The Enchanted Inn

by Pam Champagne

  Gina ran to hug him. Suddenly, staying in the inn and finding a way home paled in comparison to staying safe. “I love you. We’ll look today, and if we come up empty, we’ll leave before the light of day.”

  He gently pulled her into his arms, and his lips caressed her eyelids. “I agree.”

  Gina pressed her face against his chest, the position bringing her gaze toward the hearth’s slow-burning fire. “Oh. My. God.”

  John stiffened. “What is it?”

  Gina’s eyes remained riveted on the yellow cat sitting in front of the hearth, licking its paws. She backed away and pointed at the feline who held her gaze as if daring her to argue with his right to be in the inn.

  With a shrug, John started toward the fur ball. “The barn is full of cats. Shoo! Out!”

  “No, John,” Gina yelped, taking hold of his arm. “I know that cat. It’s Ruth McPherson’s cat. Or was her cat at one time,” she amended.

  “Please,” John muttered, his face taking on a pained look. “Not now. There is no time to deal with your delusions.”

  The cat hissed at his stalker and made a beeline for the open shelves under the counter with Gina in hot pursuit.

  “Rachel! Stop this nonsense!”

  She took no notice of John’s protests and dove after the cat. “Ouch.” She spluttered a few curses when she banged her head. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she scanned the inside, surprised at how much storage area there was under the counters. Stretching out her arms, she groped for the cat. Her fingers touched fur. “Yes!” Faster than Gina could blink, the cat slipped out of her grip, leaving her hands on a small wooden keg.

  “Come out of there, Rachel. Or I swear I’ll drag you out. The cat has bolted through the open door.”

  A giggle slipped from her throat. “You sound like my father, not my lover.”

  “I mean it.”

  Curious about the wooden cask, Gina inched her way backwards, dragging her prize. Excitement brought a roar to her ears, and it had nothing to do with John’s questing fingers under her dress. Carved into the wood was RM. Her hands shook so hard, she had difficulty removing the cover. One whiff convinced her. Elderberry wine.

  A jolt of electricity shot through her when John’s finger entered the slit in her pantaloons. “Hey!”

  “Your position puts thoughts in my head. Come out so we can continue our quest.”

  “Coming.” And she would be if he didn’t stop. She pushed the keg as far back as she could and slid out. The indenture papers no longer mattered. Her catastrophic, muddled life was about to change. Tonight, she’d drink a few glasses of wine and wham! She’d be home.

  John was going, too, whether he agreed or not.

  * * *

  Candle flames flickered and cast jumping elongated shadows on the walls. Gina snuggled into the mattress and watched them dance, imagining the shapes to be all sorts of things from stars to monsters, while she waited for John. She’d convinced William to move to another room, determined tonight to give her best attempt to return to 2006. Same wine, same room. All she needed now was the same man. Where the hell was John?

  Her gaze moved to the large pewter mugs sitting on the bedside table, both full of elderberry wine. If after drinking it she didn’t wake up in the future where she belonged, then so be it.

  She hugged her knees to her chest and reflected on her time spent in this century. An indentured servant owned by a serial killer and in love with the stable boy. Gina grinned. Not a bad place to visit, but she didn’t want to live here. An adventure she’d cherish—as soon as she was home.

  Gina buzzed with happiness. Not much different than the buzz she’d get from drinking alcohol. If she woke tomorrow morning and was still here in 1778, she’d make the best of the situation. Keep trying until the wine was gone and then move on with her life. Regardless of being here or back in the present, she and John had a future together. It was up to them to make the best of the situation.

  She rolled off the bed and shed the cumbersome clothes, hopefully for the last time. Down to her chemise, she hesitated, and then decided to keep it on. Sex was the last thing on her mind tonight. No sense whetting John’s appetite. They should be dead to the world minutes after ingesting the wine.

  Heavy footsteps on the stairs nabbed her attention. Someone going down, not coming up. It had to be William on his way to visit Amy. What would he and Amy think when they found she and John had disappeared? Or would this whole scene disappear with them? Perhaps William and Amy and this inn never actually existed. Just part of the stage setting rigged by Ruth McPherson.

  Gina shook off her confusing thoughts. Tonight she had to put all her focus and concentration on getting home. She walked to the table and ran her forefinger around the lip of the pewter mug.

  “Ready for bed already?”

  Gina whirled around, almost knocking the wine on the floor. She steadied it. “You startled me.”

  John crossed the room and kissed behind her ear. “Sorry. Dare I hope you were lost in thoughts about me?”

  Gina tilted back her head, enjoying his mouth on her skin. “Who else?”

  John moved away, stood by the window and threaded his fingers through his hair. “We have to pack. Now. Tonight. I am afraid to stay and risk the chance that the new proprietors will arrive with your indenture papers in hand.”

  “Come,” she coaxed and patted the bed beside where she sat. “Sit down and drink some wine. Let’s relax tonight. We don’t have much to pack so we can leave at a moment’s notice. Before dawn tomorrow, if you like.”

  “I like your idea of relaxing, except I do not care for wine. I will go downstairs and pour myself a glass of ale.”

  Gina grasped his arm. “No!” She softened her voice at his surprised expression. “I mean, please share the wine with me. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  John’s mouth winched into a cunning smile. “Are you promising me what I think you are?”

  She ran her finger down his arm. “That’s for you to find out. Once we finish our wine.” She tugged his shirt upwards. “Take off your clothes so there’ll be nothing between us except skin against skin.”

  Breathing raggedly, John stripped and left his clothes in the middle of the floor. Stark naked, he sank onto the mattress next to her. Gina reached around in front of him and plucked one mug off the table.

  She licked her bottom lip and gazed at him. “Toast?”

  John hoisted his mug, lightly tapped hers and drank deeply of the sweet purple liquid. And then coughed. “What is this putrid liquid? No,” he hollered and tried to stop her from taking a drink. “’Tis poison. Never have I tasted anything so foul.”

  Gina scooted out of his reach and drained her mug, then tossed it on the floor. She launched herself at him and pulled him down onto the mattress. “Relax. All will be fine.”

  An unseen force pressed her into the mattress as she spiraled down a dark tunnel. Next to her, John struggled to rise. She tightened her arms around him.

  “Rachel, please. What is happening? I cannot breathe.”

  His gasps for air frightened her. “Remember that I love you. Trust—” The world went black.

  Chapter Eleven

  The wind whining in the chimney roused Luke from a restless sleep. A quick glance at the window brought a shudder. Snow swirled, pinging as it hit the glass pane. Each time he exhaled, white vapor streamed from his nose. What had happened to the heat? He yawned and rolled to his side, startled to feel a soft body that radiated enough heat to warm his chilled skin. His heart lurched. Gina? He tried to concentrate. How had he ended up sharing a bed with his lost love? Last night she couldn’t stand the sight of him. Now she lay next to him, her lips curved into a smile. The black dress she’d worn last night was rumpled and twisted up around her waist, exposing enough flesh to raise the room’s temperature ten degrees.

  Like the tide, bits and pieces of memory ebbed and flowed. Ruth McPherson’s elderberry wine! More like poisonberry. He and
Gina had drunk the wine, waiting for the evening meal, and must have passed out. That part of the evening was crystal clear. Yet, that didn’t explain how they’d ended up in this bed together.

  And man, what a freaking dream. He and Gina had been working together in an inn back in Paul Revere’s day. A shake of his head did nothing to wipe away the tangled web.

  A flash of memory turned his blood cold. Murder. There’d been a serial killer in the dream. The FDA should ban whatever ingredients Ruth put in that batch of wine.

  The urge to caress Gina’s cheek welled from within. He reached out, but withdrew his hand before making contact. If she woke, this special moment would be over. She’d jump off the bed and whip him with the same bitter tirade he’d heard more times than he cared to recall.

  He took a deep breath and filled his tight, burning lungs with cool air.

  Without warning, Gina sat upright and opened her eyes. She cried out and collapsed back onto the pillow.

  Luke propped himself on his elbow and leaned closer. “Gina? Are you all right?”

  “Other than a jackhammer in my head determined to destroy a few brain cells, I’m fine.”

  He chuckled and risked brushing a wisp of hair away from her forehead. “That wine was powerful shit.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and he lost himself in the fiery depths of her eyes. “John!”

  It took him a moment before he realized she’d called him by another man’s name. He frowned. “Who the hell is John?”

  “You are,” she said without hesitation. “I was Rachel. Don’t you remember?”

  Luke’s temple began to throb, while his left cheek developed a twitch. Rachel. The woman in his dream. The one who looked like Gina. Fear curled low in his belly. He pushed upright and took her by the shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ouch. Let go. My head is splitting. Time traveling, along with that horrible wine, has left me with one mother of a headache.”

  He tightened his grip. “Time traveling? Have you lost your mind?”

  Gina grinned. “That’s exactly what you asked me when we arrived in 1778.”

  He shoved his shaking hands under the covers. “I had a dream. That’s all. Apparently, you had the same one.”

  Gina raised her hand and stroked his face. The soft concern in her eyes scared the hell out of him. “It was no dream. Check your hands. For that matter, look at mine.”

  Slowly, he pulled out his hands and stared at the palms for long moments. Since his job of advising clients on the best way to invest their money didn’t involve physical labor, there wasn’t a logical explanation for how his hands and fingers had become callused and rough. He didn’t need to look at Gina’s. He’d felt their coarseness when she’d caressed his face. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to admit he and Gina had traveled back in time. He plopped on his back and concentrated on the ceiling.

  Gina snuggled close, her hand stealing across his abdomen. “It’s all true, Luke. Only for some reason you didn’t remember the present. You thought I was your lover, Rachel.”

  The tic in his cheek grew stronger. “So you made love with a stranger?”

  Her nails dug into his side. “Of course not! John was not only your double, he had the same birthmark. I knew it was you. At first I didn’t understand why Ruth McPherson—”

  Luke rolled to his side so he faced her. “You think Ruth sent us winging our way into the past?”

  “Her wine did. That’s how we got back here. I found some of her elderberry wine made in 1728. We drank it and poof. Here we are.”

  Another wave of remembrance hit him. He and Rachel drinking wine and the frightening feeling that he was going to die. “Why would she do that?”

  “To teach me a lesson.”

  He reined his desire to kiss her and forced himself to relax and listen to her story. “This I’ve got to hear.”

  “Do you remember that you found me in bed with William?”

  He shifted, uncomfortable with the unwanted vision of Gina lying on the bed with a strange man. “Somewhat,” he mumbled.

  “Well, she sent us back so I’d realize how wrong I’d been to jump to conclusions on the day of our wedding. She was right. I should have listened to you…let you explain—like you heard me out about William and believed my explanation.”

  He placed a finger across her lips. “Enough, Gina. It doesn’t matter.”

  She yanked his hand away. “But it does. I want your forgiveness. I’ve never stopped loving you. Tell me we can start over.”

  * * *

  Gina bit her bottom lip. Tendrils of dread threaded through her belly. Why didn’t he say something? Anything? Was it too late?

  Embarrassed at her outburst, she moved away. His words rather than his hand on her arm halted her. “I still love you. I always have. The woman in my bed was the stripper my so-called friends had hired for the bachelor party. I was three sheets to the wind by the end of the party and they dragged me up to bed. Thought it’d be funny to see me wake up with her the next morning.” He paused. “Some fucking joke. It cost us seven years of our lives together.”

  Gina turned back to face him. In a sudden move, he placed fleeting kisses on her neck. His breath hot against her skin and the warmth of his body chased away her chills.

  “I need you,” he whispered.

  His hold tightened as he pulled her closer. Thrilled to be back in his arms, she burrowed into his embrace and breathed deeply of his special scent. Not store bought, but his own, which always reminded her of being outdoors in the winter. Crisp and clean. Now was the time to fill the emptiness left by all the years they’d been apart.

  With a low groan, he cupped her face, lowered his mouth, only to stop a mere tantalizing inch from her anxious lips. “Look at me,” he murmured. Her stomach somersaulted. When his mouth closed over hers, any remaining hurts and misunderstandings vanished. Happiness bubbled like heart palpitations in her chest as their tongues became reacquainted.

  To make love with the man she adored when he actually remembered who she was made her tremble.

  “Hey. You act as if you haven’t been cavorting in the hay with me for the past several weeks.” Luke pulled away and studied her face. “I’m curious. How did you put up with me as John? Not knowing who you were? My memory tells me I was quite a jackass.”

  “Actually, you didn’t know how to have sex.” She trailed a finger down his face. “Well, at least not the modern way.”

  Luke chuckled. “I recollect that you were quite the instructor.”

  “I will have you now, Rachel,” Gina mimicked in a gravelly voice.

  Luke rolled atop her. “Stop. I’m cringing at the memory. Let me love you in the modern way.”

  Gina waited for his foreplay with anticipation. When his knee nudged between her legs and he thrust into her, she tried to sit up.

  “Quiet,” he growled. “I will have you now and won’t take no for an answer.”

  Her giggle got lost in his mouth. He pushed her knees toward her chest and had his way. Charges of pleasure shot through her body as she climaxed. A few moments later Luke followed suit.

  “Sorry for the rush,” he gasped, burrowing his face in her neck. “I needed you. I still think I’ll wake up and find this is all a dream.

  She kneaded the tense muscles in his back. “It is no dream. We can begin our life together as soon as we leave here.”

  “Are you on the pill?” Luke whispered, his fingers making delicious trails on her neck.

  She felt his cock growing. She choked back a laugh. “No. And we didn’t use precautions during the few months we spent in 1778. Maybe I’m already pregnant.”

  Luke pulled away and rolled off the bed. “Months? Is it now February twenty-fifth?”

  In a sexual haze, Gina pushed up onto an elbow to watch Luke frantically pull on his pants. “I don’t know. What does it matter? Where are you going?”

  “Downstairs. Something’s not right. There’s no heat, so I hav
e a feeling our gracious host has skipped out.” He stopped halfway across the room and pivoted. “Get dressed. The sooner we’re out of here, the better I’ll feel.”

  She sprinted off the mattress and haphazardly stuffed her belongings into the overnight bag. Then she pulled everything out to find the jeans and sweater she’d worn when she’d arrived.

  After one last look around the room, Gina hooked the bag over her shoulder. Weird, but she felt a sense of loss at leaving. She opened the door and collided with a frazzled-looking Luke. She curled her fingers around his wrist. “Is everything okay?”

  “The place is deserted and cold as a damn barn. There’s no evidence we shared a cozy evening drinking wine. The dust is half an inch thick on the furniture.” He scanned the room. “Are you ready?”

  At her nod, he hustled her down the staircase. “By the way. I went outside. Your car won’t start, so we’ll leave it and take my Escapade. You can call the rental agency and tell them where to pick it up.”

  Gina shivered at the cold, stagnant air at the bottom of the steps. “Damn woman. Where is she? I wanted to thank her.”

  Luke’s eyes widened. “Thank her? I’d like to wring her neck.”

  Hands on her hips, Gina glared. “How can you say that? If she hadn’t interfered, we’d still be walking separate paths.”

  “I suppose,” Luke conceded. “Still, she put us through hell.”

  “I disagree. We had the experience of a lifetime. How many people have the opportunity to spend time in another century?”

  “Only you would have that attitude. How could I have forgotten what an adventurer you are? The times your pranks and ideas of fun almost landed us in jail?”

  “That’s one of the things you love about me.”

  He gently cuffed her chin. “You’re right. Life with you was never boring.”

  “It might be fun to—”

  Luke yanked her forward toward the door. “No! Don’t even think it. This place has caused us enough trouble.”