Lightning flashed, brightening the yard. Thunder rattled the windows. Dark shadows danced with each gusting breeze, sending tree limbs swaying and distorting her view. The spring pattern of sunny days and stormy evenings lent itself to the eerie sense of trepidation looming in the dark of night. Becci shivered and rubbed her arms.
In the distance a man paced in and out of sight inside the shed.
Caleb. She would recognize him anywhere.
Becci slowly tapped her fist on the table. Please come, she pleaded silently. When he didn’t appear, she expelled a weary sigh and walked slowly back to the living room.
Another shiver swept through her as tears glazed her eyes. Dropping into the overstuffed recliner, she accepted that Caleb wouldn’t be coming. She’d been too forward with him, too ready to let him take her to bed. Too ready to let him be her knight in shining armor.
She should have taken the hint when he backed off. He didn’t want her.
Raking her fingers through her hair, she divided it into three parts, braided it for the night, and tied it loosely with a scrunchy she’d left on the small end table. Then she picked up one of the journals that had been left beside the chair and fluttered the corner of the book before opening it to the marked section.
Caleb is bringing the dresser. I must persuade him to make me his wife. Not for me, but for Luke. He loves Luke as if he were his own. Caleb does not love me, but he will never find his true love in this time so our families must be joined or our race will be doomed. At least I have finally gained his trust. I have returned the key to Caleb. Now it’s time to return the title that goes with the key, the title of keeper.
My heart aches as it never has before because I know Saul and I are partially to blame for Caleb’s pain. Our promise will keep him from traveling to his true love, whoever she might be. Until we met Caleb, we never realized the consequences he would suffer because of Obadiah’s actions.
Becci closed the book and flicked off the lamp. Travel to find his true love? Could what she heard when she tried on Rebecca’s dress really be Rebecca’s words instead of some hallucination? She knew that whether or not it had really been Rebecca speaking, what she’d heard was the truth. She, Becci, would lose Caleb because of his promise to her namesake.
Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she swiped at them impatiently.
“Enough of this wallowing in self-pity,” she grumbled, shoving out of the chair. She might as well get some sleep. Try to get some sleep, she amended.
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.
“Wha
t 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 Jacobs’ 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 to 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.
Keeper of the Key Page 24