Pity she’d stumbled onto this place. There was a good chance if she kept going the way she’d been traveling, she’d find the body of his brother.
William had brought him here a few months ago to show him something—he’d discovered a hidden door to the City of Gold. Pity he’d decided to kill William before he’d opened the stone door to discover another empty room instead of the fabled city or a route to it. The passageway was here somewhere. Will had told him he’d seen it—that it would take him to something unbelievable. He’d yet to find it, so he’d gone back to London to secure the help of the foremost expert in the field, Henry Dodge. The bonus? Dodge had taught his lovely daughter all he knew and brought her along to document the expedition.
All his trips into the jungle to search, using the excuse of procuring game as a cover, had yet to pay off. Instead, he’d decided to lead the party toward the sunken city and, hopefully, the secret door. If anyone could figure it out besides his deceased brother, it was Henry Dodge and his luscious daughter.
Unguided, Elizabeth Dodge could stumble upon his brother’s body and discover his secret. If she found William, she would need to die. Unfortunate. He would have enjoyed taking that virtue her father guarded so thoroughly. Henry Dodge had warned him off his daughter with the threat of all but death, but Elizabeth wasn’t as innocent as she’d like her father to believe. She’d give it up for a few pretty promises of marriage. The way she’d already let him grope her verified it. It had kindled a fire in him. Alexander Davidson always got what he wanted, and he wanted Elizabeth’s virtue. And Henry wasn’t here to stop him.
“Elizabeth. Come out. I’m sorry.” He stopped to listen for movement.
Nothing.
“Miss Dodge, your father is worried about you. I know you’re in here. I can smell you. Come out now, and I won’t tell him what you were up to last night. Or about our time in the garden. No need for him to know.” Alexander pulled his iron from his holster and cocked it. “I told him I saw you heading for the river to get water. Your reputation is intact. He doesn’t know about us.”
“Elizabeth?” Damned willful woman.
Alexander stepped around the corner and into a large, open chamber. He lifted his lantern. On the other side of the room a stone slab rested on primitive carved jaguars. Dead center, a black crystal skull grinned at him. “That wasn’t here before.”
He could swear he’d gone the same way, but maybe he’d gotten too caught up in following Elizabeth’s scent and ended up somewhere else. Not a hard thing to do with these underground ruins.
Traps could be anywhere. Cautious, he began to pick his way across the room, staying alert, watching where he set his boots down. The closer he moved toward the skull, the more it seemed to glow. Likely the light from the lantern played across its surface; nothing ghostly, magical, or mysterious stirred…even if, for some reason, it seemed that way.
But that feeling of being watched…. Alexander turned around. “Elizabeth?”
He reached out for the relic. Should he? Alexander stooped down, studying the base of the altar. Nothing remarkable. He stood again and stared at the skull. One small touch shouldn’t trigger any traps. When his fingertips connected, a zing shot up his arm. Wrong!
***
Slap!
Will’s cheek stung, and he could only hope her palm felt the same way. “Hey! Why the hell did you do that?”
“I remember. Everything. You’re not my husband.”
“I told you that.”
“How dare you take liberties?”
“Wait one moment there. If I’m remembering this right, you’re the one who asked me to take the liberties.”
“I didn’t remember.”
“You obviously do now.” He glared, waiting for her sharp tongue to dice him to ribbons the way he’d become all too accustomed to in the short time he’d known her. Instead, her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh dear, Will. What am I going to do? I’m trapped here in this time. This is all real, not a dream. I don’t know anything about this place, and I don’t know how to get home or….”
Dare he tell her about vanishing from history? Will sighed and grabbed her hands. “Elizabeth.”
“What about my father? He must be frantic.”
If she even existed to him anymore. “Elizabeth.”
The tears lining her bottom lids and her quivering lip begged him to wrap his arms around her, but he already wore one palm print on his cheek, so he erred on the side of caution and squeezed her fingers gently, speaking more firmly this time. “Listen to me.”
She drew in a shaky breath and nodded.
“This is what I do. Solve mysteries. I’ll find a way to get you home and figure out what’s going on.”
“But—”
“I got this.”
“You have got what?” Her fit of tears cleared miraculously.
Will released her hands and buckled his seatbelt. “I think we should start where we met. The ruins. It’s a good hike outside the city and will take us a couple of days, but I honestly can’t think of a better place to begin. Hopefully, the diary will be there. That’s the key. My gut tells me so.”
“Then I should probably get dressed. Won’t do for me to be traipsing about naked.”
“You’re not naked.”
“I’ve never seen this much of my flesh. I bathe in more than I’m wearing.”
“Come again?”
“You do wear a garment to bathe, do you not?”
“My birthday suit.”
“Well, at least you’re not a complete heathen.” She reached up and fingered a spiral curl resting on her shoulder.
Heathen? “Yeah. Heaven forbid.” Will forced his attention to the road and away from the innocent gesture that, for some reason, made him bust-through-his-fly hard. He shifted in his seat, resisting the urge to adjust. If she knew the thoughts rolling through his head at that exact moment, she’d slap him again.
Will put the vehicle in gear and pulled out into the street, heading for the city and, eventually, the ruins where the craziness started.
They drove in silence for two hours before she spoke up. “Why did you kiss me?”
“What?”
“Why did you kiss me?” She twirled that same strand of hair around her index finger and stared at him. Her lips parted slightly.
Full. Soft. A mouth like that would feel damn good on his cock. Stop. Don’t go there.
“Will, are you listening to me?”
“You asked me to.” He wasn’t certain he liked the question for a whole lot of reasons he couldn’t begin to dissect. Should he feel guilty for kissing her? He’d done a hell of a lot more with women, but Elizabeth had the talent to make him feel dirty about a kiss.
“No. Not this last time, but when we were in the tomb. Why did you kiss me in the tomb?”
“I don’t know. You’re a woman. I’m a guy. It seemed the right thing to do at the time.” Not that his temper or shutting her up had had anything to do with it. Would he tell her that? Oh hell, no.
“What if I can’t return? Do you want some kind of relationship with me? Or will you leave me to figure this out on my own?”
“No, I brought you to this time. I sure as hell won’t dump you on the side of the road, if that’s what you’re asking. You can stay with me—at my place.”
“Together? At the same residence? What about that pull between us? Will you give in to it? Expect compensation?”
“Excuse me?” He blinked and focused on the road, not daring to look at her. Did she just ask what he thought she’d asked?
“Do you want to have relations with me? I mean, we will be living together, and that’s usually what happens when a man and women reside in the same household. Will you demand certain favors?”
Will coughed. “Sex?”
“Yes.” She wrung her hands in her lap and studied the dash. “Relations in the biblical sense, sir.”
“Is there any other…? I….” It was his f
ault she’d ended up in 2015, but he didn’t plan to make her bad experience worse. She didn’t need to be mauled after all she’d been through. Not that he didn’t want to maul her, but he had better ethics than that. Davidson men didn’t take advantage of women in bad situations. “I’m not some jerk. I won’t do anything you won’t want done to you. Okay? I’m suggesting you can stay with me until we figure something out. That’s it.”
“Very well, then. I need to clarify one thing, Mr. Davidson. I’m not living with you unless we’re married, and I’m not going with you into that jungle until I have a ring on my finger. I’ve already compromised my reputation enough.”
Will slammed on the brakes, screeching to a stop in the middle of the road. “I didn’t say anything about marrying you. I said I’d take care of you, and you could live with me.”
“That sounds like marriage.”
Will reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’ll get you your own residence if we can’t send you home.”
“You would make me a mistress? What kind of woman do you think I am?”
“Stop it. Stop putting words into my mouth.” He ground his molars together.
“Well, how should I take it, Mr. Davidson?”
“Will, please call me Will. Elizabeth, you’re in a different time, and certain things are more relaxed. Clothing isn’t as restrictive, and neither is society. Men and women live together all the time without getting married. We don’t freaking wear clothes to bathe, and sometimes we take showers together. None of it is abnormal.”
“Just like women of your time wear their bloomers outside? I think not. Because you believe this is all acceptable doesn’t mean I find it so. Actually, it’s rather vulgar.” A car honked and swerved around them. The driver extended his arm and flicked them off as he passed, spewing something in Spanish.
“And that makes my point right there.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“You know what he just said?” Great. Just great. The man did say some pretty crude things that no lady of any time should be subjected to, and it gave her more ammunition.
“No, but it was the tone.”
“So just humor me for a moment,” Will said. “Let’s say I do marry you. We get to the ruins, find the journal, and you return to where you came from. Then what? I’m married to a woman from 1905 with no way to get the marriage dissolved, and, might I add, it works both ways. Then, before that, we would need to get the documents together to do it. You’d need a birth certificate and a passport, neither of which, I might point out, you possess at the moment. You can’t just cross borders without one. I have a contact who could swing it, but it could take days to get everything together, and I’d still have to explain why. All to protect the virtue I clearly told you I wasn’t after. Do you know how off your chump you sound?”
Elizabeth burst into tears.
Fuck. Not again.
***
“Do you, Señor William Davidson, take Señorita Elizabeth Dodge to be your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness….”
For the hundredth time, William’s mind wandered to just why the hell he thought getting married would help.
He watched the woman before him. Yeah, he knew why. Thinking from south of the beltline had a lot to do with it. The lace dress molded to her curves, accentuating every delectable inch of her lush body. Face of an angel. Body of a temptress. No other way to describe it. Miss Elizabeth Dodge was the woman of his dreams—always had been—and here she stood, about to say, “I do.” But that wasn’t the hammer that had put the nail in his bachelorhood coffin.
Sure, he might have lost his mind. Any man would, at one glance, but she’d hit his one weakness, pulled out the heavy guns. And he’d caved like a stack of toothpicks.
Agent William Alexander Davidson couldn’t take a woman’s tears.
After his buddy, Jason, had finished laughing when Will told him that someone had lifted his wallet, he’d given him the number of a man who could create everything he needed for a price and within an hour. Somehow, an FBI agent getting his pocket picked was hysterical to a former art thief. He couldn’t disclose the truth to anyone, and, if he had, it would’ve earned him a trip to the doctor for a psychological exam once he went back to work. The fee for the forgeries set him back two grand. The documents were everything his friend had said they would be. It was impossible to tell they were counterfeit.
Now here he stood, getting married to a woman at least one hundred and thirty years old if his calculations were correct. Talk about your cougar relationship. His bank account held five grand less after the documents, rings, and dress for his lovely bride, who insisted she wouldn’t marry him wearing anything other than white. When she’d walked out of the changing room wearing the gown, he’d nearly swallowed his tongue.
Dare he ask for a honeymoon?
“Señor?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and puckered up for a chaste peck. Right. He’d already told her he didn’t kiss like that.
“Not like that, sweetheart.” Will latched onto her and yanked her in tight.
“Will?” she squeaked as he bent her over backward, holding her gaze while her fingers dug into his biceps.
Now that he had her undivided attention…. “Like this.”
When their lips connected, the Fourth of July exploded through his body. Heat balled in his gut, rolling out and consuming him to his fingers and toes, quickly moving from a desire to show her a proper kiss to something far baser. Dangerous territory.
If that happened when they kissed, what would it be like when they really got down and dirty? Well, she’d wanted to be his wife. Nothing wrong with seducing your old lady; well, unless you didn’t want to stay married. When she sighed and returned the kiss, he had to fight the urge to toss her over his shoulder and tote her from the chapel, caveman style.
But they had equipment to purchase, an expedition to get under way, and a journal to find, or Miss Elizabeth Dodge would be Mrs. Davidson until death do us part, which, at the moment, didn’t sound so bad. What the hell?
He set her upright. A promise was a promise. He’d get her back to her time—intact. Elizabeth wobbled and slapped a hand over her breast as though she were afraid her heart might burst from her chest. Her mouth hung slightly ajar as little breaths escaped. A dazed expression glazed her features, and she remained speechless. She appeared both vulnerable and sexy as hell. A lethal combination. He leaned in to kiss her again then reality hit like a bolt of lightning.
“Let’s go.” Getting attached wouldn’t be a good thing since she’d soon be homeward bound. She didn’t want to be here and had made that more than clear. Should have stuck with the chaste peck. Will spun on his heel and strode from the church before he did something foolish.
Like keep her.
Chapter Eight
Alexander examined the chamber. How?
His head throbbed, and a nonexistent band of steel that seemed to crank tighter every second had taken up residence around his skull. He groaned and rolled to his side, staring at the mummified remains of his brother.
Odd, considering he’d killed him only months before. “Even in death, brother, you decline to leave me alone.” He struck out with his foot, hitting the grinning skull in the forehead and sending it rolling across the chamber. A golden locket fell across his sibling’s ribs with a clink.
It wouldn’t be unusual if his brother had kept a favor from his young bride to take with him into the jungle, only the locket didn’t belong to his wife.
Alexander plucked it from the bones, turning it around in the dim light. Gold with elegant scrollwork etched across its surface. On the front sat a large cabochon star ruby. So she’d found his brother’s body. Damn. He popped the golden heart open with his thumbnail, staring at the picture he knew would be inside, a photo of a beautiful woman so like Elizabeth she could have been her siste
r. Elizabeth’s mother.
There could be no way Elizabeth could tell the desiccated corpse belonged to William. He snapped the locket shut and tucked it into his pocket, frowning. She’d fouled everything. He couldn’t take the chance she’d discovered the truth about his brother’s disappearance and would run to her father, resulting in his arrest and certain execution. The authorities frowned upon murder in about every country.
Not just the lovely Miss Dodge, but the entire expeditionary party would now need to disappear, and some of the natives they’d seen in the rainforest would make the perfect scapegoats. He turned and spotted a small journal lying on the floor, a few feet away. Well, what have we here? Maybe all is not lost.
***
They couldn’t go off half-cocked. Experience had taught Will that those who were ill-prepared often found themselves fighting for their lives. They’d stopped in the room to change and shower, something that had taken Elizabeth the better part of an hour. Half of that had been spent touching the television and the refrigerator unit, which she’d opened and closed at least five dozen times, trying to figure out if the light stayed on. From there, she had moved on to explore the controls on the whirlpool, the intricacies of the shower head, and the wonder that was the flush toilet, at which she had squealed in glee. Squealed. Jesus. He had found himself smiling at her innocence and enthusiasm for everything he took for granted.
But not now. Now she’d crossed the line. Without Will even seeing what she was watching, the announcer’s voice on the set confirmed that she had found the most annoying station on the planet.
Elizabeth sat staring at Lifetime.
Oh, hell, no. He could take a lot of things women gravitated toward—dancing, chick flicks, basically anything that mentally gelded the opposite sex—but that network wasn’t one of them. He grabbed the remote.
The Willfully Wedded Virgin (Beyond Fairytales) Page 7
