by Joan Hohl
“I know.” Reaching down, she reciprocated his stroking caresses by running her palm over his hard flanks. “It was ... it was like the first time, only better.” Beneath her hand, Alycia felt his thigh muscles tighten in response to her caresses and admission. He arched reflexively, driving his body deeper into hers. Alycia gasped and held her breath, startled by the depth of excitement his action caused in her body.
Misunderstanding her involuntary response, Sean hesitated, beginning to ease himself back.
“No! Sean, no. It’s all right,” Alycia cried in a tautly harsh tone that reflected the burst of shimmering excitement she felt inside, as her body adjusted to the fullness of his.
“Alycia?” Sean’s low voice murmured dubiously. “Are you sure?”
Lifting her hands, she clasped his hips, drawing his body more deeply into hers. “Yes.” The word shivered through her lips on a sigh of sheer pleasure. As he began to move his body in sync with hers, Alycia became aware of the reason Sean had retreated from her a few seconds before slipping into the embrace of her thighs. Without words or fuss or fanfare, Sean had taken those few seconds to ensure her protection. Warmed by his concern for her, she thought to thank him, but then all thought fled before an onslaught of delight created by the driving cadence of his body.
Tension coiled and intensified, swirling higher and higher until, their ragged breath mingling as intimately as their bodies, their voices blended in a joyous cry of release.
Alycia was awakened by the teasing tickle of something cool brushing her cheek. Raising her hand, she flicked lazily at her face and slowly opened her eyes. Sean was lying beside her, his torso propped up by his forearm. His eyes were warm as a summer sky his smile was soft, tender, replete. His free hand held the slender stem of one perfectly formed daffodil. The spring-yellow bloom was decorated by the draping strand of a glittering, finely wrought gold chain.
“Hi.” Dipping his hand, Sean slowly drew the gold-festooned flower over her cheek.
“Hi.” Somehow, Alycia managed to smile and frown at the same time. “What have you got there?”
“Your gift.” Sean’s smile was enticingly wicked. “The one you said could wait, while you couldn’t.”
“Oh.” Her brown eyes widening with surprise, Alycia lifted her hand to delicately touch the cool metal. “It’s beautiful.”
Sitting up, Sean detached the chain from the flower. “Let me fasten it for you.” Laying the blossom on the nightstand, he opened the chain’s clasp and held the ends apart invitingly. “Come on, sit up,” he coaxed.
“But I’m naked!”
“Yeah.” Sean grinned again. “I’m not stupid. I’ve been seeing the gold around your naked wrist for days. Now I want to see my chain around your neck ... with all of you naked.”
“It’s absolutely decadent,” Alycia muttered, wriggling up.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, fastening the clasp at the nape of her neck. “But I’m finding it exciting as hell.” Leaning back, he observed his offering then slowly ran his gaze down her body. “I want to make love to you, now, with your naked body draped in gold.”
In silent love and gratitude, Alycia opened her arms to him. And in their greedy hunger for the taste of each other, Alycia and Sean completely forgot about dinner that night.
* * *
Chapter 6
It was storming. Wind-driven rain beat against the windows and side of the small car. Through the windshield, Alycia could see the black clouds illuminated by the jagged slash of lightning. She didn’t mind the rain or the chill. Her thoughts were warm with memories of Sean. While keeping a steady eye on the four-lane highway and the traffic around her, Alycia mentally reviewed the events of that morning.
Hunger had awakened them before dawn. There had been a few awkward moments due to Alycia’s shy reluctance to leave the bed in her natural state. Teasing her, loving her with his shadowed eyes, Sean had settled the issue by hauling her from the bed and into the shower— with him. After a wet, rather hilarious, but nonetheless intense lovemaking, they had showered, dressed, and made a dash for the kitchen.
Laughing together, they prepared a huge breakfast and then, by mutual if silent agreement, fell quiet while consuming it. It was over second cups of coffee that Sean shattered Alycia’s sense of utter contentment.
“What time were you planning to leave?” Though mild, his tone held an unmistakable thread of constraint.
Alycia shot a glance at the kitchen wall clock before answering. “Soon. It’s a five- or six-hour drive, depending on the traffic.” She turned to look out the window at the dark clouds rolling in from the west. “And from the looks of that sky, it’s going to storm.” She tried to smile but gave up the effort and sighed. “I’d like to arrive before dark.”
“Of course.” Sean nodded. “I’ll help you get your things together.” He smiled when she gave him a surprised look. “I don’t want you to go,” he admitted in a husky voice. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight, ever again.” His shoulders moved in a light shrug. “But I also know I can’t carry you around in my pocket.”
Alycia bit her lip and lowered her eyes. “I think I could be very comfortable curled up inside your pocket,” she said haltingly, amazing herself almost as much as him.
“Oh, for at least a week or two,” Sean returned gently. “No, love, I won’t try to hobble you—not now, not ever. But please remember, you’re mine.” His smile was both sweet and sensuous. “Strangely, I’ve discovered I have a possessive streak.” He raised his hand to her throat, fingering the chain resting at the base of it. “In a way, you now wear my ring, if only around your neck. Later, we’ll talk about one for your finger.”
Lightning crackled directly overhead, followed by a jarring boom of thunder. Startled into alertness, Alycia tightened her grip on the steering wheel and focused her attention on the highway. The heavy downpour obscured the cars ahead, behind, and flashing by, but at least it decreased the accumulated snow blanketing the fields bordering the highway. Easing her booted foot from the accelerator, she steadied the wheel with one hand and brought the other hand to her throat to touch the encircling links of gold.
Sean wanted marriage. Alycia shivered. Could she handle it? Except for a very few, all the memories she retained of marriage were bad. Commitment to a man had certainly not been one of the goals she had set for herself after the divorce. Quite the contrary, Alycia had been certain that she never wanted to find herself in that particular situation again.
But Sean obviously wanted marriage. And Alycia wanted Sean. A box, she thought wryly, stroking the chain one last time before lowering her hand to the wheel. She was very neatly boxed. The question was, could she be content to coexist with Sean within the confines of that emotional container? Could she make it work this time?
Alycia was worrying the pros and cons of commitment when the sudden, erratic motion of the pickup truck directly in front of her made her tighten her grip on the steering wheel.
What in God’s name was that driver doing?
The thought flashed through Alycia’s mind as the truck seemed to go out of control completely, weaving back and forth between lanes. Fear clutched at her throat and set her heart pounding. Reacting, she eased her right foot from the accelerator and gently pressed the brake pedal with her left foot.
A sigh of relief whooshed through her lips as the truck shot into the passing lane, then appeared to steady, as though the driver had finally gained control of the vehicle.
Her relief was of short duration. Within moments, the truck was moving erratically again, swerving back and forth between lanes. The copper taste of fear was in Alycia’s mouth, and she was fighting the wheel, trying to determine what direction the truck would go next when suddenly the vehicle spun around in a semicircle and headed straight at her.
There was nowhere for her to go! The thought exploded inside Alycia’s head. There was nowhere to go. Turning the steering wheel frantically, her eyes widening with horror, she watc
hed the truck bear down on her. And then her world went mad.
Horns blared. Tires screeched. There was a jolting impact and grating sound of tearing metal. There was the sensation of unspeakable pain. Alycia’s mouth was open. Her vocal chords were straining. A woman was screaming in her ear. Then there was the void of blackness and blessed silence.
* * * *
The woman had stopped screaming. The vague thought gave Alycia a measure of relief—a small measure. Thinking hurt. Her entire body hurt, but her head hurt most of all. Memory was cloudy and disjointed. Why had the woman screamed?
Alycia tried to concentrate; it was near impossible. Her body was being jostled, jolted from side to side. At regular, sickening intervals her head tapped smartly against something solid.
Concentrate, concentrate, she told herself, but her mind was groping its way through a haze of pain. She should remember, could remember, if only the infernal bouncing would stop!
Her eyelids were heavy, weighted. Alycia wasn’t up to the effort of prying her lids apart. There came a particular hard jolt. Her head rebounded off the solid object.
God! The pain! Alycia moaned. There was a murmur of response. A voice? She couldn’t be sure—and she hurt too much to care. Her thoughts wandered through a maze of confusion, searching, searching. For what?
Oh, yes. Why was the woman screaming?
Memory stirred. The storm. The rain. The truck. The crash! She had been the woman screaming!
Where was she?
Another jolt. Damn! Panic clawed at her throat. Where in the name of God was she?
Alycia had to know, had to see. Gritting her teeth, she slowly, carefully raised her eyelids just a fraction of a crack.
Oh, my God! My God! The light! It’s too bright, too glaring. It’s searing my brain!
Sean!
A sigh whispered through Alycia’s lips as the welcome darkness closed in to claim her once more.
* * * *
Would this awful bouncing never end? Alycia fought returning consciousness and pain. Her world had diminished into a round-robin of bounce, jostle, jolt, and the crack of her head against the dreaded solid object.
Where in blazing hell was she?
The question induced a modicum of alertness. The pain in her head had decreased to a bearable throb and, though every muscle in her body ached, Alycia could cope with the discomfort. It was still too much of an effort to open her leaden eyelids. But where was she? Her activated brain examined the possibilities.
Was she lying on a gurney, being rushed along a hospital corridor? That would explain the terrible brightness when she’d opened her eyes before. But, if that was the case, how long was this corridor, anyway?
Or was she in an ambulance, racing to some hospital? Alycia frowned inwardly. There wasn’t even a hint of a wailing siren blaring a warning to motorists.
Jolt. Bump. Alycia’s head banged against the hard surface.
That does it! she decided, clenching her teeth. Heavy eyelids or not, painful or not, she had to force her eyes open to see exactly where she was!
The process of opening her eyes, which should have been so very simple, was every bit as difficult the second time around. Determination tightening her mouth, Alycia raised her eyelids to half-mast. The light was again very bright, but tolerable. As her vision cleared, she focused on a small window, through which she could see a summer-blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds. As she gazed in bemusement, the brightness was dimmed, diffused by an umbrella of branches in full dark green leaf.
For an instant, Alycia’s brain switched to stun and her eyelids slammed shut. She remained thought-free for several seconds while dealing with a harsh stab of pain through her head. As the pain subsided, curiosity nudged her mental faculties into action again. Though her thoughts were jagged and fragmented, they were on target
Blue sky and puffy white clouds.
What had become of the greenish-dark sky and the angry mass of black storm clouds?
While pondering the weather, Alycia was struck by another, more confusing realization.
Tree branches in full dark green leaf?
Ridiculous! Her mind scoffed, flashing a memory of the trees bordering the highway, the leafless branches spotted with patches of clinging snow.
It was the headache. Alycia grasped at the explanation. Yes, of course. She had obviously struck her head on impact with the pickup, and the injury was causing hallucinations. The very idea of having hallucinations was terrifying. Her heart raced, intensifying the pain in her head.
Aspirin. Alycia suddenly recalled the small container of aspirin she had tossed into her handbag that morning. If she could only bear to keep her eyes open long enough to find her purse ...
“Alice? Are you awake, my child?”
Stunned, her breathing growing shallow and uneven, Alycia lay absolutely still, her mind consumed by one question: Who was Alice? Then, as the mental numbness wore off, her thought process exploded with queries and speculations.
She was not alone! The thought induced some comfort.
Who was with her?
The voice had definitely been female—a nurse?
The voice had been soft, slow, the intonation not quite that of a Southern drawl, but close to it.
Alycia was hot. With sharpened awareness, she realized that she was uncomfortably covered or clothed. Why was she hot, when the weather was so damp and chill?
What was going on? Where was ... ? Alycia’s thought was cut off by a particularly rough bump. Her head thumped against the blasted object. Annoyance flared.
How in the world was a person supposed to think with all the rocking and rolling and the clattering of wheels and the rattle of harness and the steady pounding of horses’ hooves and ... Hold it! Clattering of wheels? Rattle of harness? Pounding of horses’ hooves? What the ... ?
Alycia’s eyes flew wide open. Her glance darting around frantically, she attempted to absorb all of her surroundings at once. Her eyes widened even more as her tired mind registered certain salient facts: She was reclining on the hard seat of an inadequately sprung carriage—no, not a carriage. Her swiftly moving glance took in the ceiling and side appointments of the conveyance. It was a coach, a traveling coach!
“There, you see, my dear? ‘Tis as I said ‘twould be. The child has regained consciousness. She will be right as rain before time.”
‘Tis? “Twould? Before time?
Alycia’s mind shut down again, but her body jerked when a hand was laid gently on her arm.
“Rest easy, my child. We will be home soon.”
Home? Her mind was off and running with the word. Home. Pennsylvania. Sean.
Anticipation trembling through her, Alycia opened her eyes and turned her head in the direction of the soft, reassuring voice. The sight that met her eyes was almost shocking enough to close them again.
A middle-aged couple sat on the seat facing Alycia, their expressions revealing genuine concern. But it wasn’t the couple themselves that propelled Alycia into struggling to sit up. It was their appearance. Incredibly, unbelievably, they were attired in the fashion of the Revolutionary War period!
Shutting her eyes quickly, Alycia flopped back against the hard seat. She winced as a stabbing pain lanced through her head. Damn this head injury! She must be hallucinating! Fighting a feeling too close to panic to be contemplated rationally, Alycia forced herself to take slow, calming breaths. She had barely begun when the sound of the man’s voice demolished the thread of control she had grasped.
“Verily, child, I would that you remain quiet until we have arrived home.”
Verily? Verily! I would that? Home? Alycia’s mind splintered. She wasn’t hallucinating! The blow to her head must have been worse than she thought. She was going stark, raving mad!
“Where ... where am I?” Alycia cringed inwardly at the unfamiliar, whimpering sound of her voice and at her use of the trite phrase she had believed was spoken only in jest or in bad movies.
“W
hy, very near to home now,” the woman answered.
“Some ten miles from Williamsburg,” the man interjected.
Williamsburg? Alycia silently repeated the place-name. That would explain the couple’s attire. But how could that be? Frowning, she grasped at the shadowy memory of the road sign she’d noticed shortly before that truck went haywire. The signs had indicated that she was approaching the exit for Richmond. How had she gotten to Williamsburg?
As if in answer to her question, the coach lurched, nearly pitching her to the floor. Rattled more than she wanted to admit, even to herself, Alycia peeped at the man and woman from beneath her slightly raised lashes, hoping they’d be dressed properly. They were—for the late eighteenth century. Suppressing a sigh, she managed to articulate a one-word question.
“Williamsburg?”
“Yes, my dear,” the woman responded in a soft, genteel voice.
Okay, Alycia told herself. You’re in—or close to—the restored area of Williamsburg, and these people are just very serious about their roles as citizens of the period. You are not mad or even slightly crazy. You are exactly where you wanted to be, in the meticulously recreated Colonial town where so much early American history took place. Alycia shivered with relief at having arrived at a reasonable explanation for her present situation. Of course, there were still the nagging questions of how she had gotten from the accident site to where she now was: why she had glimpsed blue sky and leafy trees through the coach window; why she was ensconced inside this torture chamber of a coach and not an ambulance, and where these nice people had come up with the name Alice, when her own name was clearly printed on her driver’s license. Come to that, what had happened to her car?
First things first, Alycia advised herself, inching her eyelids up a smidgen higher. The rather attractive, if slightly portly, man was frowning at her with fierce concern. The plump, soft-looking woman was nervously biting her lip. Hoping to ease their obvious anxiety, Alycia again struggled to sit up.
