by Deb Stover
He grabbed her hips and maneuvered her astride him. She hesitated, and the anticipation almost killed him. This was something he'd only read about in magazines and had believed he wouldn't live to experience firsthand.
"Don't torture me, baby."
She lowered herself onto him. "So...big."
"Mmm." He cradled her hips and buried himself, watching her shocked expression. "So tight."
She moved against him, her eyes glittering with wicked promise. "So right," she whispered.
Yes, right. Only a miracle had brought them to this. No doubt remained in his mind that he and Sofie were meant to be. This was bigger than both of them.
She fastened herself around him, clutched him deep inside, and angled her hips just right. Wanting to watch her, Luke kept his gaze on her face.
She moved against him and he drove upward to meet her. Her hair fell in loose, sexy curls. And her breasts... He reached up to fill his hands with them, encouraged by her astonished gasp and sudden contraction.
"Mmm." He urged her forward, then tasted her tawny nipples. Sweet. So sweet... She throbbed around him and he nearly exploded then and there.
But he wouldn't go alone. Rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, he watched her as she propelled her pelvis against him. The veins in her neck became distended and her head lolled backward. The sight and feel of her riding him, her beautiful breasts filling his hands, her head thrown back in ecstasy...
They came together. Straining and groaning, sharing and pulsing, she slumped against him, delivering delicate kisses along the side of his neck. Luke stroked her back, holding her to him in awe.
She was his. Nothing stood between them except his conscience and the truth. Damn the truth. Instead of telling her he was leaving the priesthood, he'd told her he'd never been a priest. More true than the latter, but still a lie of omission. She still didn't know who he really was.
Or why he'd been masquerading as a priest.
But when he'd returned to the cabin and found her so upset... Plus, in all honesty, he realized that knowing they were fellow time-travelers created an invisible bond between them. And Luke wanted–needed–to bind her to him in every conceivable way.
Before she learned the whole truth.
Guilt, as potent and toxic as the day he'd learned of Grandpa's death, threatened to pollute something pure and beautiful. His gut knotted and burned. Lying to the woman he loved was lower than low.
She was obviously regaining bits and pieces of her memory. He couldn't bear to see her look at him as a murderer. Though he knew he was innocent, she wouldn't.
Unless, maybe, he told her first. Somehow, some way, he had to eventually tell Sofie the truth. Soon.
All of it.
Chapter 20
Sunlight glaring off snow without the protection of sunglasses was not fun. Sofie pulled her hat lower over her eyes as she followed Luke down the pass. The snow was melting faster than it had fallen, exposing patches of bare ground.
Every time she thought about the fact that she and Luke were from another century, she shook her head. Maybe, if she ever remembered her family name, she could find her ancestors. But what would she tell them? To say their situation was bizarre would be an incredible understatement.
Just ahead, the earth seemed to vanish, but after all the miles they'd traveled, Sofie knew it meant another downward slope. She hoped this one didn't have as many switchbacks as the last.
Luke brought Rosie to a halt and glanced back over his shoulder with a wide grin. "Look," he said.
Sofie edged her horse close his and gazed down at the vast plain before them. Far in the distance, she saw a city. "Denver?"
Luke nodded. "If I'm not mistaken, in our time, this will be called Lookout Mountain. Maybe it already is."
"Gee, wonder why." She answered Luke's grin with one of her own. "How long will it take us to get down there?"
He shrugged. "I've given up judging distances via horseback, but I hope within a day."
A barrage of emotions bombarded Sofie. Looking down on the city of Denver triggered no memories for her, though she felt certain she'd been there many times. "Was Denver your home, Luke?" She really knew little about this man she loved.
He tensed and cleared his throat. "Yes, it's home." Gazing down the pass at the massive plain, he sighed. "At least, it was."
Sofie reached for his hand, and he brought hers to his lips, kissing it fiercely. After a moment, he lowered it, but kept it in his grip.
"I have something to tell you," he said quietly, then turned to face her with a haunted expression. "I...I was convicted of a crime I didn't commit, Sofie."
She sensed he needed to tell her about this, though she knew in her heart it wouldn't–couldn't–change her feelings for him. "I'm listening."
"I went to prison for eleven years." He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "But I want you to know I was really innocent. Do you believe me?"
Sofie squeezed his hand. "Yes, I do." She smiled up at him. "I love you, Luke Sa–"
"Not Salazar." He shrugged, but the haunted expression remained. "Nolan. My last name is Nolan."
Something else occurred to her and she studied his eyes. "You haven't told me why you were pretending to be a priest, Luke." She rolled her eyes and laughed softly. "I can't imagine why anyone would."
"I'm getting to that." He patted Rosie's neck absently. "I guess you could say I ran a little farther than I'd planned."
Realization slammed into Sofie. "Whoa, are you saying you were still in prison when–"
"Yes." He met her gaze, his eyes glittering with anger and something more. Fear? "After those explosions, I realized–thought–everybody else was dead. Father Salazar was and I needed clothes, so..."
"I see." Sofie swallowed the lump in her throat. She'd been more than ready to accept that Luke had a criminal record, and that he'd been wrongfully convicted. But he was also an escaped convict.
"Sofie, if you'd been in prison for eleven years for a crime you didn't commit," he said carefully, "and you found yourself in a position to just walk away..."
"Yeah, I see your point." She leaned over and kissed him. As she straightened, she caressed his cheek with her gloved hand. "I love you, Luke, and you're safe here. What's past–or future–can't hurt you anymore."
"I sure hope you're right." He sighed again, then seemed to gain control of his emotions. As he flashed her a grin, he appeared years younger. "Thank you for loving me, and for believing me."
"My pleasure." And it was. She looked toward Denver again. "Guess we'd better get moving."
"One more thing." He took her hand again and gazed intently into her eyes. "Sofie, I couldn't ask you this before telling you who I am, but now..."
Her heart did a somersault. "I'm listening."
"Will you marry me when we get to Denver?"
Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "Yes," she whispered. "I'll marry you."
They kissed again, and Sofie wished they could spread a blanket out on a dry patch of ground to seal their engagement. Making love with Luke Sa–Nolan every day of her life would be heaven. No doubt about it.
"I have one more question, though," she said as they parted. "Why didn't you drop your disguise after you learned we'd been thrown back in time?"
His eyes hardened again and she regretted pushing the point so soon. It could have waited. "Never mind," she said, "we can discuss this later."
"No, now." He looked into the distance, beyond her at something she suspected only he could see. "The shame." He turned his gaze on her again. "I didn't want to feel ashamed of something I didn't do ever again."
She studied his expression for several moments, knowing in her heart that he meant exactly what he'd said. "Yes, I understand." She kissed him again, then straightened in her saddle. "Your sense of honor is one of the things I love most about you."
He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Oh, I thought it was..." Leaning closer, he whispere
d something in her ear that would've given Mrs. Wilson heart failure. Sofie's pulse quickened and her breath froze. Heat suffused her body and she squirmed in her saddle.
She maneuvered her hand beneath the edge of his coat and cupped the hard, impressive evidence of his desire. "That, too, big guy."
His gaze raked her, though she knew he couldn't see anything through her bulky coat and baggy jeans. "Later, I'm going to hold you down and kiss every inch of you."
Hunger oozed through her body as she rubbed her palm along the hard ridge beneath his jeans. "Every...inch?"
"Yeah." His voice sounded hoarse. "Every gorgeous inch."
"Pity we have to wait." Slowly, seductively, she used her thumb to trace circles around the hot, throbbing tip of his erection. "Hmm...?"
"The sun's warm," he whispered against her lips. "Isn't it about lunch time?"
"Let's skip lunch and get right to dessert."
"Oh, God."
Luke no longer felt like a liar, though he still hadn't told her the nature of his alleged crime, or the fact that he was being executed when they'd been thrown back in time. He knew she would ask eventually, and he would tell her the truth.
No more lies. He was finished with lies.
As they neared Denver, his tension mounted. He knew the building that housed, or would house, his grandfather's shoe repair shop already existed. Something tugged at his sub-conscious, and he couldn't stop thinking about how much he'd wanted Grandpa's respect. Instead, the old man had died ashamed of his only heir.
But Luke had to concentrate on the here and now, such as it was. He had a new life ahead, and a woman who loved him. He was about to get married.
Denver was far different from the city he remembered, but much of it was still familiar to Luke. The energy and vitality–the heart of the city–were already present. A stab of homesickness shot through him as they rode through town.
First, they visited the assayers office and he cashed in the gold nuggets the citizens of Redemption had given them. Then they found a hotel near the area that would one day be known as the 16th Street Mall.
Two blocks from his grandfather's shoe repair shop. Four blocks from the Victorian house where he'd been raised. The sight of the beginnings of the State Capital jarred him. Though still under construction, the skeleton of the dome and the building itself was yet another reminder of his grandparents and his childhood.
And his shame.
After they checked into the hotel and cleaned up, Luke left to buy a dress for Sofie and some decent clothes for himself. Wedding clothes. His internal radar dragged him over two blocks where he stood and stared at the brownstone that would one day belong to his grandfather.
From the outside, it looked very much as he remembered, though it now boasted a bright orange awning. Tears burned his eyes and scalded his throat, then he noticed the store was a millinery shop and dressmaker. He could probably find Sofie something nice there, and manage to satisfy his own curiosity at the same time.
After crossing the cobblestone street, he mustered his self-control and pushed open the door. Displays of hats, lace collars, and gloves filled the front room, and a large open book occupied a table between two wing backed chairs. Gaslights glowed from ceiling and wall fixtures.
He looked at the back wall, noting its brick construction, and a wave of nostalgia blasted through him. Grandpa had torn the bricks off that wall and replaced it with gleaming wood paneling and a multitude of shelves. Luke remembered helping the old man tear down the bricks himself with a hammer and chisel. It had been tedious work, but laboring beside Grandpa had been one of Luke's favorite boyhood activities. How he'd loved that old man...
"May I help you, sir?"
Clearing his throat, Luke forced his attention to the well-dressed woman. "Yes." She wore a white, lace-trimmed blouse buttoned nearly to her chin. Her hair was pulled into a bun or something at the back of her head, and a decorative comb held one side. A brooch at the front of her blouse was her only jewelry.
Was this how Sofie should dress? The dresses she'd borrowed from Dora had been much more practical, but this was Denver, not Redemption. For the wedding, he decided, she needed something frilly.
"Are you looking for a gift, sir?"
"Yes, a wedding gift." He looked around the store at all the frills. "Do you have any dresses?"
"You mean ready-made dresses, sir?" She appeared scandalized.
"Well, yeah, the wedding's today." Luke chuckled. What would she think if he told her he and Sofie were already sharing a hotel room? "Something I can buy and walk out the door with."
"Only some samples." She hoisted her chin up a notch or two.
Snob. "Well, my fiancé is about, er..." He looked the woman up and down. "She's about your size, only a little bigger right, uh, here." He held his hands cupped out in front of his chest.
The woman gasped and he dropped his hands to his sides. "Sorry, ma'am," he muttered, realizing immediately that he'd just committed a major social blunder. In any century. Heat flooded his face, but he pushed onward. "Would any of your samples fit someone that size?"
She gave a stiff nod and disappeared into the back room, where Grandpa would one day keep fragrant pieces of leather, tools, and supplies. Luke wondered what was back there now. Probably lace and stuff.
"Here we are." The woman returned with three dresses draped over her arm. She hung them from hooks along the brick wall and stood back. "If we had time to take measurements, I'm sure I could create something lovely for your young lady."
"Yes, I'm sure you could, but we're in a hurry." Luke heard her gasp, but decided to ignore it. Let the woman think whatever she wanted. Well, considering how intimate he and Sofie had been the last few days, she could be pregnant. The thought made him smile, which shocked him even more.
"Do any of these meet your approval, sir?" the woman asked stiffly.
Forcing his attention back to choosing Sofie's wedding dress, Luke zeroed in on something soft and blue–the color of Sofie's eyes. "I like this one."
"That's a traveling suit, sir."
"Oh, well, she'll need one of those, too." He wasn't wealthy, but he had quite a bit of money after cashing in his gold. One dress was a myriad of checks, which he ruled out immediately, and the third one was glittering gold, obviously meant for a party. Even he could tell the neckline was cut very low, and the waistline tightly fitted.
"This one." He pointed at the gold. "I'll take this one now, then bring her back to try on the blue one tomorrow, if that's all right."
The clerk nodded, open approval showing in her eyes and surprising Luke. "You must love her very much."
"More than my life." Luke instantly changed his opinion of the sales clerk.
"Your fiancé is a very fortunate young lady."
"Nah, I'm the lucky one." He smiled and asked the woman to throw in any underthings Sofie might need, too.
Blushing, the clerk boxed everything for him and he asked her where to find clothes for himself. As he left, he glanced back over his shoulder at the brick wall. He could actually see himself standing there as a young boy of about nine, right beside Grandpa.
Why did that one small event from his childhood haunt him so? At any rate, he was glad he had an excuse to return to the store. He smiled, realizing he could tell Sofie why the building was important to him.
Yes, he was the lucky one in this deal. Not only was he going to marry a woman he loved, but she was the only person in the world who would understand his memories of events that hadn't happened yet.
The air outside was crisp but the sunshine brilliant. He had no idea of the date, but they were definitely well into October now. Too late to travel west by covered wagon, but maybe there was a train across the southwest. He knew there was one through Wyoming by this time. Or they could go south and catch a boat to California, though that would mean traveling around South America. He had no idea whether or not the Panama Canal had been built yet.
Strike that idea. The
thought of being confined on board a ship for months sounded awful. Especially after eleven years in prison...
Determined to put that experience to rest once and for all, Luke drew a deep breath. He had clothes to buy, and he needed to find a church. Any church.
Guilt threatened his resolve again. No, not any church. He wasn't quite ready to enter a Catholic church. Besides, all the rules and rituals required for a Catholic ceremony would take time. If there was one thing Luke didn't want to do again, it was wait.
Within an hour, he returned to the hotel with his arms laden with packages. He and Sofie had an appointment with a Methodist minister later in the afternoon.
If he had a Big Mac and a large order of fries for both of them, life would be perfect.
Sofie giggled when Luke insisted on carrying her across the threshold after their wedding. She didn't care that the hotel clerk had looked at them with disapproval when Luke asked for a bottle of champagne to celebrate their wedding.
Nothing mattered except the man who now held her in his arms. Nothing at all.
He lowered her to her feet slowly, letting her body slide along the front of his. This was their wedding night. Her head swam with the delicious possibilities.
His mouth captured hers and Sofie relished his unique, compelling flavor. The kiss was bottomless, wet, savage. The best kind.
His lips left hers to venture down her throat, and she was vaguely aware of him kicking the door shut behind them. A trail of fire in its wake, his mouth tarried at the swell of her breasts above the daringly cut gold dress.
Her breasts swelled and ached in anticipation. Boldly, she inched her hand downward, thrilled to find him swollen, too. Ready.
"God, Sofie, I–"
A knock at the door made them groan in unison, then Sofie sighed and said, "The champagne."
"Damn stupid idea of mine. You stay right here and hold that thought."
"Why, what thought might that be, sir?" She batted her lashes innocently.
"Mmm, I've always wondered what it would be like to ravish a, uh, proper young lady."
