"Well," she said finally, "I guess we should get going."
"Yeah," he said, but he couldn't help smiling. He felt suddenly as if he'd been given a second chance in life, a chance to redeem his lost soul by saving her. "Let's go."
Lainie sat as stiffly as she possibly could on the moving horse, her body angled away from Killian's. She was terrified to actually touch him. She wasn't sure why she was so scared; common sense told her it was a ridiculous, baseless fear, but still she felt it, as real as any fear she'd ever known. As crazy and impossible as it sounded, she felt as if there was almost nothing separating them, a barrier as clear and breakable as a piece of glass, and that if she reached out, moved beyond that invisible wall, there would be no going back.
For the past few hours, they'd ridden in silence, through the crisp, predawn darkness and into a blister-ingly hot summer day. And even though they hadn't spoken, the air felt heavy with unvoiced conversations and hidden emotions, like a full gray raincloud ready to burst.
She didn't want to talk to him; more important, she didn't want to listen. At first when she'd landed in this time period, Killian had been exactly what she'd ex-
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pected, the man she'd created from a blue screen and a keyboard. But now he was more ... so much more.
You're safe now.
The words kept coming back to her, irritatingly resilient, terrifyingly seductive. It was a promise no one had ever made to her before, and try as she might, she couldn't make it sound hollow or untruthful. He'd said it so quietly, so simply. She'd waited a lifetime to hear those words, and it seemed horribly unfair and twisted to hear them now, from a possibly fictional man who died one hundred years before she was born. And only days before she would leave him forever.
She tried earnestly not to believe in him or his promise, but she couldn't help herself. The simple words were the most provocative she could imagine, the most compelling thing a man could have said to her.
She stared at his back, broad and solid in front of her. The foamy blue fabric of his shirt was stretched taut across his shoulders, the seams tired and frayed. Sunlight caught in his long hair, turned the wavy strands to a curtain of steel that brushed his collar.
What would it feel like, she wondered, to simply lean forward and rest against his back, to let his silent strength be her shield? To just once, and perhaps to no one but herself, admit that she was scared and didn't want to be alone. To let herself be weak.
Without meaning to, she scooted a little forward. Her crotch slid up onto the thick leather skirt, her thighs came into contact with his legs.
She froze, barely breathing, waiting for him to make some humiliating comment.
She sat that way a long time, stiff and unmoving. The desert fanned out from them on all sides, an endless, searingly hot plain dotted with ocher spires and striated mesas. In the distance a hawk soared, its shadow a gliding feather against the bloodred rock wall. A filmy cloud crept past the sun, throwing a cool blanket across the heat for a split second, and then moving on.
He didn't say anything, didn't laugh or taunt or touch her. The heat from his legs created a curious sense of intimacy. Their booted feet dangled alongside each other's, like lovers' feet at the edge of a sun-warmed lake. She tried to ignore it, tried not to care how good it felt to be this close to him.
A shiver of longing moved through her. It was such a simple thing, a nothing little intimacy that most people took for granted as a normal part of life. But not Lainie. Intimacy had never been simple or expected or received. It was the carrot before the horse's nose that had directed so much of her life. The search for someone to care about, who would care about her in return. She'd sought it with an increasing despair until Kelly's birth. Then, thankfully, she'd found a love she'd never dreamed of, and so much of the cold darkness in her soul had been forgotten.
Or she'd thought it had been forgotten. Now, feeling his body against hers, knowing that she longed to rest her cheek against his back and slip her arms around his waist, she saw the bitter, frightening truth. It had never been forgotten; her little-girl dreams hadn't been completely buried. They'd simply lain dormant, waiting, waiting....
"You can lean on me, Lainie." Killian's deep voice brought her crashing out of her own thoughts.
She fought to regain her composure. "Wh-What?"
"You must be tired. Lean on me and go to sleep."
The longing came back, wrenched through her body so hard, she had to close her eyes against it. She wanted to lean on him. God help her, she wanted it.
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"Lean on me, Lainie," he said again, softer this time. "Go ahead."
Her resistance crumbled. Slowly, biting her lip, she leaned forward and pressed her cheek to his back. His shirt was soft against her skin and smelled of sunshine and dust and sweat. She exhaled evenly.
After a few moments, she felt herself begin to relax. The swaying, rocking-chair motion of the horse lulled her. The back of Killian's hat shaded her face, cast it in a cooling darkness that soothed her weary body.
She sat that way, pressed against him, for miles, until it was no longer enough. Suddenly she needed more. Gingerly, almost hoping he wouldn't notice, she curled her arms around his body and clasped her hands at his waist.
She tensed for a second, waiting for his response.
His big gloved hand settled atop hers. The sun-warmed leather of his glove coiled around her fingers and gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
It was the most tender touch she'd ever known.
Night fell across the desert slowly, turned their small campsite into a warm and welcoming enclave of flickering light. A heavy mist hung in the dark air, heralding a coming rain.
Cottonwood trees curled protectively around the little site and kept the moist breezes at bay. Beyond the trees lay a thin stream that fed into a glassy, starlit pond. The moon was the barest of crescents, no more than a blue-white parenthesis against the jet black sky.
Lainie sat huddled alongside the fire, her legs drawn tight to her chest, her chin resting on one bent knee. The leftover scents of coffee, bacon, and biscuits lingered in the cool night air. Across the fire, Killian sat alongside the tent he'd erected a few moments ago.
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Firelight leapt and danced across his face and slid down the concave surface of the tent.
They hadn't spoken in more than an hour. They sat apart, in their own solitary worlds, gazing at the fire. It had been awkward at dinner. The quiet, repetitive scraping of tin forks on tin plates grated on Lainie's nerves, left her somehow hoping he would look up, would say something. But he hadn't.
His silence tore at her, even frightened her. She had this strange, inexplicable sensation that he was waiting for her to say something, for her to reach out to him.
It was ridiculous.
And yet, not so ridiculous.
Today as she'd pressed against him on the back of the horse, she'd felt a confusing jumble of emotions. At first she'd been tense and wary, waiting for him to ridicule or humiliate her. When he'd remained silent, and given her that incredibly gentle touch, she'd begun to relax. The pent-up breath released from her lungs, her eyes fluttered shut, and she'd felt the most unexpected, most exhilarating sense of peace she'd ever known. For a few precious hours, she'd felt safe.
The moment she realized it, the fear set in. She'd drawn back sharply, pulled her hands into her own lap, and stiffened.
"You okay?" he'd asked.
She'd heard so much in his voice, and it frightened her even more. It was as if, impossibly, he understood why she'd drawn back. As if it had hurt his feelings.
"Fine," was all she said, but there was a brittleness to her voice that betrayed every emotion he aroused in her. In that instant, sitting behind him, completely hidden from his penetrating gaze, she felt naked and totally exposed. And it scared her to death.
She couldn't imagine what he wanted from her. Time
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and again, she tried to convince herse
lf that his gentleness was all an act, a pretense to get her guard down so that he could take advantage of her.
But, God help her, she couldn't make herself believe it anymore. The more often she tried, the more thoroughly she failed.
She felt safe in his arms.
She squeezed her eyes shut at the terrifying realization. It washed through her like ice water, left her chilled and in need of warmth. It was all an illusion.
Or was it?
Remember Kelly, she told herself for the thousandth time, but even those words didn't warm her anymore, didn't give her the armor she needed to protect herself from Killian and the gentleness of his touch.
She stared at him across the fire. He was stretched out, with one leg bent, one arm dangling across his knee. His eyes were fixed on her, only her, and she felt suddenly as if he saw everything she tried so hard to hide: the shadowed secrets in her eyes, the fear and uncertainty and confusion in her heart. Of course he'd seen her shiver. A nothing, lightning-fast shudder, but he'd seen it ...
You're safe now.
The words seduced her again, stripped away her courage and left her weak and vulnerable. She stared into his eyes and tried to tell herself that he was lying, that he hadn't meant it, but she couldn't find a lie in his gaze. All she saw was caring and concern, and it made her remember his words again.
And that touch. It was nothing, she told herself. Just a meaningless press of one hand to another. But it had sparked so many unexpected responses in her, had made her snuggle close to him and feel the warmth of his body against her breasts.
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Heat sprang into her cheeks at the remembrance, her heartbeat sped up. The truth came at her hard, reminding her with humiliating clarity why she was suddenly so afraid of him. For an instant there, when she'd been holding him close, she'd felt a flash of honest-to-God desire. Not the ordinary willingness to have sex that she'd felt in the past, but something ... more.
She looked away quickly, unwilling to meet his gaze. The glistening surface of the pond caught her eye, reflected the starlight through the shadowy line of the trees. Brilliant, blue-white moonlight gave the area an ethereal, otherworldly glow. Water.
That's what she needed, she realized suddenly. The nineteenth-century equivalent of a cold shower. She needed to get away from him, submerge herself in cold water and cleanse the weakness from her soul. She lurched to her feet. "I'm going for a swim."
Before he could say a word, she raced across the campsite and through the trees. At the edge of the pond, she stopped and glanced back.
He was a shadow alongside the fire, his cigarette a bright red glow suspended in the darkness.
He hadn't followed her.
Lainie let out her breath in a relieved sigh and looked down at the pond. It was a pool-sized piece of glass studded with starlight. Moonlight edged it, curled around and above it, sliced through the shadowy canopy of trees.
She stripped quickly down to her panties and bra and touched her big toe to the water. It felt cool and welcoming after the heat of the day. Smiling, she walked into the water.
The pond was shallow, no more than six feet deep. She ducked under the surface and swam to the other side, where a ring of huge stones bordered the edge.
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Stretching her arms out along the rocks, she floated on the water, eyes closed.
Cool breezes skidded across her moist face and caressed her nipples. The water lapped gently against her thighs, tickled her toes. Overhead, the leaves chattered softly among themselves.
She focused on the pure physical pleasure of the moment, letting the fear seep from her mind.
Five days, she thought sleepily. Just five more days and she'd be at the Rock .. . and home.
She shouldn't have let Killian get to her. It was stupid. She merely had to remain strong for five days, and then this nightmare would be over.
"Over." She whispered the word, taking strength from it. She could survive five days with Killian. So what if he aroused some surprising emotions in her? She could fight that as long as she stayed alert, stayed away from him.
As long as she didn't touch him or let him touch her.
And how hard could that be? She had spent a lifetime not touching people. Certainly she could keep her distance from Killian for less than a week.
A small, satisfied smile curved her lips. She could do it. Sure, she could. All she had to do was stay away from him.
"I thought you might like some soap."
Killian's voice cut through the silence, brought her jerking upright. She immediately plunged beneath the surface and stared at him. "G-Get out of here."
He moved toward her. He was a tall, broad-shouldered shadow, backlit by the bluish light of the moon. His footsteps crunched toward her, slow and steady. At the edge of the water, he crouched down. She heard the cracking snap of his knees.
"Do you want some soap or not?"
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"Sure," she said, trying not to sound nervous, and failing miserably. "Leave it there."
"Give me your hand." The rich burr of his voice warmed her in spite of the coolness of the water.
Reluctantly she reached out. He took her hand, curled his warm, strong fingers around her slick, cold ones. At the contact, so unexpectedly hot against her wet flesh, she shivered and tried to draw back. He held her tightly. When she stopped fighting, he said, "Open your fingers."
She let her fingers relax. Her damp palm lay open in his.
She felt his gaze on her body, hot and pointed, slipping through the glassy shield of the water. Beneath the cold water, her body felt trembly and hot, her insides knotted.
He pressed a small, well-worn bar of soap in her hand. The unexpected scent of sandalwood lifted to her nostrils.
She immediately closed her fingers around the soap and yanked her arm back. It splashed in the water. "Th-Thanks," she managed, hating the breathy softness of her voice.
His knees creaked again as he got to his feet. Wordlessly he walked away from her. She heard each snapping crunch of his bootheels on the sandy dirt, and with each step he took, she felt a slowing of her heartbeat.
Then suddenly he stopped, and her heart lurched into her throat. She stared directly across the pond, trying to pierce the darkness. She could see his broad smile. "What are you doing?" she asked.
He wrenched off one boot. Then the other. "Taking a bath."
She gasped. "Oh, no, you're not."
He laughed, a rich, rumbling sound that slipped
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across the water and touched her as he started unbuttoning his jeans.
Lainie squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, God, oh, Jesus. This is it.. . .
He slipped into the water; she felt his entry as a gentle rippling of water against her skin.
She sat crouched in the water, tense and waiting, her heartbeat a thudding hammer in her chest. He said something. Her heart was beating so fast, she couldn't make out his words.
"What?"
She heard a rippling splash, and then nothing.
"Killian?"
He came up beside her, flipping his wet head back. Droplets sprayed her face. His naked chest, glistening with water, filled her gaze. She froze, her mouth gaped.
She edged away from him, her arms pinned across her breasts. "Wh-What are you doing?"
He glided toward her and took hold of her shoulders, gently turning her around. "I'm going to wash your hair."
"N-No, thanks."
He pulled the soap from her fingers and dipped it under the water. Letting go of her, he scrubbed the soap to create a foam, then started washing her hair.
At the touch, she stiffened. She wanted to pull away, knew it was the smart thing to do, but suddenly she couldn't move. She was paralyzed by the jumble of emotions his touch sparked.
She stood there, motionless, breathing hard, afraid to stay, unwilling to pull away. Foamy peaks of soap slid down the sides of her face and puddled on the surface of the water. His fingertips moved thro
ugh her hair, caressed her scalp, and kneaded the knots from the back of her neck.
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"I wish I could see your face right now," he said quietly.
A shudder of longing moved through Lainie at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to her before; it implied something she wasn't used to. As if she were the woman he wanted to be with right now, not simply a body in darkness.
Before she could fight against the words, they seeped past her armor and lodged in an area dangerously close to her heart. Water lapped against her breasts like feather-strokes, brought her nipples to a tender hardness. The first tingling throb of response pulsed between her legs.
God help her, she wanted to turn around and kiss him. She wanted to curl her arms around his neck and draw him close, to press up onto her toes and rub her body against his, feel the curling softness of his hair against her breasts.
It was just lust, she told herself. Just garden-variety lust.
He rinsed her hair and gently turned her around. She looked up at him, and suddenly she was thinking about kissing him, wondering what it would be like.
Just lust, she told herself again. Ordinary lust. It doesn 't mean a thing. Her hormones were out of whack; that was all.
She cleared her throat and tried to sound casual. "Th-Thanks. How 'bout if I make us some coffee now?"
"I think I have a taste for something else." His gravelly, rough-edged voice made her think of a thousand forbidden things. Hot, secret touches and sexy whispers.
She wanted to look away, but couldn't. "What?" The word cracked.
"I think you know."
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The look he gave her was so hot, so smoldering, she felt herself blush.
Almost what you'd expect of a soul mate.
She tried to shake off the ridiculous thought, but once it landed in her mind, it stuck firm.
Lean on me, Lainie. Go ahead.
You're safe now.
Every kindness he'd ever showed her came back now with stunning force, took on a new, impossible meaning. She shivered.
Was it possible? she wondered. Had they loved each other before, in a time and place that neither could recall? Was it possible that the faces and names had changed, but the souls had remained constant? Could hearts remember what minds could not?
The question caught fire and consumed her. She tried to fight it, tried to tell herself it was all a lot of mumbo-jumbo and didn't mean a thing, but the idea was seductive. She felt its power move through her, crumbling any resistance in its path.