Heart's Delight

by Margrett Dawson

  “But the mirror—”

  He paused in his step and kissed her. “What time does the moon go down?”

  She clung to him, conscious of his heartbeat, of the feel of his body against her cheek and under her fingers. “I don’t know. Just before dawn, I guess.”

  “Then we’ll try the mirror then. You can keep watch after I’ve gone.”

  I’ve gone, I’ve gone… Don’t be so selfish, she told herself. He has to go. She couldn’t bear the thought of his leaving, but wouldn’t let on.

  She forced a smile at him and echoed the fire chief. “That sounds like a plan.” She reached out, stroked his cheek. “I want you here, but that’s my problem. Your family needs you. Now, a hot shower sounds good, doesn’t it?”

  The shower stall was narrow, barely big enough for two. When Quinn squeezed in beside her she edged to one side, her hip pressed against his thigh and her breasts brushing his arm. She turned her head to look at him—really look at him—and was struck breathless by all the things that had attracted her to him when she first saw him in the mirror. The strong jaw, the dark blue eyes. The air of confidence.

  Despite what she now knew about his upbringing, he was undeniably in control in her stable and in her bed.

  The hot water pounded on their naked bodies in a rhythm that echoed the beat of her heart. Quinn soaped her, moving gently down her body from neck to thigh. The scent of pine filled the small space. She took the soap from him and lathered his balls and cock, massaging, hands slithering on fragrant skin and hard muscles. His hands 58

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  drew her close to him and she felt the strength of his body holding and supporting her.

  He traced the outline of her mouth with his tongue before parting her lips and kissing her, lightly at first and then more deeply. His erection pushed against her mound.

  She relaxed against him, giving herself entirely over to the waves of pleasure he produced in her. He bent his wet head and licked her nipple.

  “Don’t forget me,” he murmured.

  She gave a short laugh. “I could never forget you. I shall ache for you every minute you’re away.”

  “You think I will leave you tonight?”

  She kissed the side of his neck, letting her lips trail along the pulsing vein. “I’ll let you go,” she promised.

  The words hung in the air between them.

  “I want to make sure you feel where I’ve been inside you. Deep inside you.

  Something you won’t forget.” His voice was gruff with passion and his eyes gleamed hot and demanding. He bent his head over her again, touching his lips to her mouth.

  This was different from his earlier lovemaking. This was slow and gentle, full of emotion and meaning. It had been so long since she’d craved the sensation of a man’s mouth on hers, the caress of kisses that started on her cheek and trailed down her throat. It had been so long since she’d ached for the feel of a man’s hands on her body, the sensation of heat that was beginning to spread through her.

  Stop thinking, she chastised herself. Just feel.

  She did just that, pressing herself against the wall of cool tiles, feeling the water tingling against every inch of her sensitive skin. She pulled him with her, her head spinning as his hands moved around her ribs and found her breasts. Fire began to build in her belly. Her mouth opened for him and her hands fisted in his hair, dragging his mouth back to hers. She arched her back, offering herself to him and he took what she offered, his hands everywhere at once. Tiny cries of pleasure escaped her throat, so clever were his fingers and his tongue.

  His mouth clamped to hers, he cupped the cheeks of her ass and lifted her. In response she wound her legs around his waist, offering her opening to his seeking cock.

  He braced her against the wall and thrust inside her. She closed her eyes, lost in the rhythm of thrust and pull. She felt the tip of his cock deep inside her, pressing, probing, teasing the secret sensitive spots deep within.

  She moaned against his mouth and he clutched her slippery body even tighter as he gave a final thrust that took them both over the edge.

  Quinn allowed her to slide down over his hips until she stood on her own shaky feet. He kissed her wet face and pushed back strands of hair plastered to her cheeks. He reached out and turned off the shower, then kissed her forehead. “You’ll bring me back?” he whispered.

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  It was true—she was the one with the power to send him away and summon him to her side.

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “I want, I want.”

  She nodded, tears mixing with the rivulets of water falling from her hair. “I know.”

  Elaine made soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and they ate quickly, making inconsequential small talk, neither of them voicing the thoughts uppermost in their minds. She gave Quinn a Thermos of hot coffee and a couple of muffins to take with him on his watch. She’d tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary to stand guard, but he was adamant.

  “Suppose it was no accident,” he said.

  “Not an accident? Of course it was—”

  “Think about it, Ellie. Someone wants your land.” She’d told him more about the offers from the developers while they’d worked that afternoon. “I was right there when he talked about a fire sale price.”

  Elaine insides clenched with sudden fear. “But that was just a figure of speech,” she said through stiff lips. “People say it all the time. They don’t mean—”

  He pulled on a big coat. “We won’t take any chances. Star seems to be fine but she could throw the foal after her fright.” He held up his hand. “I’ll call you if anything happens.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” He kissed her. “You get some sleep. You’ll need your strength to move the horses tomorrow.”

  He moved fast, out the door, down the steps and was striding toward the paddocks before she knew it. She followed his progress as he moved swiftly over the grass, his shape clearly visible in the light of the full moon.

  Venus shone brightly in the darker part of the sky. Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might— Elaine squeezed her eyes closed and wished with all her heart to have the courage to send him home to help his sister and her family, and prayed that the magic of the mirror would somehow endure to bring him back to her.

  She lay sleepless for a long while in her lonely bed, mulling over all that had happened. The delicate skin between her legs throbbed gently, a delicious reminder of Quinn’s hard cock that had thrust into her…how many times? She had no idea and she didn’t care. She brushed her hand over her tingling nipples. All she knew was that she wanted him, wanted him by her side and in her bed forever.

  He’d said his sister had invested money in the Cariboo Gold Company. A thousand pounds. Even today that was a sum most people wouldn’t want to lose. In the 1880s the loss could mean ruin. Margaret thought she was helping her brother, and he’d been so 60

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  sure of the solidity of the stock. Elaine recalled the bitter twist to his mouth when he spoke of how his enthusiasm had won over his sister and her husband.

  She wondered how Quinn was faring outside alone. He must have spent many a night wandering the countryside in Devon if she’d understood the kind of life he’d led.

  A wild boy and an even wilder young man. But a man longing to be appreciated, to be loved. It wasn’t hard to imagine his feelings at the thought of robbing his sister of so large a sum.

  She buried her face in the pillow next to her, inhaling the aroma of his hair, the muskiness of his skin. She had not showered again and could smell his scent on her, and she ached from the rawness of the night’s lovemaking. Wrapping her arms around the softness of the pillow, she cradled it against her and eventually drifted into sleep.

  “Elaine, my love. Wake up.” She felt his hand on her bare shoulder and opened her eyes to find him leaning o
ver her, shaking her awake.

  She struggled to sit up. “What time is it?”

  “Your clock downstairs says a little after five. I can still see the moon, but dawn will be here in an hour or so.” He sat on the bed and took her in his arms.

  She laid her head on the cold fabric of his coat. “No problems out there?”

  “None. Silent and dark as the grave. And just as cold and lonely.” His lips brushed her forehead.

  “Are you cold?” She grasped his hands and chafed them between hers.

  “I’ve survived worse, although your coffee was much appreciated.” He smiled at her. “You could warm the rest of me.”

  She hesitated a moment, longing to draw him down to lie beside her, to infuse his body with the heat of hers. “No,” she sighed. “We have to get you back. The sooner you’re back and deal with your investments, the sooner you’ll come back to me. Right?”

  “Absolutely right, my love.” He stood. “Put something warm on and let’s try our luck.”

  She bundled herself into jeans and a sweater and padded down the stairs after him.

  In the living room, the two candlesticks stood on the mantel, one brought by Quinn, one pulled into the present by Elaine.

  “Do you think the candlesticks had anything to do with it?” she asked.

  He frowned. “How so?”

  “I don’t know. A connection, a thread reaching between the two rooms…”

  He shrugged in turn. “Possible. Who knows? I could take mine back with me.”

  Elaine nodded. She felt empty inside, much as she’d felt when Gramps had died.

  Quinn’s not going to die! The worst that could happen would be that he stayed in his own time. But wouldn’t that be a small death for her?

  She shook herself out of her morbid reverie and smiled brightly at him.

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  “Shall we go for it?”

  “I’d better wear my own clothes.”

  “Of course, I’ll get them.”

  She ran upstairs and grabbed hold of the coat and trousers he’d worn only a day before. When she brought them to him, he had already stripped off his coat, his sweater and jeans. His shoes lay to one side. Without a word, he took his clothes and began to dress.

  “I never did mend your coat.”

  He glanced at her. “No matter.”

  She averted her eyes, not because she didn’t want to drink in every detail of his body, but because the clothes seemed to be drawing him away from her, turning him back into a stranger. She could hardly bear it.

  Fully dressed again, he took a step toward her and kissed her on her lips. Tears scalded her eyes and trickled down her cheek. He brushed the drops away with his thumb. “Time to go,” he whispered.

  She nodded and faced the mirror, clinging to his hand. Quinn took hold of the candlestick with his free hand and stepped up on the footstool. Margaret and Walter’s drawing room appeared in the mirror, misty at first, as if seen underwater, then becoming clearer. The gaslight was low, casting deep shadows in the empty room.

  “Is anyone there?” she whispered.

  “No. I think they’ve gone to bed.” In a moment Quinn had swung himself onto the mantel. Elaine squeezed her eyes shut and wished with all her might for him to pass through the glass. His hand slid from hers and she bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out.

  When she opened them, he was gone, and the image of the Victorian drawing room had disappeared. She stretched out her hand and met cold glass.

  The house felt chilly and empty. Quinn’s brief presence had filled it with life, with love, with movement. Now all was silence and loneliness. Elaine waited a half-hour in front of the mirror after it swallowed Quinn into its cold hardness, but no images reappeared.

  With a sigh, she tore herself away from the glass that reflected only her own pale face and her own living room and trudged upstairs. There was plenty to do to keep busy while she waited to see if and when Quinn would return. Her neighbor up the hill might agree to take the horses for a while, although she had no idea how she would pay him. Then she must contact the insurance company about rebuilding. Maybe it would be best to sell out after all.

  In her bedroom she straightened the covers and picked up the clit vibrator she’d promised to wear for him but never had. She tucked it back into its packet and gathered up the nipple clamps and the vibrator. She stood for a moment weighing them in her 62

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  hands, remembering Quinn sitting on her bed examining each piece. As clearly as if he’d materialized again, she saw the ripple of his muscles, the smoothness of his skin, the lock of hair that fell across his forehead and the mischievous grin as he asked her about each of the toys.

  She made a decision. Heaven only knew if putting them away would help ease the pain of the memories, but it was a sure thing that if she kept them by her bed, she never would get him out of her head.

  She would put them back in the spare bedroom where they had been before.

  The drawer in the other bedroom hung open and she dropped her packages inside and slid it shut before she noticed the piece of paper. It was fastened to the wall with a long, shining piece of metal. The head of the pin gleamed.

  Quinn’s diamond pin.

  She took the note from the wall and laid the pin carefully on the side table. He obviously had not forgotten it.

  She smoothed out the note and sank onto the bed to read it. It was written in a flowing copperplate that she’d only seen in old manuscripts or from a computer font.

  “Deer Ellie,” it began. “My darlign. I want you to have this pin. It was my Fathers and given to me in a fit of genrositie that he mite now regret. It is valuabel. Use it for your stabel. I beleev I will cum back to you. I luv you with all my hart.”

  Elaine stared at the words, so beautifully fashioned, so wrongly spelled.

  Quinn was dyslexic.

  No wonder he had done poorly in school, had never succeeded in the way his father wanted. What effort it must have taken him to learn to form his letters. She recalled him asking her to confirm what was on the computer screen about the Cariboo Gold Company, asking her to read out the instructions for the sex toy. Yet he’d read to his nephew. No. He hadn’t glanced at the open book. He knew the story by heart or he was making it up as he went along. Many dyslexics had amazing auditory recall.

  Elaine thought of the children to whom she gave riding lessons, some mentally, some physically handicapped. They had difficult lives, but their teachers and their families understood their problems. They didn’t beat them because they couldn’t do what other children were capable of.

  She wiped away a tear. Quinn had a lovely heart, a generous spirit. She longed to take him in her arms, tell him that all was well, that he was loved and valued for the fine person he was.

  She touched the diamond head of the pin to her lips. “Come back to me, Quinn,”

  she whispered. “Come back soon.”

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  Chapter Six

  Quinn held his breath as if rising through a pool of water and let it out as he emerged on the other side of the mirror. The room was dark except for a lit candle stub that flickered on a small table. The clock’s tick was loud in the silence but he could not make out the position of the hands. He crouched like a cat for a moment on the fireplace mantel, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the gloom. It had been just before dawn when he’d left Ellie, but Lord only knew what time it was in this world.

  Better to hop down fast in case the tweenie came to riddle out the cold ashes and remake the fire. He replaced the candlestick where it had been two days earlier and made haste to get his feet on solid ground.

  He was just congratulating himself on making a discreet entrance when he saw movement in one of the big armchairs.

  “Quinn? Is that you?” Margaret sat up, pushing a blanket down from her shoulders onto her knees.

  “My goodne
ss, you startled me. Yes, I’m back.” It sounded pretty lame, but what else could he say?

  “I must have dropped off to sleep.” She rose to her feet and threw the cover to the floor. “Where have you been?” She took a step toward him and put her hand on his arm. He suddenly remembered the dressing Ellie had placed on his forehead.

  “Oh,” he said, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the window, “I’ve been lying low as I promised.” He took her elbow to steer her back to her chair while with one hand he edged a nail under the sticky plaster and ripped it off.

  “Ouch!”

  Margaret turned to him. “What is it, my dear? Are you hurt?”

  “No, no, just a few cuts and bruises. Remember how I was always falling about as a child? Be right as rain in another day.”

  She let him guide her to her chair. He was beginning to see more clearly. What a blessing those lights in Ellie’s house would be, blazing like the midday sun with just the touch of a switch. He tucked the blanket ‘round Margaret’s knees. “Now, what are you doing sleeping down here at this time of night?”

  “I was waiting for you,” she said as if it should have been obvious to him. “You’ve been gone two days. What have you been up to?” She frowned. “How did you get in?

  Walter locked up when he went to bed.” She turned her head toward the door as if the answer might lie there.

  He ignored the first question and laid one index finger against his nose. “Now that would be telling. You know I always had secret ways in and out of the house.”

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  She smiled. “And it drove Nanny wild.” She patted his arm. “I also remember you kept your secrets.” She didn’t need to add that he’d taken many a beating as a consequence. She reached for the candle and peered into his face. “Let me look at you.

  Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Positive.” He knelt beside her chair and took her hand. “Margaret, you have to listen to me. About those investments—”

  “Where’s your diamond pin?” she interrupted. “I knew there was something missing. You haven’t sold it, have you?”