She couldn’t believe what he was saying. She’d never heard anything so selfish in her life.
“Let me get this straight: You weren’t happy on Earth, and you didn’t know if you could ever stay with me. So you kidnapped me.”
“I never kidnapped you.”
“You took me against my will. I’d say that was kidnapping.”
“And besides,” She raised her voice. She suddenly wanted to hurt him. “I never even said I wanted to be with you in the first place.”
“You said you loved me.”
“How could I love someone I could never trust?”
Nathan looked genuinely hurt. Sarah didn’t care if she hurt him. Since she’d known him, Nathan had been the one man who had never dropped the ball. He had become the only man she’d thought would never betray her. Now he was just another man she had been wrong about. And that hurt more than any pain she was inflicting on Nathan.
She turned her back to him. “I’m dead because of you.”
Nathan came around to face her. He reached toward her, but she stepped out of his range.
“You don’t know if I can get back. That’s as good as dead in my book.”
“We need to move before nightfall,” was his only answer.
“Move where?”
“We need to find out exactly where we are.” His expression was hard. “That means we have to find others.”
Nightfall never came.
Hours passed. The forest abruptly ended, and they now stood on a precipice that looked out onto the largest mountain range Sarah had ever seen. It made the Grand Canyon look like a roadside ditch.
The sky was a portrait of pinks and purples, but sunset never came. In fact, there seemed to be no sun at all. Just broad daylight all the time.
A herd of white horses galloped down the foot of the valley below them. White hot panic set her feet in motion.
Nathan caught her before she could get away. “It’s all right, Sarah. They’re just horses.”
“The last one tried to kill us.”
“They won’t hurt you.” He drew her head down to watch them. “Look.”
Sarah watched. She felt a strange, out of sorts disconnection so intense it was beyond explanation. The stampede of horses was endless. There must have been thousands of them, and they were all white and flawlessly beautiful.
Everything here was.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Nathan weighed the choice of his words. He felt like a dog in a snare. If he answered Sarah with confidence she might be less frightened. If he did not, she might become angry with him again.
He didn’t feel confident about anything. He had no idea where he was or what had gone wrong. He wondered if Cole Turner had led him into some kind of trap. Cole had told him simply to think of home and of his family and he would automatically be transported there. Nathan had believed him because the very same thing had transported him anywhere on Earth he’d sought to go.
Nathan couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been here before. Nothing was familiar, yet he’d known this place once. He knew it right down to the center of his being, but that was the extent of his memory.
It didn’t set well.
He looked at Sarah. She was staring out at the valley, watching the horses with newfound fear. He wondered again what that horse thing was. He had no idea.
He shouldn’t have brought her, and he didn’t blame her for being angry with him. Other than the incident with the horse, he wasn’t sorry, though, and he refused to apologize for it. Sarah belonged with him. That was that. The sooner she learned it the easier things would be on her.
He pointed to the mountains that overlooked the valley below them. “We have to cross those.”
Sarah’s look was incredulous. “We can’t.”
“We have to.”
“Why?”
He didn’t know why. They just had to.
They took the better part of the afternoon…at least he thought it was afternoon…climbing down to the valley. Nathan had no idea how, but they accomplished it almost effortlessly. He wondered how long it had taken. The concept of time didn’t seem to exist here.
When they started into the mountains, Nathan began to wonder if days had actually passed. It never seemed to get dark here. The sun wasn’t always visible, or maybe it didn’t even exist here, but it was never dark. Last night, it had gotten as dark as a moonlit night in January. It was the kind of light that wasn’t quite light but wasn’t altogether dark either.
The mountains gradually evened out to a precipice which overlooked another valley. Beyond the precipice, they entered a grove of apple trees. Each tree, heavy with pink and white blossoms, bent and twisted from being so overbearing with fruit.
Instinctively, Nathan plucked an apple from a branch. It was so large he needed two hands to hold it.
He’d never seen apples this large in his life.
A noise came from low in his gut. With it came a strange twisting in his stomach.
He was hungry. He hadn’t been hungry since…well, since he’d died.
Sarah must be starving by now. In his rush to get home, he’d completely forgotten about her physical needs.
He picked another apple. He handed it to Sarah. “We will stop here.”
Sarah refused it.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“No.”
Nathan removed a knife from his pocket and began quartering one of the apples. Concentration knotted an ache in his forehead. Something was very wrong. Sarah should be the one who was hungry. She was, after all, the mortal.
He watched he from the corner of his eye. He’d never seen her look so drained. Worry was doing her the most damage, and he didn’t blame her. He’d never meant for things to turn so badly. He had no idea where they were. If they were in heaven, his family would be here. He was sure of it.
And now his family was no where in sight. And Sarah felt cold all the time. She had no appetite, and her eyes—
He had the distinct feeling he’d killed her.
Guilt twisted his gut and sickened him as he observed her. She fashioned a makeshift bed out of some ferns, tucked some leaves under her head for a pillow.
He cut a piece of apple and brought it to her. She refused it.
“You have to eat.”
“My stomach hurts.”
“That’s because you need to eat.”
He handed her the apple, waited until she took it. She ate gingerly, as if waiting for it to come right back up again.
She didn’t have to wait long before she ran behind a tree and vomited. Nathan followed her, stood beside her and rubbed her back as she retched. When she was finished, he put an arm around her and led her back to lie down.
“What’s wrong with me?”
“After you lie down awhile, I want you to try to eat again.”
“I…I feel funny, different.” She laid down. She patted the place next to her. “Come over here.”
Nathan was surprised she hadn’t shunned him, and he was helpless not to go to her. Maybe she was just too tired to argue.
He put an arm around her and conformed her body to his. Perfect. As if they were made to lie together this way. An image of the attack on Fort William came to him then. Men were injured and dying all around him, and there wasn’t a think he could do about it. He felt just as helpless now. More so.
“I know that you are angry with me, but if things had been different…”
She stared at him with huge eyes. He wanted to tell her that he would have sought her out if they had lived during the same lifetime. That the only reason he’d brought her here was so that they could be together.
“I never talked to many girls in my life.”
“There was Jane.”
“She approached me first,” he started to explain. He stopped when he realized from her smile that she was teasing him. Here she was, sticking by him and trying to joke with him when she was probably scared to death. She hadn’t told him
she was scared, not once.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He rolled on his back and stared up at the clouds. “Try to get some sleep.”
“Hey.” She sprawled herself over his chest and stared down at him. “Tell me what’s wrong. Talk to me.”
He ran his fingers in her hair. “I’m sorry that you’re scared. I’m sorry I put you through this.”
“It’s not your fault.”
Emotions suddenly took their toll. He’d never experienced guilt like this, almost to the point that he was suffocating. He felt his throat constrict and didn’t quite understand why. He was selfish for bring her here. But he had to keep going. His family was here over these mountains. They had to be.
Suddenly it all seemed too much. He thought of his family, of himself being alone on Earth, of wondering and waiting for his absolution. Wondering and waiting for so long with no answers…
He felt Sarah’s touch, softly brushing back the hair from his eyes. He felt her under his hands, soft and pliable. He opened his fingers wide, ran his hands along her ribcage. She was ice cold.
He slid her shirt up, kissed a trail from her waist, over to the strange looking corset she wore. A low, throaty laugh came from her.
“Are you feeling better?”
“I-I think so.”
“You have to try to eat again.”
Another laugh escaped her. “I’d rather do something else right now.”
He didn’t give her the chance to change her mind. In one quick motion, he slid her shirt over her head.
“What if someone sees us?”
“We haven’t seen anyone since coming here.”
“Do you think we’re alone here?” Worry outlined tiny lines at the corners of her eyes.
“Like Adam and Eve.” He kissed her, hoping that would ease her mind but not knowing what else to say.
She rolled on her side, and he molded her beneath him. He kissed her fully, his mouth moving over her, hoping to take her worry and his own guilt away. His tongue slid into her mouth, full of apology, full of hope for them, inviting her to share this life, wherever it was, with him. He was going to make it up to her. Starting right now.
He kissed her ears, neck. He removed her bra, kissed her breasts. He moved slowly over her nipples, playfully biting, suckling. He moved lower, down the valley toward her stomach. When his tongue rested on her navel, he heard her sharp intake of breath.
He removed her breeches, her undergarment, her shoes. He kissed her feet, ran his tongue up her ankle. He kissed his way to her thigh, ran his tongue to the place between.
She was breathing frantically now, moaning his name over and over. Excitement exploded in his veins. His sex ached uncontrollably. No one had ever wanted him like this. It was wild and free and beyond control or understanding. And it was for him; a gift greater than anything he’d ever received and it was all his.
He opened her with his mouth, taking her in, working her until he tasted her release.
He felt her hands in his hair, raking the top of his head. “Nathan…I need…please.”
He moved up, and she pulled him down on her. Expertly, he rolled her over, pulled her on him. She leaned up, seated herself on him, quickly taking all of him. She leaned forward, her breath hard, ready for him. Grasping her hips, he ground her to him. He caught her breast in his mouth. She cradled his head, moaned his name until he was dizzy with the sound of it.
Never had he felt so emotionally charged. Sex wasn’t just good between them. It was driving, insatiable, out of control. It was a powerful force beyond reason, and if it didn’t stop—
He exploded in her. The release was hard, beyond anything he’d ever experienced, and it shook him to the edge of his very existence.
He forgot to pull out.
With him still inside her, Sarah relaxed in his arms. A feeling of belonging settled over him. It was peaceful, strong. He felt like he’d known her all his life.
She moved off him, settled beside him. He protectively placed an arm around her. He stared into her eyes, hoping to God she wouldn’t cry again.
“When I was little, I wanted to live in castle,” he told her. Just why, he wasn’t certain.
“A castle?”
“Is that so unusual?”
She smiled. It was full of innocence. “No…I suppose not. I’ve just never heard a man…You sound like my Uncle Stan.”
Nathan laughed. A feeling of peace settled over him. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
Sarah placed her hand on his chest, slid it toward his neck. “I wanted to live in a tree house, but we lived in the city and didn’t have any trees. Sometimes I’d put two chairs together and throw a blanket over them. I’d pretend I was in a fort.”
“You don’t want to live in a fort, trust me.”
They both laughed, as if the reality of the statement were something beyond the truth.
He kissed her forehead. “We could live in a tree house.”
“I have to get home, remember?”
Nathan remembered. A heaviness flattened the sense of peace he’d felt. How could he do anything but remember the need to get home?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sarah had never been so exhausted. She followed Nathan for miles. Forest had turned to rocky terrain, then to mountains, then to a valley. And more horses. Hundreds upon hundreds of horses, but thankfully none like that first one.
She was still gripping a half eaten apple in her fist. Nathan had nagged her to eat it, and now her stomach ached in protest. She wondered if she had some sort of flu. She tossed the remainder of apple into the brush.
Nathan was waiting for her to catch up to him. He’d been watching her like a hawk since they’d woken up this morning…if it was even morning. She wasn’t sure.
He observed her slowly, his gaze studying her, concerned for her. “Can you go on?”
She shook her head. “No.”
She knew what his hurry was. He thought his family was here. If they were—
Well, that would mean she was dead. Wouldn’t it?
The feeling of disconnection increased tenfold, as did her anxiety. She thought of Nathan, wondered what it was to be dead, to realize only you were left and everyone and everything around you was gone.
Anxiety washed over her. She suddenly had to know if Nathan’s family was here in this land. At least if she knew she wad dead, maybe she could do something about it.
After all, Nathan had.
She stood up and walked on ahead of him.
“I thought you wanted to rest.” His tone was edged with irritation.
“I changed my mind.”
She pushed past him. Despite her illness, she walked at breakneck speed. Determination coupled with sheer anger pushed her on. She didn’t want speak to Nathan anymore. Every time he said something, some comment of how the terrain was different or unusual in some way, she would snap at him. Finally, he just stopped trying to talk to her. And right now she was glad.
If she was indeed dead, it was Nathan’s fault. He had after all brought her here. And for that she would never forgive him.
Nathan caught up to her, passed her, then stopped so abruptly she almost bumped into him.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh…” He lifted his hand. “Listen.”
Sarah listened. The breeze gently swayed the surrounding trees. Birds sang in the distance. It was a perfectly beautiful spring day. There was nothing out of the ordinary.
“It’s White Creek.”
Sarah’s heart went up in her throat. White Creek had been Nathan’s hometown. If this was his hometown, it meant she was dead.
He took her hand. “Come.”
She pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
“If this is White Creek, it means—“ She couldn’t finish. She wouldn’t. Panic caught in her throat. She refused to believe she was dead. She may be caught in some strange realm, but she wasn’t dead.
&
nbsp; Nathan’s eyes were filled with understanding. “I won’t leave you, Sarah.”
She believed him. She hated herself for believing him, but right now he was the only thing she could believe in. All her life she’d been dependent on only herself, but right now, in whatever world she was in, he was grounding her. He was her foundation even though he was the cause of her predicament and she hated him for it.
She followed him, passed by some brush that he held out of her way. The forest opened to a clearing. A narrow foot path led down a hill where chimney smoke hung like fog on the hillside. In the distance sheep and cows roamed the fields.
Two dogs spotted them and began barking. They signaled more than a dozen men, who came over the hill to see what caused the commotion.
“People…”
Nathan squeezed her hand. “If they can’t see you, don’t panic.”
“Why wouldn’t they—“ There was no need to finish. Most people hadn’t been able to see Nathan on Earth because he was dead.
Nathan waved to the men. He rushed toward them, meeting them halfway. She watched as he shook the hand of two of the men.
One of them caught Nathan in an embrace. Nathan picked him up and spun him around. “McGraw, as I live and breathe.”
“Henry, I can’t believe it’s you.”
“When did you get back?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Nathan answered. “What happened to you out there?”
Henry gaped at Nathan. The men whispered among themselves. “You don’t remember?”
“Tell me.”
“You better talk to Father James.”
Nathan glanced at Sarah. His looked was almost pleading.
Sarah didn’t want to approach them. Everything in her told her not to. These people would deliver her final fate. They would know if she were dead or not. She didn’t want to know.
But there was no way she could not know.
Slowly, she approached them.
Nathan looked at Sarah, stepped back. “This is Sarah Price.”
None of the men spoke to her. The one called Henry nodded, then looked at the ground.
“You can all see me?”
They appeared uncomfortable. “Yes, Ma’am.
A rush of relief filled her. They could see her. It all made sense. She wasn’t dead. Somehow she’d gone back in the past with Nathan, but she wasn’t dead.
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