witches of cleopatra hill 06 - spellbound
Page 30
He gasped, “Danica — ”
“It’s all right, Robert,” she whispered. “I want this. I want to be with you like this.”
That reply seemed to kill any protests he might make, and he said nothing as she slid down his pants, then grasped the waistband of his underwear and pulled it down as well. He sprang free, hard and ready, and she wrapped her hand around his shaft, moving slowly up and down.
He groaned, then stumbled backward to fall onto the bed. She loved seeing him like that, his lean, muscled body sprawled out across the quilt. In her mind, she’d tried to imagine what he would look like naked, but the reality was so much better than any fantasy her mind could manufacture, from the firmness of his biceps to his narrow waist and strong legs.
Time to join him, though. She slipped off her bra and stepped out of her skirt, then lay down next to him. Immediately he reached for her, his naked body pressed to hers, the heat of him warming her to her very core. Yes, there was his mouth closing on her breast, even as his hand moved over her hip, slipped down inside her underwear, moved into her, stroking gently.
A cry escaped her lips, and she surrendered herself to the sensation, to the way he seemed to know just how to touch her. And this was what she needed — gentleness, someone giving instead of always taking.
Waves of heat washed over her, and she let herself ride those waves, let them carry her to a climax that seemed to explode through every nerve ending, every artery and vein. She clung to him as she rode it out, knowing she needed this release, needed his touch to erase the last memories of Matías Escobar and what he’d done to her.
“Danica.” Her name was a whisper of need, and she rolled over to face Robert, to kiss him again, and then once more trail those kisses all the way down to his cock, to take him in her mouth and show him how much she did want this, how much she wanted him.
He gasped, hands softly pushing her hair away from her face so he could see her, watch her. She could feel how hard he was, how on edge, and she stopped after a moment, went to him so she could settle herself on him, feel him fill her deeply, completely.
A moan that seemed to come from somewhere at the very center of his being, and then he began to rock into her, his hands reaching to cup her breasts, to caress her. So wonderful, so amazing, so perfect and intense and incredible that she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming.
From the way he was gazing up at her in adoration, it seemed Robert was thinking the same thing. His breaths came more quickly, and she knew he was getting close. Good, because so was she. She held on to his hands as he held her and she rode him, both of them moving as one, in a perfect rhythm that she’d never thought could be possible until that moment.
And then the climax hit him, taking her with it, her own orgasm seeming to be an answer to his, and she collapsed on him, her breaths almost sobs as she tried to understand where this had come from, why it had taken a hundred years for them to create this perfect joining.
His hand moved down her hair to her tangled braid. “I love you, Danica.”
“I love you, Robert.”
He pulled her to him then, kissing her fiercely, kissing her as if she was the only real thing in his world. Maybe right then she was.
* * *
They slept in one another’s arms, and though he seemed a little reserved the next morning, Danica chalked that up to coming to grips with the realization that he hadn’t “ruined” her by sleeping with her. Certainly he appeared in good spirits as he helped make the coffee, although he said there wasn’t much effort involved when all you had to do was push a couple of buttons.
“Well, we’ve got a cowboy-style pot around here somewhere if you really want to get back to basics,” she teased him, and he shook his head and said he’d be all right trying it the modern way.
“After all,” he added, “I need to get used to doing things the way everyone does them now.”
During breakfast, though, he didn’t say much. Danica began to fret, wondering if she had pushed him to intimacy too soon. After all, he’d only been here in the modern world for a day. He could still be somewhat shell-shocked…and she imagined his reactions would only intensify once he was away from the quiet, sheltered idyll this cabin provided.
But then he said, “How did you know for sure?”
“Know what?”
“That I really had died? Samuel — that is, my wound wasn’t directly in my heart. Men have survived wounds like that before.”
She could lie. But she really didn’t want to. She’d done enough lying back in 1884. Making herself meet his eyes, she said, “I found your grave.”
He didn’t blink. “Where?”
She sighed and set down her coffee mug. “Let me show you.”
* * *
The hike didn’t seem to trouble him at all, which meant that he was, to all intents and purposes, healed. Danica led him up the path to the clearing she had found, and to the sycamore with its little cairn of smooth river stones and the cross cut into its bark.
Only…it wasn’t there. Or rather, the tree stood where it always had, but there were no stones, no pale cross on the weathered lower section of the tree’s trunk.
“It was right there,” she said, pointing.
Robert moved closer and peered at the spot she’d indicated. “I don’t see anything.”
“That’s because it’s gone.”
He didn’t seem too concerned. In fact, he turned toward her and smiled. “That’s good, then, isn’t it? You might not have prevented Samuel Wilcox from shooting me, but you got me away from that place. There was no one to bury because I came here.”
“I — I suppose so.” That did make sense. After all, how could Robert’s grave be there when he was standing right here, talking to her?
As she gave an abstracted nod, he came over to her and kissed her gently on the cheek. “You did save me, Danica. I’ve seen those worried glances you’ve given me when you thought I wasn’t looking. You were wondering how I would adapt to this world, this time…weren’t you?”
She nodded, not sure if she trusted herself to speak.
He was silent as well, as if considering the best way to phrase what he wanted to say next. For a long moment, he gazed up into the trees, whispering their own secrets into the wind, and the cloud-studded blue sky overhead. “But I know I will adapt, because I know you’ll be there with me, helping me along that way. You’ve given me a second chance. How many men ever get that chance?”
Not many, she thought. Jeremiah Wilcox would, decades after his death. But that was probably cold comfort to a man who would have to spend the rest of his life alone.
She knew she shouldn’t be thinking of Jeremiah then. His story was in the past, while hers and Robert’s was yet to be written.
Without replying, she went to him and put her arms around his waist. He embraced her then, holding her close, warm and real and so very much alive.
His words came close to her ear, “So let’s go, my love. It’s time to leave the cabin, don’t you think?”
She hesitated. It still felt too soon. After all, what was she supposed to do…have him move in with her at her parents’ house? That wouldn’t work at all, even after they overcame the shock of truly comprehending where their daughter’s new boyfriend had come from.
But she and Robert had this cabin, though, and could use it until they found something better. Not an apartment, but a house, maybe one of the refurbished Victorians near Flagstaff’s downtown section, not too far from where Mrs. Wilson’s boarding house had once stood. Then Robert could be surrounded by the old and the new at the same time, and maybe the transition wouldn’t be quite so jarring for him.
For now, though, if he wanted to see what had become of Flagstaff, of the greater world, then she wouldn’t prevent him from doing so. After all, he’d have to come to terms with his new reality sooner or later. She went on her tiptoes and hugged him again, holding on tightly, knowing that soon she’d have to share him with her family, he
r friends.
“All right, Robert,” she said. “Let me show you this brave new world.”
The End
* * *
The Witches of Cleopatra Hill series continues with A Cleopatra Hill Christmas, available here, and Impractical Magic, due out in the spring of 2016. Sign up here to be notified about all of Christine Pope’s new titles!
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Writing a story set in the past of a real place is always a challenge. Working with the records of a town like Flagstaff, which really was the Wild West back in the 1880s, is even more of a challenge. In Spellbound, I did my best to blend the world of nineteenth-century Flagstaff with the world of my witch clans. Some of the people you read about in the novel — Mrs. Marshall, Reverend Pierce, Mr. Brannen — did truly exist, although some license was taken to give the school two teachers, while the Methodist church was actually built a year or so later than depicted here. Other people and locations were invented, although I tried to make sure I didn’t write anything that would have been hugely out of place during the period.
My thanks to Platt Cline, who wrote Mountain Town and They Came to the Mountain, for providing much-needed research material on Flagstaff’s early years. Any errors here, or license taken, are purely my own.
Christine Pope
Sedona, Arizona
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ALSO BY CHRISTINE POPE
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(Paranormal Romance)
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Darknight
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A Cleopatra Hill Christmas
* * *
THE DJINN WARS
(Paranormal Romance)
Chosen
Taken
Fallen
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THE SEDONA FILES
(Paranormal Romance)
Bad Vibrations
Desert Hearts
Angel Fire
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The first three books of this series are also available in an omnibus edition at a special low price!
* * *
TALES OF THE LATTER KINGDOMS
(Fantasy Romance)
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Dragon Rose
Binding Spell
Ashes of Roses
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THE GAIAN CONSORTIUM SERIES
(Science Fiction Romance)
Breath of Life
Blood Will Tell
The Gaia Gambit
The Mandala Maneuver
The Titan Trap
The Zhore Deception
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christine Pope has been writing stories ever since she commandeered her family’s Smith-Corona typewriter back in the sixth grade. Her work includes paranormal romance, and fantasy romance, and science fiction/space opera romance. She fell in love with Sedona, Arizona, while researching the Sedona Files and now makes her home there, surrounded by the red rocks. No alien sightings, though...not yet, anyway!
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Christine Pope on the Web:
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
The Witches of Cleopatra Hill
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Author’s Note
If You Enjoyed This Book…
Also by Christine Pope
About the Author