over her shoulder and

  looked up at him through half-closed eyes. With one finger,

  she traced the low cut neckline of her dress, drawing his eyes

  to her cleavage.

  The moves were obviously the same century to century.

  This woman might have easily been from a neighboring

  bordello, if they still had them, but Becci said they no longer

  existed.

  “My name is Caleb Harrison, but you are not my date.”

  “Sure I am. You’re the host, aren’t you?”

  Caleb nodded.

  “Then you’re my date. Besides, I don’t see anyone else

  clinging to you. With a bod like yours, I have no idea why,

  either.”

  “What do you want?” he asked, not sure what she meant

  by bod, but not about to ask.

  “You, of course.” She laughed, a shrieking, sharp twang

  that made him bristle. “But since you’re determined that I’m

  not your date, I’ll settle for a glass of wine. Any kind as long as

  it’s white.”

  When the bartender handed him the glass, he handed it to

  her and walked over to a group of men discussing something

  called pollution. The conversations were too steep for his

  limited knowledge, so he contented himself by listening and

  learning.

  Susan followed him, slipped her hands around his arm and

  leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “The flowers are a nice touch.” She ran a fingernail up and

  down the length of his arm. “I love flowers.”

  “It wasn’t uncommon for the ladies of the eighteen

  hundreds to decorate with large vases of fresh flowers,” Caleb

  told her as he glanced around the room. Bouquets were placed

  on each of the glass-topped tables.

  He pried his arm away from Susan and continued his

  journey around the room. With a slow stride he moved from

  group to group, studying all the different people.

  Each time he stopped, Susan caught him by the elbow and

  leaned her cheek against his shoulder. He’d gone full circle,

  returning to the secluded corner of the room where the bartender

  served drinks. For almost an hour Caleb had tipped the same

  glass of cola to his lips, barely tasting the strange liquid, while

  he tried to escape the blonde trailing after him. No matter where

  he went, she followed as if someone had ordered her to stick

  by his side.

  “If you don’t know how to dance, I’d be glad to give you a

  few private lessons.”

  Her sultry words sent a chill down his spine. He had to

  admit she was pretty, but her voice ruined the effect. And she

  wasn’t Becci.

  “I know how to dance. I just don’t want to,” he said. He

  downed the last few drops of the soft drink, letting its sweet

  taste coat his throat, then set his empty glass back on the bar

  and waited for the man to refill it. If he danced with anyone, it

  would be Becci, not some overly forward woman wearing a

  red dress that barely covered her essentials.

  She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and raised up

  on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “We could go upstairs. It

  would be the perfect place for us to get to know each other

  better.”

  “Lady, I don’t have the money to pay for your services,

  and even if I did, you’re not my type. If you’re desperate for a

  man, go find someone else.”

  She laughed. “Why, sugar, I think you misunderstood me.

  I don’t charge, and I don’t sleep with just anyone. It’s you I

  want. What harm is there in my occupying your time until this

  dreadful party is over? After all, you are supposed to be my

  date for this charade.”

  He’d given up correcting her. He eyed her warily as she

  tipped her head to one side, then flipped her hair back and

  moved closer.

  “I must admit that you’re a lot better looking than that

  bum Michael fixed me up with for that phony fund raiser.

  Imagine anyone falling for the bullshit Michael has been feeding

  Ms. Berclair.” She shook her head. “Ascomp. What
a crock. If

  she’d checked on them, she would know that there is no Ascomp

  Corporation. There never has been, and,” she continued drawing

  out the word, “if she hadn’t broken off their engagement for

  some country hick, Michael would already have this house sold

  and torn down. Now he’ll just have to find some other way to

  steal it from the bitch.”

  Caleb paused, his hand tightening on the glass as he inched

  it to his lips. He turned the full glass up and tossed back the

  liquid in one swift gulp. Had he heard this woman correctly?

  Had everything been a ruse? “If you’ll excuse me, miss, I need

  to make a phone call.”

  She raked her long nails through his hair. “You just go

  ahead and make that little call. I’ll be right here waiting for

  you when you return.”

  Caleb said a prayer of thanks for the soap operas Miss

  Lilly had made him watch to teach him about modern day

  language. Otherwise, he might not have understood the

  significance of what the woman had told him. Now he had to

  find Becci and tell her that all this had been for nothing—that

  Ascott was trying to steal her home from her.

  Nineteen

  Becci returned to her guests after informing Mr. Latham

  he had a call and showing him to the phone. She joined a group

  of antique dealers. They all chatted about the various pieces in

  the house, but she couldn’t keep her mind on the conversation.

  She was covertly watching Caleb, and every time he leaned

  closer to the blonde, Becci wanted to scream. What she felt

  couldn’t be jealousy, could it?

  Absolutely not. Well, maybe. She did want to wipe that

  flirtatious, cocky grin off Caleb’s face and give him a piece of

  her mind. As for the woman, she itched to confront the look-

  at-me-I’m-willing bombshell and give her a piece of her mind,

  too. Yes, she was definitely jealous. She wanted to pull out the

  bleached blonde’s hair a single strand at a time, the slower the

  better.

  “Is that cameo an antique, too?”

  “Huh...Oh, yes,” Becci said, bringing her attention back

  to the group. “I believe it was given to the first Rebecca Berclair

  in celebration of the birth of her son, Luke, by the boy’s

  godfather.”

  Becci raised her hand to the cameo and tried to concentrate

  on what the ladies were discussing. It was impossible. Right