“Yeah,” she said, shivering again, despite the warmth of their room. “That’s what’s beginning to worry me.”
“What d’ya mean?” He wrapped his arms back around her, pulling her close.
“Well, I’ve been reading books on Past Life theories. Imaginary or not, it was having a profound effect on me, and I wanted to understand it better. Those authors make a strong case for it to be real.”
“And... ?”
“Well, the mantra is groups of souls tend to travel together through time, not always in the same rolls. Be a bad guy in one and a good guy in another. You can even change sexes in different lives. But souls tend to do it as a group… sort of a team.”
“But we’ve been the same… two people in love.”
“Yes. The belief is that you come back to fix things that didn’t work out the last time. Or sometimes pay penance for things you did wrong. And some souls are forever linked by love.”
“Like us!” He kissed her nose. “So, you think we’re together now to try to make up for… ”
“…having our love and lives cut so short. Twice,” she finished for him.
“That sounds great. So what’s the problem?”
“Maybe I’m being paranoid, but there were other souls involved with us in those past lives, weren’t there? Very dangerous souls.”
“Our killer! Or killers, if it were a plot. You mean they might be coming after us again?”
“Exactly.” She was trembling. “And there were two of them. I saw it when I went back again with Dr. Caslow. I think they were the same souls both times, too. One wore a horrible battle mask of some sort. It seemed so familiar.”
She burrowed closer to him… lean, hard and strong… as if seeking protection from some nearby danger. He stroked her coppery tresses and caressed her back, offering security.
“Jesus! But, won’t they have to be regressed, too, to know us. How likely is that?”
“Who knows? They may not have to know about their past lives to find a reason to hate us now.”
“Hate us? Who would possibly… ?”
“Try Keith and Toni, for starters,” she said, turning to study his face.
“Shit, you’re right. And her brother, Bradley, who said he’d ‘get’ me. She could manipulate him into anything, maybe even murder.”
“And Keith’s brother, Larry, who blames us for everything. Keith’s been supporting him from my trusts.”
“So, it’s one or more of them… ”
“Or maybe someone else we haven’t even thought of.” She shivered again, despite his warmth. He pulled the blanket up around their necks.
“Or no one at all,” Craig said. “Maybe the murdering bastards missed this life all together. That’s possible, isn’t it?”
“I suppose, but I guess we oughta be careful for a while. Still, we can’t let the past, however frightening, dictate to us now. Can’t live our lives looking over our shoulders, can we?”
“No way! Loving you is… well, this is the happiest I’ve been since… since I don’t know when.”
“How about 1845?” Her soft smile brought a happy chuckle.
“Right. And I don’t want to waste another moment now.” He kissed her neck and ears, his hand trailing sensuously down her back.
“Oh, Craig.” She was already breathless, as she turned to offer herself to his tantalizing touch. Her hands slid through his hair and around his ears, while his lips and tongue ventured in a sinuous, erotic path over her neck, across her flaming breasts, moving lower, ever lower. Quivering with restrained tension, hovering already on the verge of delicious eruption, she tasted the sweet smell of uncut grass, the moist earth pressing against her back.
“Oh, Charles! Mon Cheri.” She slit her eyes cautiously, on the edge of panic, searching the dark corners of the room for danger. Nothing moved, no threatening monsters there, no terrible death lurking. Held breath escaped in a soft sigh, only to be sucked in again as he entered her.
This was a different kind of tension, a wondrous flood of heat, snatching her to the brink of ecstasy.
“Ayy, Charles! Ahh, Robert! Oh, Craig… my darling Craig.” She spun away in the wonders of orgasm, knowing she was safe.
Safe at last. At least for one glorious moment.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
Bruce Feldman lay on the chaise in his den, the soft background music and the gentle tones of his own voice drawing him back to the Twenty-First Century. He’d reentered that chilling past, resolutely determined to make at least one more stab at finding the truth, no matter how condemning.
He had been a part of two gristly murders, either as perpetrator or witness. He needed to learn which, and discover, if possible, the identity if his companion, then and now.
He reluctantly revisited that vision, the two of them crouched behind willow thickets, watching the Countess and the Earl, tangled together in the meadow. He seemed eager to challenge them. A mailed glove dropped on his shoulder, squeezing softly.
“Reggie, stay yourself. We must see the fullness of their infidelity before we act. To have the whole memory to feast upon.”
His companion hunkered next to him on the fringe of the thicket, streaks of sunlight shimmering on chain-mail armor and fierce, horned battle mask.
“Now we make them pay, Reggie. Now.” The glittering apparition darted into the meadow, fast closing on the two immoral cheats, still writhing with ecstasy on the ground.
What’s that… swinging? A chain, and… Oh my God! No! No!
Too late!
Burnished metal flashed in the Sun. There was a scream and a thud. The shiny armor was splattered with red. He looked down, aghast. He too was showered with gore.
“Mon Dieu. No! No!” That rich voice snuffed out by another shattering blow.
“Stop! For God sakes, stop,” the man he had been 300 years before cried out. He sensed his shame and anger.
“I never bargained fer this,” he shouted.
“Then step aside and let me do a man’s work.”
The echo of crunching bones and the splat of rendered flesh continued, until finally there was silence. He had fought… then and now… to hold down his gorge.
“Tis done, no thanks to ye.”
Filled with rage, Feldman, the observer from another time, fought to retain a separation, hoping to discover that which he sought.
That voice. He lay on the couch, eyes blinking. Do I know that voice?
“How could ye do this?” he had blurted. “See ‘im punished fer adultery. Bring charges agin ‘im. But not this!”
“Shut thy mouth, my frail varlet, or I’ll have thy tongue. ‘Tis what needed doing. That craven bastard‘ll never cuckold his lady again.”
Feldman had finally seen the other clearly through Reggie’s eyes.
Could that be… ? I never would have thought…
The face was subtly different, the physique unrecognizable under the armor. But the voice! Didn’t he knew that voice, despite the old English accent? If only he could be sure.
The memory wavered, fading, and his higher self was sucked into a shadowy tunnel, hurtling back to the present. A few moments later, he mentally stumbled into wakefulness. His eyes slit open, warily scanning the room for danger. He was sprawled on the couch in his den, exactly where he’d begun this voyage.
He struggled up, sitting with his face in his hands, elbows braced against knees.
We are reborn, time and again. Somehow chance, or the workings of higher souls (Masters, they were called in what he had read) had brought him to the two people with whom he’d shared two long-ago lives… and deaths.
And today he may have recognized a third. He visited his own memories now, no longer shackled to Ashley’s or Craig’s. What had brought them to that terrible moment in time? Reluctantly, he would go back, time and again if necessary, to discover all that had happened, before and after those brutal moments. And unmask the real perpetrator.
He stretched, flexing cramped sho
ulders, and groaned softly. At least it wasn’t he committing these atrocities. The anger filling him with a raging blindness was not aimed at these two lovers, but at their murderer for this unwarranted act of savagery.
And what about 1845 and Morgana Quincy and Robert Isaac? Was it the four of them again? Probably so, but he had to know for sure.
He would visit there tomorrow. He was actually looking forward to it, expecting again to find he wasn’t the one delivering those murderous blows.
But, he knew one thing now, without doubt.
Ashley and Craig were in danger.
Deadly, brutal danger!
CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
“Easy, buddy.” Ashley shortened her lead on Injun, as he pranced with mincing little steps at her side. The big roan butted her playfully with his head and nipped at her pocket, searching for the apple.
“Hey, you don’t get that until you’re loaded.” Two horses were still in front of them, awaiting their turn to enter the big, blue commercial van. The specially designed semi-trailer was built with an eight-foot wide door in the center of one side that lowered as a cleated ramp. The inside was divided into narrow mini-stalls just wide enough to comfortably accept a horse, cross-tethered to hold him in place.
The confined space gave the animals support and balance while on the road, and the wood floor was heavily strewn with new straw. Eager as she was to leave, she wasn’t going anywhere until Injun was properly secured for the trip home. Then he would get his apple.
He deserved it.
They had destroyed the field at this show, which had included two Olympic hopefuls, winning the Open Divisions on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and going Champion of the Show. The three of them were certainly ready for Grand Prix competition; she, Injun… and Victoria du Chevalier!
The French countess filled her head at every competition, taking control, managing the course with a fearless expertise. What a rider Ashley had been, 300 years ago! She embraced what had at first caused such fear and panic, followed by confusion, then wonder… and now a joyous transformation.
Understanding the reality of those past lives… the abandon of Victoria; the intense passion of Morgana… had largely freed Ashley of the stifling terror plaguing her for so long.
Small flashes of panic, bred by those ancient histories, lingered in the shadows, but with Rachel Caslow’s guiding angel metaphorically on her shoulder, she was learning to manage it. It was easier each time Craig and she made love, and that was happening with wondrous frequency these last three nights. A thirst, hundreds of years old, is not easily slaked.
“Aren’t they ready for him yet?” Craig’s arm fell lightly across her shoulders, drawing her close with a tender possessiveness. She trembled, catching her breath, as moist petals of her newly discovered flower opened eagerly. Luckily, her clothes, and especially her pants, were drenched and stained with sweat. No one would notice the new, damp circle growing there.
“Cold?” he asked.
“Hardly.” She turned to him, stroking his cheek, her gray eyes fastened on his.
“Oh, I see. luckily, I’ve arranged a late check-out at the hotel.”
“How wonderful. We can hardly wait.”
“We?”
“Victoria and Morgana will be there, too. How can I deny them your love after so many centuries of longing?”
“Sounds exciting. Most every guy dreams of making it with two gorgeous women at once, and I’m getting three.”
“You can always invite Charles and Robert to join you.”
“Can’t seem to summon them up like you do. But, that’s okay. I think I can handle it myself.”
He chuckled, holding her tightly and kissing her forehead, inhaling the delightfully combined smell of hay, fresh perspiration and her perfume.
“Lilies.” He buried his face in her hair.
“What?”
“Your fragrance. Lilies. It’s how you smelled… before.”
“Oh… yes. I think it was Victoria’s favorite.”
“And Morgana’s?”
“I think so.” She smiled softly.
“And mine. Definitely mine.” He kissed her eyes.
“Ah-hum.” They looked at the trailer.
“We’re ready fa yer horse, missy.” A large black man in a worn leather vest and scuffed boot stood on the ramp, picking his teeth with a straw.
“Okay, Charlie, he’s all yours. I’ll come in and check he’s all right once he’s hooked up. I still owe him an apple, and he knows it.”
“Not a problem,” he said, taking the halter rope and leading the red gelding up the hay covered wooden ramp.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
Ashley slid onto the wooden bench, taking Craig’s hand, and resting her head on his shoulder. She had never been more at peace, even during her happiest moments with Keith. This was her destiny… a 300 year old promise… and the third time was going to be the charm.
They sat silently, gazing over the pastoral setting, the sweeping canvas of the World’s greatest artist. The ordered pattern of white fences, artificial walls and broad jumps in the show ring. Several horses and two new-born colts capered in the cross-fenced field behind.
The sinking afternoon sun glittered off the brightly painted barn, casting broad, intricate shadows across the landscape. Two huge maples shielded them from the unseasonable heat of the late spring day. They lolled together, absorbing the miracle of the other’s presence.
“This is weird,” he said. “Wonderful, but weird.”
“What is?”
“Being with you. All three of you, actually. You know, with all the memories from before. It’s so… I don’t know. I can’t really explain it.”
“But good, huh?”
“No, not good. Fantastic, unbelievable, indescribable.” He caught her chin in his hand, tilting her face, kissing her gently.
“I love you beyond words. All these years of searching, not even knowing what I was looking for. How did I ever end up with Toni?”
“And me with Keith. I can’t imagine why I was so drawn to him.”
“Think maybe they’re from the past, too?”
She nodded. “I guess it’s possible.”
“Hmm. Bad marriages. I wonder if we’re somehow fated to have bad marriages before we’re allowed to find each other.”
“I don’t know. Maybe we are required to overcome some obstacles first. But, if you can accept the stuff I’ve read, we may be destined to come back together, but what we do here is not controlled by some greater power.”
“Like God?” he asked.
“Whatever. They call them Masters. But the point is, they don’t control us down here. Even finding each other is up to us. We could spend a lifetime looking with no success.
“Yeah? Well, thank God… or the Masters… that didn’t happen this time. Finally, we’ll get everything we’ve been cheated of in the past.”
“Yes. Finally. I just hope… ”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“C’mon,” he said. “You were going to say something. What?”
“What if… ”
“Yes? What if… ?”
“… he’s here now, too.”
“Who?”
“Whoever killed us… before.” She searched his eyes, hers welling with tears.
“Oh, Ashley.” He pulled her close, kissing the wet gray pools.
“This is a different time. Even if he were here, he still may not know us. Anyway, we won’t get surprised this time. Nothing’s going to get in the way of our happiness. Nothing.”
”I know.” She snuggled closer to him, feeling safe. “I’ll probably still worry… but not when we’re together. I promise.”
“Okay. And by the way, our late check-out room is awaiting.”
“Yay!” She stood, pulling him up into her arms. Their kiss was intense. Her legs wobbled, her head filled with French exclamations.
“We have a better place to do this,” nuzzli
ng her ear.
“I can hardly wait.” She took his hand as they started toward his parked Jaguar.
“Should we stay the night? Maria can care for my children. I can call her, if it’s okay with you.”
“Better than okay. It’s never easy to tear myself away from you.”
“Me too.” She grinned, her arm circling his waist, holding him close. They’ll be together for many nights, once their divorces were final… hundreds of nights, thousands of them. Hell, they were still young. Tens of thousands.
Every night, once they were finally free from their cheating spouses. And surely there was no danger. How foolish to worry.
Still, those other two times… but this was now, with no real reason for concern. Still, …
~~*~~*~~*~~
Look at them! So cocky, so brazen, kissing and pawing, out in the open.
Narrowed eyes, hidden behind amber-lensed sunglasses, watched the lovers stroll toward the parking lot. They looked so damned happy.
Happy over the ruins of others’ lives.
They think they have everything. Things rightfully mine. But, I’m going to set it straight. And I’ve got the perfect thing for that.
How lucky!
CHAPTER NINETY
“No answer?” she asked.
“Nope. Just the service. Says he’s away for a week, maybe two.”
“Damn. I wanted to know why he was screwing us around like that.” She flopped on the leather sofa, and patted the spot next to her.
“Oh, c’mon Ashley. You said yourself that he had ethical considerations over what he could say. I’ve known Bruce Feldman a long time. He wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt us.” He perched beside her.
“I guess. But, I still wonder why he seemed so shook up after my regressions. There seemed more to it than just surprise.”
“Yeah, that is strange. You said he looked… what was the word… ?”
“Apprehensive. Scared, maybe. I was too terrorized to notice, but thinking back, he was in a real sweat, his eyes kind of glazed. He looked numb.”
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