by Beverly Long
She wouldn’t. Melody would stick pins in her eyes if that was what it took to stay awake. But that wouldn’t be necessary. He’d had a lot of time to think during the night, a lot of time to decide what was right. “I’m generally awake early,” he said. “Maybe I could be of some help.”
She jerked her hand out of his. “What are you saying, George?”
He could feel the back of his shirt get damp with his own sweat. “What I’m saying is that I’d like to help you with your daughter.”
He’d hoped that she would be happy. Had at the least expected that she’d be grateful. He wasn’t prepared when she narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t have that much money,” she said, her voice flat. “I can’t afford to pay you to stay.”
He felt the fresh rush of anger and maybe if he’d had any sleep, he’d have been able to handle it. But that wasn’t the case. He stood up, his movements jerky. “The hell with your money,” he said. “Damn you. I’m not offering myself up for sale.”
She pushed herself up in the bed, almost to the point of sitting up. Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “Just what the hell are you offering, George?”
Everything he had. Which wasn’t much. He sat down hard on the chair. “The truth is Melody, that I don’t have a lot to offer you. And I wouldn’t blame you for telling me that you’re holding out for a better proposition.” He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths. When he opened them, she was staring at him like he was some kind of crazy person.
It would have been easy to stop but he’d started this and he damned well planned to finish it. “But if you’ll have me, I’d like to stay on as your husband. I’d like to help you raise your daughter.”
She made some kind of noise, like a small squeak. But she didn’t say anything. He reached for her hand but she pulled her arm back.
And he felt his heart break. She didn’t want him. “Melody,” he said. “Please—”
“Why?” she interrupted. “Why do you want to stay now when you’ve been so determined to go?”
It wasn’t an easy answer. He’d had hours to think about what it would mean if he stayed. He’d be giving up everything that he knew and living in a time that was still so very strange to him. But then he’d thought about what he’d told John Beckett when John was being bullheaded about loving Sarah. He’d told him that he’d give anything to have another day with Hannah.
That wasn’t to be and he’d come to accept it. But it had dawned on him during the middle of the night that he was making the same mistake twice. And while he’d never been a great book learner, he’d always figured he had some common sense, so the knowledge of what he was doing hit him hard.
He was giving up days. Days that could be shared with Melody. Days that could be filled with love. Days that could lead into a lifetime.
“I asked you why,” she said, startling him out of his thoughts.
He couldn’t tell her everything. Not when the doctor had warned them about her blood pressure, that she should avoid sudden shocks or stresses. Learning that he had traveled from 1888 would certainly qualify.
He’d tell her soon, right after the baby was born. For now, he’d tell her the one thing that he could. “I love you,” he said.
She opened her mouth.
“I didn’t plan on it, I didn’t want to,” he continued. “But I do. And I hope in time that you’ll come to love me back and that we’ll raise our daughter and maybe give her a brother or a sister.”
She started to cry. Big, fat tears rolled down her smooth cheeks.
“Please, no,” he begged. He didn’t want her upset. That’s what he was trying to avoid. “We can talk about this later. Or never, if that’s what you want.”
“Come here,” she said.
He scooted his chair closer. She shook her head and then moved in her bed so that she was hugging the side. She patted the empty space in the bed next to her. “No. Here.”
What was she thinking? Nurses had been coming in and out all night without warning. “I can’t get into bed with you.”
Her lips trembled. “I just want you to hold me.”
Oh, hell. He lowered the railing on the bed, the way he’d seen the nurse do it. The he carefully climbed in next to her. He lay on his side and he slipped his arm under her shoulder and gently pulled her close. “Like this?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she said, sounding happy for the first time.
It was. And he told himself that if she never learned to love him but she at least wanted his touch, that it would have to be enough.
After several minutes, she lifted her head. “What time is it?”
The question surprised him but he turned his head to see the clock. “Just before five. Why?”
“Because there’s been enough time.”
He was confused. “What?”
“You said that in time you hoped I would come to love you. Well, I do. Very much.”
And he wasn’t too tired to realize that she’d played him perfectly. He’d said once that she was sunshine and sugar and a hot drink on a cold day. She was also laughter and joy, the things that made life good. “You’re going to be a handful,” he said.
“You’re right,” she agreed and snuggled closer to him. “You better rest up.”
He closed his eyes and let the sleep come.
***
Melody looked out the car window, grateful to be going home. However, if George didn’t stop treating her like she was some kind of fragile glass that was about to break at any minute, she was going to scream.
When she’d awoken in the hospital shortly after eight in the morning, his side of the bed had been empty. But he’d been sitting in his chair. He’d stood up, leaned over her bed, and given her a brief kiss.
It had been wholly unsatisfying.
Then there’d been hours filled with nurses coming in, then the doctor, then the person in charge of getting her dressed to go home had appeared. By a little after ten, she’d been wheeled down to the lobby and had gone from sitting in the wheelchair to sitting in the back of her grandmother’s car. Arturo was driving and George sat next to her.
But he hadn’t touched her in two hours. Had barely looked at her.
When Arturo pulled into her grandmother’s driveway, she leaned forward in her seat. “Thank you for coming to get us,” she said.
“I’m happy to do it,” Arturo replied, looking in the rearview mirror. “I have been looking for—”
“Let’s get you upstairs,” George said to her, interrupting Arturo. He got out on his side and practically ran around the car to open her door. Then the house door opened and Grandmother, Aunt Genevieve, and Tilly came out.
Her grandmother walked with crutches with Tilly close to her side. “Don’t try the steps,” Melody called out. “I’ll come to you.”
She hugged each one in turn, even Tilly. “How are you?” she asked her grandmother.
Her grandmother’s eyes were warm. “Fine. Now that you’re home and I can see for myself that you’re all right.” She turned to George who’d followed her up the stairs. “I imagine you could use some sleep,” she said.
“I got a couple hours,” he said.
He had. He’d fallen asleep almost immediately after crawling into that narrow hospital bed with her. She’d lain there, staying awake as long as she could, and watched him sleep. “I think I’m going to go upstairs for a nap,” she said. “Maybe I can convince him to take one, too.”
Aunt Genevieve looked at Grandmother. “Maybe you can do the same now that she’s here.”
Grandmother smiled at her sister. “I’ve been driving them crazy all morning. All right. Come on in. We’ll all take naps.”
Melody was going upstairs but she didn’t plan on sleeping.
“I’ll walk you upstairs,” George said.
Great. As long as she got him there.
When they got upstairs, George walked immediately over to the bed and pulled back the sheet and blanket. Then he fluffed up her pil
low. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Oh for goodness’ sake, George. I thought the job you signed on for this morning was husband, not maid. I swear, if you have chocolate mints in your pocket, I’m going for your throat.”
He looked at her like he expected her to start foaming at the mouth.
She was close. But really, how much was a woman expected to take?
“You’re tired,” he said, valiantly trying to excuse her behavior. “You should get some rest.”
She took a step forward. He took a step backward.
Great. Now, she had him running. “Stay here with me,” she pleaded.
He shook his head. “I have to talk to Arturo. It’s important.”
It didn’t take a genius to have figured out that George had enlisted Arturo’s help in trying to identify the man who’d run her off the road. She had to admit that it was a smart move. Knowing George, she doubted he could think of anything else until he got the full report. “Fine. But come back. I need to tell you something,” she said. “It’s important.”
“Tell me now,” he said. “I’ve got time if it’s that important.”
He did not have nearly enough time for what she had in mind. “No. It can wait.” Barely. “Just come back as soon as you can.”
The door was hardly shut behind him before she started taking off her clothes. She walked into the bathroom, turned the shower on, stepped in, and took one of the fastest showers of her life. She did slow down when she shaved her legs because she thought it might put a damper on things if she nicked a major artery.
She got out, dried off, put lotion on, and then pulled back the sheet and blanket even further. Then she lay down on the bed, as naked as the day she was born. She was practically panting with the exertion.
Ten minutes later, when the door opened and George walked in, the look on his face was worth the effort.
“Mother of God,” he said. He stared at her, stunned. After a long minute, where the temperature in the room seemed to heat up fast, he had the presence of mind to shut the door behind him.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked. He spoke softly, calmly, like he didn’t want to startle her. It was more of the same of what she’d been enduring for the last two hours. He was being careful with her.
She wanted to hurt someone. Badly. “Yes,” she said, her voice just as calm.
“Maybe you should get dressed, then.”
It was like he was talking to a small child. And he still hadn’t moved.
She was done trying to make this easy for him.
She spread her legs. And then she touched herself. Delicately. Deliberately.
She smiled when he made a sound just shy of pain. “Stop that,” he said. He sounded breathless and needy.
It was all the encouragement she needed. She did it again.
This time there was no sound. But she could see his face. The man wasn’t doing well. He was pale and he’d leaned back against the door, like he perhaps needed something to keeping him braced up.
She went for the goal shot. “If you’re not going to be of any assistance, then I think I’m going to have to take care of matters myself,” she said. “But you can watch,” she added.
She took her hands, cupped a breast in each, and rubbed the pad of her thumb across the nipple.
He closed his eyes and looked up to the ceiling, like he was appealing to a higher power. “From the minute I dragged her out of the ocean, I knew she was going to be trouble,” he muttered.
She’d been a cakewalk up to this point. “What’s it going to be, George?” she prodded. “Are you a watcher or a doer?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
He covered the distance between the door and the bed fast enough but once he was there, he took his time. He stood over her and looked down. He started with her face, then almost inch by inch, his gaze traveled her naked body.
And it dawned on her that the balance of power had shifted. She forced herself to lie still, her hands at her side.
It was the most intimate thing she’d ever experienced. It was the middle of the day, the room was bursting with sunshine, and she was watching the man she loved devour her with his eyes.
Her breasts felt tight and moisture gathered between her legs. Her skin felt super-sensitive, like she could feel every thread in the sheet that she lay on.
He was so quiet that she wasn’t sure he was even breathing. Finally, he licked his dry lips. “You are the most beautiful woman.”
She realized that he’d always made her feel beautiful, that his eyes had always told her how much he desired her.
“But I am afraid,” he added.
His honesty touched her heart and she knew if she hadn’t loved him before, that would have done it. She reached for his hand. His skin was warm and the light dusting of hair tickled her palm. She laced her fingers with his. “I know. But you don’t need to be. I won’t break.”
“I don’t want to hurt you or your child.”
“We’ll take it slow,” she promised and pulled him to the bed.
***
When George woke up, the afternoon sun was well over to the west. He looked at the clock on the bedside table and saw that it was just after five.
He’d spent the afternoon making love to Melody. She’d lied to him. They hadn’t taken it slow. It might have started that way, as they’d learned each other’s bodies, as they’d discovered the little touches that delighted the other, but in the end, he’d lain on his back and she’d settled her warmth on him and he’d been a lost man.
The second time had been much the same and then finally, the third time, she’d let him watch. Until, of course, he’d been compelled to take over at the end.
He couldn’t remember being happier. She’d been generous and giving and even now, as she lay sleeping in his arms, her back pressed up to his front, he felt himself stiffen.
Would there ever be a time when he didn’t want her desperately? But he knew she was tired, knew that her body had to be craving rest.
He slipped his arm from underneath her and rolled to the side of the bed. Then he walked toward the bath, picking up the clothes he’d tossed earlier.
“What time is it?” she asked.
He turned around. Her eyes were open but she hadn’t moved. “It’s after five,” he said. “I’m going to get cleaned up and go downstairs.” Earlier Arturo had had no news for him but the man had intended to spend the afternoon in town. George had wanted to go, too, but Arturo had explained that he would be at places that would welcome him but would only consider George an outsider. People would scatter, leads would vanish.
“I don’t think I’m going to make dinner,” she said. “Will you make my excuses to Grandmother?” She stretched and the sheet fell below her breasts.
They were lovely and he couldn’t help staring.
She shook her head. “Don’t get used to these. They’re almost a size bigger than normal.”
He couldn’t resist teasing her. “So after you have your child, it will be like making love to a different woman?”
She reached over, grabbed his pillow off the bed, and threw it at him. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to get out of this bed,” she said.
He was lucky. Damn lucky. He’d turned his back on love but she’d managed to find a way into his heart. “I’ll tell your grandmother that you’re still sleeping,” he said.
She smiled. “Why don’t you tell her the truth? That you spent the afternoon ravishing my body?” She sat up suddenly, causing the sheet to fall below her very sexy stomach. “No, wait,” she said. “Save that for Tilly. But wait until I’m there to see her reaction.”
She was something. “I’ve said it before but it’s never been more true: You’ve no shame.”
She winked at him. “You weren’t complaining earlier.”
“I’m not stupid, Melody.”
She looked very satisfied and she lay back in the bed. But then her expression changed and she looked serious. She turne
d toward him and propped her body up on one elbow. “I suppose it’s a little late to ask but there’s nothing I need to know about you, right? I mean, I told you about Alexander and how he sort of just forgot to tell me about his wife and two children. I can’t make that mistake again.”
This was his chance. He could tell her everything. About Sarah and the footprints. That he’d been born in 1854.
She should avoid sudden shocks or other stressful situations.
It was as if the doctor was in the room, standing at his shoulder. How could he tell her the truth? Her life. Her child’s life. They both hung in the balance.
He looked her in the eye. “You know everything about me that’s important to know,” he said.
Her pretty violet eyes cleared. She settled back on the pillow. He walked into the bath and had almost closed the door when he heard her say, “I know one thing you never mentioned. You’ve got a very nice ass.”
***
Arturo’s news was unsettling. There was talk of a man, recently arrived from Mexico who had been bragging in one of the saloons that he was soon going to be rich. That he’d met a gringo who needed some business taken care of. They told Arturo that they’d seen this man driving a light blue truck with a darker blue side panel.
Nobody claimed to have seen the truck or the man for several days. Arturo had left word that they should call him if the man showed again.
It was nothing more than what the police already knew, so George did not feel compelled to tell them. Plus, he knew that if the authorities started snooping around at the saloon, Arturo’s sources would dry up faster than a creek in July. Arturo had trusted him once. Now he needed to trust that Arturo knew what he was doing.
Dinner was a quiet affair. Bernard was absent again and Louis and Tilly hardly said a word to anyone. Both of them drank several glass of wine, and he noticed that Tilly especially looked very tired. Pearl accepted without question the news that Melody was sleeping and made pleasant conversation with him throughout the meal.
