Somewhere in Time (The Crosse Harbor Time Travel Trilogy) (28 page)

Casually she glanced about to see if Andrew were anywhere in sight. "You presume much, sir," she said coyly.
Where are you, Andrew?

The guard reached out and clasped his fingers around her wrist. "Give us a kiss," he said, pulling her down onto his lap.

Her skin crawled as he toyed with the laces on her bodice.
Think of Zane,
she ordered herself.
Anything is worth his life....
Even this.

She leaned over and retrieved the jug. "How ungenerous you are, sir. Fine Jamaican rum and you do not offer me a drop."

"There are better things to do than drink rum, lass." His fingers traced the swell of her breasts. "We can drink after."

What she wouldn't give for a scalding tub of water and a bar of lye soap. "You're a randy one," she noted, striving for lusty enthusiasm. "I hope you won't be in too much of a rush."

He threw back his head and laughed heartily. "You need not worry," he said, placing a hand on her thigh, "for there is plenty more to be had."

A slight motion caught her eye and to her relief she saw Andrew crouched at the corner of the building. He met her eyes and flashed the signal.

She made to stand up but the guard held her fast.

"Patience," she said, trying to get free. "I promise it will be worth your wait."

He leaned forward and she gasped as his hand slid under her skirts. His rough fingers snagged the fine cotton of her stockings. She could only imagine how they would feel against her skin. She struggled against him, praying he wouldn't find the pistol.

He groaned with pleasure. "You're a fine piece," he said. "Jack knows how to pleasure the women--" He stopped. "What the hell--?"

There was no time to think. If the guard took possession of Andrew's gun, it would all be over. Andrew was still several yards away. Emilie grabbed for the musket leaning against the bench and brought it down sharply on the back of the guard's neck.

He yelped in pain. "You bloody bitch!" He reared back and struck a blow to her cheek. She fell to the ground at his feet. "I'll teach you to--"

Andrew was on him like a mountain lion. Emilie, cheek throbbing with pain, lifted her skirts and retrieved the pistol. With trembling hands she aimed it at the guard as Andrew sent the man tumbling into unconsciousness.

"Thank God you showed up when you did," she said to Andrew as he threw the unconscious man to the ground.

"The keys," he snapped. "Hand them to me quickly."

She did as he asked, stomach twisting at the sour smell of the guard's flesh.

"Do not let him go," Andrew warned. "If he awakens, do what is necessary."

The next few minutes were the longest of her life. Voices emanated from inside the jail but none of them were Zane's. Beads of sweat trickled down her back. He had to be there.
But what if he's sick,
a small voice worried,
or injured.

"Just let him be alive," she whispered. They could handle any other eventuality together.

Two men stumbled from the jail, stiff-legged as if they hadn't walked in a long while.

Neither one was Zane.

Her mouth went dry with fear.
Dear God, please let him be in there. If he is, I'll never ask you for another thing....

A tall man with a head of red hair even brighter than hers staggered out.

She bit her lip as tears stung her eyelids.

And then she heard his voice, that low and thrilling voice that had first captivated her years ago and she felt as if someone had handed her future back to her, all golden and shining and wonderful.

"Emilie."

She turned around, unable to control the tears that fell freely down her cheeks. So tall, so strong--the one man she'd ever loved.

The only one.

Somehow she was in his arms. There was no other reality beyond the sight and sound and feel of him.

"I thought I'd lost you," she murmured against his lips.

"McVie told me what you did. If you ever try a stunt like that again, I'll--"

His words were lost in the kiss they shared, and when he broke the kiss she felt bereft.

"Emilie was right," he said as McVie approached. "There's a plot against Washington."

McVie looked puzzled. "I have talked to the others. They mention no such intrigue."

"They don't know about it," said Zane. "I found out about it at the whorehouse. They thought they'd knocked me out cold, but I heard every word they said." Sometime in the next ten days an attempt would be made on the General's life and it would be made at close range.

"Who is behind it?" asked McVie, still skeptical.

"Talmadge," said Zane. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

McVie paled visibly. "Talmadge is one of the General's closest advisors."

"We need to move fast," said Zane. "These guys mean business."

McVie called two of the other prisoners over. "Where is the General?"

"Long Island," said the man with the red hair.

"And Talmadge?"

"With the General," said the man.

McVie began barking orders at the assembled men. "Spread out into the countryside," he said. "Alert the others to the imminent danger."

"What about Washington?" asked Zane. "He has to be told."

"I am most familiar with the territory of Long Island," said McVie. "'Tis a dangerous trip and I have the least to lose." The other men had sweethearts and families. Andrew had nothing but regrets.

"I left the Blakelees' horse with a blacksmith at the edge of town," said Zane. Ten shillings and the man had been ready to adopt the roan. "Tell him Captain Rutledge granted his permission."

Emilie listened to the exchange with a growing sense of bewilderment. The trip to Long Island was everything Zane loved: long, difficult, and extremely dangerous. Yet there he was, literally handing the reins over to another man.

The guard began to stir and Andrew motioned for the other men to scatter.

"Wait until first light then return to the Blakelee farm," said Andrew. "I will see you there again."

"Take care, Andrew," said Emilie, "and come back safely."

He nodded. There was a world of sadness in his eyes and it tore at her heart that once again life had seen fit to deny him the happiness he deserved.

"Mark me well, Rutledge," he said, meeting Zane's eyes with fierce determination. "I would fight you if I believed there was a chance of victory."

With that McVie vanished into the darkness, leaving Emilie and Zane alone.

Chapter Fourteen

For the second time in as many days, Zane found himself a prisoner. This time, however, it was not the British Army who held him captive; it was Emilie.

The woman he loved.

All around them the members of the spy ring were vanishing into the night. Their movements barely registered on Zane. There was only Emilie. Once again he was struck by her beauty, but this time he saw her soul, as well.

A bruise, purple and angry, was blossoming along her temple near her hairline, and a murderous rage filled him as her gaze strayed toward the guard slumped on the ground by the door.

"Don't," she said, reading his mind. "It doesn't matter."

Gently he cupped her chin and tilted her face until it was bathed in moonlight.

"Why the hell did McVie let you pull a stunt like this?"

"He couldn't stop me," she said, cradling his face in her hands. "I had to find you."

She had risked her life to save his. The enormity of what she'd done hit him full force in the middle of the chest. There was so much to say, so many things to tell her, and no time to say any of it.

The guard was coming to and they had to escape.

"We're near the cave," Zane said, grabbing Emilie's hand. "Come on."

Swiftly they blended into the forest, away from the revealing moonlight. Zane cleared his mind of everything but the location of the cave where they'd spent the night many weeks ago. A small stream, a stand of towering pine trees, and a fifteen degree slope to the land, give or take a degree or two. It wasn't much to go on, but he'd worked with less before.

Faint shafts of moonlight penetrated the canopy of trees, casting an eerie glow. From somewhere an owl hooted and it seemed as if the smell of pine was all around. He let instinct and memory guide him and, to his amazement, Emilie never hesitated.

She was with him every step of the way, his partner, his soul.

His wife.

"Over there," he said, pointing to an outcropping of rocks to their right.

"Your memory is amazing," Emilie said as they found shelter inside the velvety darkness of the cave.

"I remember a lot of things, Em." He drew her into his arms. "Everything about you." The little freckle on her left shoulder. The sound of her delighted laughter when he kissed her unexpectedly. Her strength and goodness and absolute certainty that happiness was theirs for the taking.

She rested her head against his shoulder. He could feel her heart thundering inside her chest, its wild pulse beat matching his own.

"You were wonderful," she whispered, her lips brushing the side of his throat. "Brave and selfless. I was so proud of you."

"You sound surprised."

She chuckled softly. "I was."

"I don't think anyone's ever been proud of me before."

"How does it feel?"

"Good." He found her mouth with his. "But not as good as this."

Once again their kisses held another dimension, a sweetness that transcended the purely sexual. He felt as if he'd been living behind a wall of glass and now that glass was shattering before the force of something greater--and more dangerous--than he'd ever imagined.

"It's so dark in here," she said, laughing softly. "I can't see your face."

"I can see yours," he said.

"That's impossible."

He traced the contours of her chin, her mouth, her cheekbones with his fingertips. She was part of him, burned into his heart, half of his soul. "I know every inch of you."

A voluptuous shiver rose up from the center of her being. There was nothing beyond this moment. No one except this man. Everything that had come before, every dream, every fantasy, all of the endless days and nights of wanting something that danced just beyond reach--all of it vanished before the feeling of destiny that held them in its embrace.

He used their clothes to cushion the ground where they lay together, limbs tangled, hearts beating wildly. There was no hesitation. There were no missteps. They moved together as if they had spent their lives waiting for this night.

She gloried in his strength. He took comfort from her softness. The act of love became a sacrament.

This was the secret that had always eluded him, the secret that was at the heart of a marriage, at the center of life.

"All those years," he murmured against the curve of her breast. "All that time wasted...."

"We're together now." She arched against him, all softness and strength. "That's all that matters."

"This is forever," he said, moving slowly inside her. "Nothing can tear us apart."

"Don't say that." She kissed his mouth as if to erase his words.

His laugh rumbled against her lips. "Don't tell me you're superstitious."

"Why tempt fate," she said. "We have so much. If I lost you I would die."

"To hell with fate," said Zane fiercely. "This is forever."

#

It was a night of wonder, of promises made and pledges given.

"We're getting married again," Zane said, holding her close to his heart as dawn broke beyond the cave.

"How on earth will we explain that to the Blakelees?" she asked, listening to his heart beating beneath her ear. "They'll be scandalized."