by Annie Seaton
Striding behind her, he caught up to her and grabbed her arm. She jerked away angrily.
“Leave me alone.”
“That’s not the message I got from you last night.”
She glared at him. “Yeah, well, last night was last night and this is today.”
“Look, it’s still about three miles this way to the cottage. Come back with me.”
Megan frowned at him and bit her lip. He could almost hear her thoughts. She was totally pissed off with him. “Look, we had sex. It was great. But you left me and now you’re trying to tell me I have to come back with you?” She looked down at her bare feet and he waited for her to make a decision. “Give me one good reason why I should.”
“I’ll borrow Bear’s van and drive you home as soon as we finish our set. You can listen to the band again and you won’t have to walk back in your bare feet.”
If that didn’t work and she decided to keep going, he was going to have to force her to go with him, and he didn’t want to have to do that, especially since he couldn’t think of any way to do that, apart from putting her over his shoulder.
“All right,” she said begrudgingly and he let out the breath he’d been holding. “I suppose that makes sense and I get to hear your band play again.” Finally, she flashed him a brief smile. “You do a brilliant cover version of your uncle’s music. I’d really like to interview you about why you play his songs.”
“We’ll talk about that later. I need to get back. We’re on stage at ten.”
She stared at him with a strange expression on her face.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“I’m really interested to hear what you have to say about your music, and his music.”
“Of course,” he agreed.
Anything to get her to stay with me. I have to keep her safe,
She was putting out strange vibes and for a moment, it was almost as though she knew what was going on. He held out his hand but she ignored it, and he shrugged.
“Come on, we’ll cut across the field behind the village. It’s the shortest way back to Worthy Farm.”
“The Worthy Farm? I thought the festival was at Pilton Farm?” Her eyes narrowed and for a moment he was unsure how to answer her.
“Yeah, you’re right. Got my farms mixed up. Come on, I’ll miss the set.” He turned away from her, willing her silently to follow him, but not game to turn around and check that she was. David turned and strode ahead, and was relieved when she caught up to him. He had less than an hour to get back, get her safely ensconced on the side of the stage where he was not going to take his eyes off her. Then he’d figure out what to tell her about going back through the gate.
Thank God it was only a short set this morning.
Chapter Eleven
Megan hurried to keep up with David when he came to a turnstile in the fence. He stepped back and waited for her to climb through first.
“Thank you.” She nodded. Her thoughts were still whirling around. Even though she’d been angry at him for trying to boss her around, she had been relieved to see him when he’d appeared behind her on the way to the cottage. Her mind was still foggy, as though it was full of cotton wool, and she wasn’t sure what was real or what she was dreaming.
When she’d picked up the paper in the village store, she’d recognized it straightaway. It was the same article she’d been reading on her laptop on the plane and now she intended to read it again as soon as she got back to the cottage. Did the strange woman in the shop really say it was 1971 or had she imagined that? Did she really go into the village shop or was that a dream? Did everyone really look and act as though it was the seventies?
Are they all crazy or am I?
As they walked along the field, a bright and shiny red Mustang roared along the road at the edge of the field. The traffic was building as the festival got going. Megan stopped and put her hands on her hips as three VW Kombi vans trundled past, their engines revving as they drove up the slight hill.
Everything was confirming her suspicions. Truth was, she’d been terrified to go back to the cottage by herself. Not knowing what she was going to find there.
It was bizarre. The more she thought about it, the more everything pointed to her being in a different time, in the same place.
The clothes, the music, the small crowd at the festival and the way they were behaving. The different woman in the shop today and that newspaper headline. The clothes they were wearing. It was all so…so seventies.
Either she was dreaming or she’d taken leave of her senses. Maybe she’d had a breakdown because of the news about her job. Add in some jet lag and who knows…? A cold prickly feeling crept up her chest and her breath caught. She stopped and put her hand to her head as it all overwhelmed her.
Where the hell did David fit into the whole mess? Until she knew, she wasn’t going to say anything to him. Because if she was right, he wasn’t David. He was Davy Morgan.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was kind and a shiver ran down her back at the same time warmth pooled between her thighs. She wasn’t used to a guy worrying about her…but it was…sort of okay. Despite the confusion of her thoughts, her body pulled toward him, craving physical closeness. She fought the desire to lean into him and let him hold her.
“Nothing.” She held her hand to her head. “I have a slight headache. I need to sleep, and eat something.”
He reached up and gently pushed her hair back from her face. She couldn’t help turning into his hand. “I did get some sleep after you left, but it was a pretty exhausting way we spent the night.” Her heartbeat increased as she remembered the feel of him moving inside her. It had been the most amazing sexual experience of her life.
“You’re all flushed. I’ll get you some food and something cold to drink while we play and then I’ll get you back home as soon as we’re finished. It’s a really short set. We’re just introducing—” He broke off and didn’t finish the sentence.
“Introducing who, David?”
He looked away across the field and wouldn’t meet her eye.
“Just a new band. You’ll see.”
The crowd had gotten even bigger in the time she’d been in the village and a line of Kombi vans were parked along the narrow lane beside the fence.
Megan looked up at David, deciding to fish a little bit without giving away her suspicions. “There are a lot of old VWs here.”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a free festival and a lot of people who can’t afford the big gigs come down from the city in their beat-up old cars.” He didn’t sound convincing and she pushed on with her questions.
“So how come the old cars are so bright and shiny?” Then she realized what he’d said.
“What do you mean a free festival? I had to pay a heap for my three-day ticket.”
“Errr…I must have misunderstood. I assumed it was free.” He wouldn’t meet her eye and Megan knew he was lying. “I’m only a simple musician. I’m not sure what’s going on. Come on, the guys are going to be worried.” The more that was said, the more her certainty grew that somehow she was at the 1971 festival. She shook her head. Now she was thinking crazy thoughts too.
Maybe that soup had had something in it?
He grabbed her hand and dragged her through the crowd. Warmth shot up her arm and she resisted the urge to curl her fingers in his. She had no idea what was going on, who he really was, or when she was.
Bloody hell, I can’t concentrate.
David Morgan was a mass of contradictions. The man who was pulling her along behind him and expressing such concern for her well-being was poles apart from the rude guy who’d greeted her the other night, and very different again from the man who had taken her to heaven and back again last night. Even thinking about it made her wet. Now he was looking after her. Taking a breath and shaking her head, she tried to clear it and stay focused on the present.
Whenever that was.
“So why is everyone dressed in seventies clothes?”
“I don’t know, Megan. Like I said, I’m just a musician. I’m not the fount of all knowledge about the festival. You’re the sociologist.”
“Don’t worry. I intend to find out everything I can. Trust me. I am very interested in what’s happening around me.” She pulled her hand from his as he stopped at the back of the pyramid stage. A set of stairs led to the stage about ten feet above them and David stood back and gestured for her to climb up. She hesitated.
“Come on, I don’t want to lose you again.” He put his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the first step, and her skin burned where his fingers gripped her firmly.
“You can sit on the side of the stage and you’ll have the best seat in the house.” He stood in front of her and his eyes were level with hers. His face was so close, his breath fanned her hot cheeks and she looked down as she felt it stirring along her skin. She didn’t move, and continued to watch him. And wait.
Will I never learn? Focus.
Finally, she turned away and grabbed the rope that ran up each side of the stairs, conscious of him close behind her.
“Thank God, man.” The two men she’d met at the pub yesterday, his band members, Bear and Slim, stood at the edge of the suspended wooden platform. As she looked up at them, she remembered how she knew their names. Bear and Slim were the nicknames of the two guys in Davy Morgan’s band. She’d read it in that article on her laptop. On the CDs she’d listened to for years, they were credited under their real names, but it was only yesterday in that article about a scandal involving Davy that she’d read their nicknames
Holy shit. It is 1971. How the hell had that happened? She racked her brain, reliving every moment of the past few hours. It had all turned crazy after she’d woken up in the first aid tent. After she’d followed David through the field.
And I’d touched that stone. That was it.
“We thought you weren’t going to get back in time,” Bear said as he nodded at Megan. “Found her okay, I see?”
David nodded without speaking as he slid a small wooden chair behind the brown hessian covering that was hanging at the side of the stage. When he had pushed it into the shadows, he turned to her and once again his strong fingers gripped her waist as he lifted her and put her in the chair. Megan sat and watched, bemused as he turned to Slim and finally spoke.
“Have you got anything to drink? Any food?”
From behind Bear’s drums, Slim retrieved a backpack and dug inside and pulled out a glass bottle.
David frowned as his fingers circled the neck of the narrow glass bottle and passed it to Megan. “At lease Coke will give you some energy.”
She took the cold glass bottle from him, holding it up in front of her.
“Hmm, one of those retro Coke bottles?” She watched as the two men exchanged a glance.
“Yeah, a retro bottle.”
Ha! Sure it is.
The floor creaked as another man jumped up from the top step onto the stage.
“No groupies allowed up here, Davy.” The older guy was dressed in a business suit and he pointed across at Megan.
“No problem. She’s my girlfriend, and she wasn’t feeling well. I want to keep an eye on her while we do our set.” David reached for his guitar and slung the strap over his shoulder.
“Fair enough.” After flickering a disinterested glance at Megan, he went to the edge of the stage. “Fabulous crowd. A lot more than we’d hoped for. The first festival was an impromptu one but we’ve trebled the crowd this year.
“Ready? It’s only a minute till you’re on.” The guy looked at his watch. “Where’s Holly?”
David shook his head, “Haven’t seen her since she was asleep in the tent. Maybe she’s still down there.” Megan was surprised to see a flash of fear cross his face, and she narrowed her eyes.
Who’s Holly? A girlfriend?
“Slim, is she okay? Can you go down and check on her?”
“You haven’t got time. I’ll go down and look for her while you’re playing. Okay?” The man shot David a sympathetic look and Megan wondered what was going on.
“Thanks, Brian.”
David stepped to the front, but seemed to stay back far enough to keep Megan in his line of sight. Slim walked across and flicked the switches on two large amplifiers next to the speakers and a loud buzz filled the stage. A roar came up from the crowd below and then it hushed with anticipation. Bear slid in behind the drums on the slightly raised platform in the center of the large stage and grinned at Megan as he stretched and raised his arms above his head.
The energy on the stage was palpable as Brian walked past David to the front of the stage.
Megan’s head spun with excitement as the hum from the amplifiers surrounded her, and she lifted the cool glass bottle and held it against her cheek, conscious of David’s gaze fixed on her even as his fingers slid gracefully along the neck of the guitar. A shiver ran down her back and it was more from the intense expression on his face than the cold glass against her skin.
“Music lovers of Glastonbury 1971, let’s enjoy Davy Morgan and his band.” The voice of the announcer boomed over the microphone followed by a loud drumming as Bear crashed his drumsticks down. Then there was silence.
Megan closed her eyes as a roar came from the crowd below and the plaintive notes of one of her favorite Davy Morgan songs hung in the air.
He said 1971. Nineteen seventy-one. Fuck.
Either she was dreaming or crazy, or something in this place had taken her back in time. If this was 1971, then David really was Davy Morgan. It was too much to take in. She closed her eyes and let the music fill her—she’d worry later and figure out what to do. In the meantime, she would make the most of wherever—or whenever—she was.
The beat of the music hollowed out and Davy started to sing.
Because it was Davy Morgan’s voice. The voice she’d listened to for so long.
The lyrics were filled with sadness and longing and Megan kept her eyes tightly closed and sang the words, her lips moving slowly in time with the beat and the long-held notes.
My love is for you
Time doesn’t matter
It holds no meaning.
The chorus began and the crowd joined in and the mass of voices rose from below.
Free as a bird to come and leave on the air
Through time, through time.
The words she knew so well had a completely new meaning for her now. Megan kept her eyes squeezed shut. She didn’t open them because she knew David’s gaze was still on her. The feeling warmed her skin as if he’d placed his fingers on her. She knew he watched her as he sang. She held her breath as the music built to a final crescendo, and the long, lonely guitar riff that heralded the last verse filled her ears. The music flowed through her skin, filled her mind and her soul. Her limbs were weightless and she imagined she was flying like the bird in Davy’s song. It was the same feeling she’d experienced last night when Davy had lain with her at the side of the small brook.
For fifteen minutes, she sat with her head back and her eyes closed, as the music swirled around her. Warmth flowed through her and the same sexual excitement that had ripped through her nerve endings last night gripped her once again. Opening her eyes, she lifted her gaze to Davy and the sexual energy crackled between them. His dark brooding eyes were fixed on her and she knew he felt the same desire she did. Her lips parted softly and she ran her hands slowly up her arms as she held his gaze.
…
As soon as the first word had left his lips, and Megan had closed her eyes, David was enthralled. The synergy of the band flowed and completed the circle they always strove for, but this time, Megan was a part of it. She leaned back in the chair with her eyes closed and when her mouth moved with the song, all David could think of was the feel of her lips beneath his.
As the blood surged to his groin and his cock swelled with wanting her, he was grateful for the long loose shirt that hung over his jeans, because the whole world would have s
een what he was feeling.
Music always filled him with desire and restlessness, but he’d never before experienced this connection with a woman. God, there’d been plenty of girls available whenever he’d needed to sate himself after performing—even back in the early days when he had played the pubs by himself. Emma had been pissed off, but he’d made no commitment to her. It was what she’d wanted, not him. Over the years, the excitement of hooking up with different girls had paled, and it had bored him. There had been no feeling in it. For him, it was a quick coupling to assuage a basic need; for the girls it was simply the opportunity to say they’d slept with Davy Morgan. And when they found out where he lived, they wouldn’t leave him alone. That’s why finding the cottage next door to Alice had been a godsend.
David played without being conscious of the notes that came from his guitar and the words that fell from his lips. He thought back over the events that had led to his living in two times. Right up until yesterday when Megan had followed him through the time slip, he’d kidded himself that he had it all thought out and had been confident he could make music in one time and live privately in another. He knew the risk of changing anything in the past. Writing and playing his music were no threat, he rationalized to himself, but now another person was involved and it had become fraught with danger.
When the drums crashed loudly and Slim used the pedal to wind down the last sad notes of the final song of their set, Megan was staring at him and his world came crashing down as he fell into her eyes.
Those beautiful eyes. The hunger in them echoes how I feel. How the hell am I going to keep my hands off her?
Oblivious to the screams of the crowd and the others on the stage around them, he slid his guitar from his shoulder and walked over to her.
I can’t. Relief flooded through him as he let his need take over.
He held out his hand without breaking their gaze and her hand gripped his as he pulled her from the chair. Her body was soft against his, her breasts molded by the thin T-shirt she wore. Her arms went around his neck and he lowered his lips and claimed her mouth.
It didn’t matter where he was, he’d found where he wanted to be.