It was July 4th. The day he was hanged. They didn’t have much time.
She cleared her throat. “When I came back this afternoon, I still had the shawl in my hand.”
“Aye and quite a lovely thing it is.” He wrinkled his nose at the heap of stained lace on the table. “You say it’s Clara’s?”
“Yes. She’s going to wear it when she dies tonight. And you see this?” She pointed the dried thumbprint on the edge of the cloth. “There’s only two people this could belong to: Clara and the guy who killed her. I got Clara and Ned’s fingerprints on the pendant for comparison. I’ve already excluded her as the source of the print, so now I’m trying to figure out if it’s Ned’s. It’s simple fingerprint analysis.”
Jamie squinted a bit. “Right. …And what’s fingerprint analysis again?”
Crap. Had that not been invented yet? No wonder he was so confused. “Don’t worry about it. I know what I’m doing.” She picked up a magnifying glass and went back to comparing the prints. “If I can prove Edward Hunnicutt’s the killer we can stop him and be out of here by tonight.”
“That does seem a grand idea.” Jamie admitted. “What if this ‘analysis’ proves he’s not the killer?”
“Then our travel plans will be delayed.” And, unfortunately, that was exactly what happened.
Ned’s thumbprint didn’t match the killer’s.
Double crap. Grace got to her feet with a frustrated sigh. There went their best suspect. “Alright.” She ran a hand through her hair, trying to think. “It wasn’t Ned.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “Can we kill him anyway?”
“Focus.” She repeated sternly. “The good news is, we still have the killer’s fingerprint. We can identify him, once we find him. The bad news is, we have to --you know-- find him.”
She checked the grandfather clock in the corner. It was situated in the exact same place two centuries from now. Sort of. In 2001, her cousin Desire accidently sent it into a neighboring dimension, but you could still hear it ticking away, year after year. God only knew how Serenity kept it wound. According to its always-accurate timekeeping, there were just six hours and counting until Jamie was hanged on the street.
Triple crap.
“You could use a spell to find him.” Jamie suggested.
“After the debacle with Aggie Northhandler?”
“That was Loyal’s magic. Use your own, lass. I sense it inside of you. Just tap into it.”
Grace shook her head. “I only know two spells and once of them is for menstrual cramps.”
Jamie shot her the same fond look he always got when he was amused by her supposed “odd-ducky-ness” “What does the other spell do?”
“I’m not sure.” She’d never tested it. Neither had anybody else in her family. …And if the Riveras resisted using a spell, you knew it had to be bad. They’d been on a century-long quest to reinvented troll powder, for God’s sake. “It’s the Rivera Doomsday Spell. We all learn it. It’s the magic you pull out when you have absolutely no other option. Nobody has ever been desperate enough to cast it.”
Jamie looked just as intrigued by that as he did the first time she’d explained it. “Sounds quite promising.”
“Sounds quite dangerous.” Grace corrected, heading over to look at Loyal’s shelves for some kind of inspiration. “Concentrate. Who else in this town might have a fixation on Lucinda?”
“Just about every male at The Raven, for starters.” He’d clearly rather be discussing the Doomsday Spell.
“Who specifically, though? It’s probably someone who knows her and maybe had a grudge against her.” Grace plucked a vial from Loyal’s shelf of potions and dropped it into her pocket. Anti-magic leanings aside, it didn’t hurt to be prepared for Plan B. “Maybe some guy who…” She stopped a new idea popping into her head. “Wait! Remember when you said you’d always thought Lucinda had been killed by a man who she’d turned down?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s because you haven’t said it yet.” When was that memory potion going to kick in, anyway? “Point is, she didn’t turn down that many men.” Grace held up her palms. “Now, I’m not slut-shaming the girl. I’m just saying she was into sexual liberation way before most people.”
“She liked to pass a good time.” Jamie agreed with a shrug.
“Right. In my time, she’d have her own reality show and a teen makeup line. In this century, though, she was a bit unusual. So, maybe you were right, all along.”
“I so often am.”
Grace ignored that, her mind racing for another likely suspect. “Maybe Lucinda turned down someone who took it personally that she’d sleep with other men, but not him. That would give us a new place to start looking for suspects. Who did Lucinda rebuff? Did she tell you anything about that?”
Jamie made a considering face. “Well, she turned down Gregory Maxwell’s advances about twice a week. Thought it was quite a joke.”
Grace recalled something about that from the diary. “The dumb looking guy at my witch trial? Anabel’s brother.”
“That would be him.”
“But, he’s all set to be Governor of Virginia, now.”
“Oh bloody hell! Gregory as governor?! I’d sooner campaign for Cornwallis.”
Grace disregarded his elaborate shudder. “Besides, that would mean Gregory had killed his sister in the original timeline.” She frowned. It was always hard for her to imagine someone killing their own family. As much as the Riveras annoyed her, she loved them all. “How likely is Gregory to hurt Anabel? Are they close?”
“Anabel never refers to him, a’tall, without adding ‘my idiot brother’ in front of his name, so I’d say not.” Jamie said dryly. “But, the man’s not smart enough to be a killer. He once lost a checkers game to a sleeping pig.”
“You don’t have to be a genius to wield a knife.”
Jamie made a considering face. “True enough, I suppose.”
“And it would explain why Anabel went into the hedge maze with someone, when you told me she was worried about her reputation. What other man would she trust in the darkness?”
He paused, thinking it over for a long moment. “Gregory’s a liar and a braggart, so I’d put nothing past him. Alright,” he nodded like it was all settled, “let’s shoot Gregory and Ned and be off to Jamaica, then.”
“I have a better idea.” Grace gave her magnifying glass a Wyatt Earp-y twirl and dropped it into her pocket. “Let’s go get his fingerprints and fix the future, once and for all.”
Chapter Seventeen
June 28, 1789- I find that I quite enjoy being watched in the throes of passion. It’s why I don’t cover up that peephole. There is a voyeuristic pleasure in having another know you’re being well-pleased by a man.
From the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth
“The fireworks go off in an hour.” Grace looked around the town square, frowning at the crowd of people who’d already gathered. “We know that Clara vanishes sometime around then. We have to find Gregory Maxwell quickly and get his thumbprint for comparison.” Unfortunately, she didn’t see him anywhere.
“Never thought I’d ever be trying to find Gregory Maxwell.” Jamie mused with the lazy unconcern of a man who didn’t know he was scheduled to hang in few hours.
Grace still didn’t see the point in telling Jamie that this was the day he died, but she couldn’t get it out of her head. Sometime before midnight, Jamie would be lynched, unless she could figure out a way to save him. She took a deep breath and glanced up at his stunning profile. “Maybe we should split up, so we can find him faster.”
“Not bloody likely.” He shook his head with a dismissive scoff. The setting sun reflected off his hair, turning it an even more amazing shade of auburn-gold. “If you’re right and a murderer is about to strike, you’re staying right where I can see you.”
“This is important, Jamie. You have no idea what’s at stake.”
“Nothing is more important than your life.�
� He retorted stubbornly. “Gregory isn’t here, yet. When he is here, I’ll hold him down and you can cut off his whole hand if you like. Satisfied?”
She debated arguing with him, but Jamie didn’t look like he was going to budge and she didn’t have time to make him. “Fine. Let’s find someplace out of sight to keep watch until then. I don’t love the idea of being tried as a witch again today.”
They headed up a small hill, towards a secluded area at the edge of the park. The town munitions were stored there, in an octagonal stone building that was “guarded” by men who’d snuck off to the celebration. If they somehow survived into the twenty-first century, the guys would make wonderful additions to the Harrisonburg Historical Museum’s crack security team.
“Of course, if he doesn’t show up, Plan B is just to kidnap Clara ourselves.” Grace mused. “She can’t be murdered by a serial killer, if we have her tied up on your ship all night. We’ll just grab her and get the hell out of town.”
He chortled, delighted with both the idea and the swearing. “You’ve got a pirate’s soul, Grace Rivera.” He slung an arm around her shoulders. “T’is one of the many reasons I love you.”
It was the first time this version of Jamie had said those words and Grace beamed up at him. “I love you, too.”
“I know.” He winked at her.
She snorted at his Han Solo-y confidence. “You know, huh?”
“Aye. There’s no other explanation for why a lovely woman like you would want a jackass like me.”
“Well, I’m not exactly normal.”
His mouth curved in amusement, love shining from his eyes. “All versions of me are yours, Grace Rivera. Now and forever.”
“I know.” She leaned up to kiss his jawline. “You’re my whole future, Jamie. And I’m going to save you tonight. So, I’m serious about kidnapping Clara. Plan B won’t catch the killer, but we’d at least save her life.” (And Jamie’s.) “If something goes wrong, she has to be our first priority.”
“You are my first priority. Always.” He frowned a bit. “Wait, how are you saving me tonight? I accept that you’re my savior. I’ve always felt that. But what is going to happen that…?”
Grace winced and cut him off. “Just make sure Clara doesn’t die. Trust me. It would be bad for us.”
The armory was partially surrounded by a brick wall for security. Embrasures in the masonry had been built so guns could be fired from the square openings, but they also provided a clear vantage point of most of the park below.
“Okay.” Grace nodded, pleased with their hiding spot. “Now if we can just continue to avoid the guards who are supposed to be watching the munitions, we can…”
“Son of a bitch!” Jamie suddenly clutched his head, dropping to one knee like he was in agonizing pain.
The air froze in Grace’s lungs. “Jamie?” She reached out to touch his shoulder, terrified that he was having some of seizure. “Jamie, are you alright?” He didn’t look alright. Oh God. What could eighteenth-century medicine do to help him if he was really sick? It was all leeches and gangrene. They’d need magic. She’d go get him magic. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to…?
Her words ended in a squeak as his palm shot out and caught hold of her wrist. One second her fingers were resting on his sleeve, the next her hand was captured in his. Startled, Grace instinctively tried to pull free, but Jamie wasn’t letting go. He held onto her like the world had just tilted on its axis and she was the only thing keeping him steady.
“Fucking hell.” His free hand came up to cover his eyes as if he was trying to unsee something horrible. “They hanged me from that fucking tree. They fucking hanged me. That’s why you’re here.”
He remembered.
Grace’s heart slammed into overdrive. The memory potion had finally worked. This Jamie had caught up with his ghost-self, two hundred years of experiences dumping into his head like a tidal wave. Jesus, no wonder he was freaking out. It must have been like someone setting his brain of fire. She couldn’t even imagine how confusing it would be to have another whole existence downloaded into your skull.
“I know.” She said softly. “But it’s okay. You’re safe, now. I’m here. No one will hurt you this time.”
Her voice seemed to cut through his overwhelmed haze. His hand dropped from his face and he blinked. “Grace.” It was an awed breath. “Grace.” Blue eyes slashed up to meet hers, wild and hungry, and Grace’s throat went dry. Both Jamies were the same person, with all the same memories. …Which meant this man knew what she looked like totally naked.
And now he could touch her.
She gave her wrist another experimental tug and was perversely turned on when he still didn’t release her. Clearly, she had been spending waaaay too much time around a certain pirate, because there was something undeniably erotic about being captured. Still, it would be best for him if he took a moment and processed all this.
“Jamie, let’s just stop, so you can get your bearings.” She tried breathlessly. “This has all got to be messing with your head.”
His response to that was to rise to his feet and pull her closer. With her body flattened up against his, she could hear the frantic pounding of his heart and feel the hard length of his growing arousal. He made a sound like a caged animal suddenly let loose on a meal.
“Oh God.” Her insides turned to liquid, already wanting more.
Jamie’s free hand came up to tangle in her hair. “Can’t wait.” He got out. “Please, Grace. Can’t wait.” His mouth sealed over hers, kissing her like it was a religious experience. Like he was starving for her. “Love you so much.” Somehow, he managed to pin her arm behind her, ensuring that she was at his mercy while his lips plundered hers.
He needn’t have bothered holding her still. She wasn’t exactly trying to escape.
Grace let out a whimper as he backed her up against the brick wall. Other people could come to the armory. She knew that. She also knew that Jamie was about to explode. Nearly two and a half centuries of not being able to touch anything had just come to a head. Grace had never expected anyone to ever need her as much as he did, right then.
“Grace. Grace.” He was chanting her name, his body rubbing against her. “I can’t… I need… Oh fuck.” He couldn’t seem to get the words out, his control gone.
Grace knew what he needed to hear. She pulled back to meet his glazed eyes. “Take what you want.” She touched his face with her free hand, trying to calm him. “I’m yours, Jamie. You know that. Take whatever you need.”
He let out a shuddering breath, already lifting her skirts up. “Need you. Just you.”
His fingers grasped the edge of her anachronistic panties, ripping them off of her in his haste. Holy shit. Grace’s body clenched as he tossed the practical cotton underwear aside and exposed her core. She hadn’t expected to be so turned on by the lack of finesse. She’d intended to give Jamie some relief and worry about finding her own pleasure later.
But his primitive desire to claim her was amping up her own desire. Jamie wasn’t trying to seduce her. Like a stallion let loose on mare, his only goal was to be inside of her. Now. This was going to be rough and untamed and world changing. She could already tell and it was really, really hot.
He gave a primal snarl of lust, scenting her desire. “Fuck. I need you so much.”
She could hear other voices on the hill below, getting closer, but there was no way Jamie was going stop. She didn’t even want him to. He lifted her up, supporting her weight, and tugged her neckline down to expose her breasts. Greedy lips latched on, biting down on the soft globe like he wanted to mark her. Grace’s head went back with a gasp, as she wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to hold on. He jerked her body forward, so she was completely open to him. It was like being caught in a maelstrom of male passion.
“Now, Grace.” He wanted her so badly his hand shook as he opened his breeches. “Please.” Throbbing flesh brushed against her, but he didn’t go any farther. She realize
d he was worried. He wanted to make sure she was really going to allow this. He braced a palm beside her head, his desperate eyes meeting hers. “Please, my love.”
She smiled and leaned in closer to his ear. “Make me come, Jamie. You’re the only one who can.”
He gave a hoarse groan and surged inside of her so hard that Grace saw stars. There was no halfway with a pirate. He took every inch she had and a few more she hadn’t even known existed. Stretched and full and at his mercy… That was all it took to send her over the edge. God, she really was a pizza-tramp with this guy. Nobody else could bring to her orgasm, at all. Jamie could do it within a matter of seconds. He was sooooo her Partner.
Grace’s cry of passion was quickly silenced by Jamie’s palm. He let go of her wrist so he could seal a hand over her mouth. Jamie didn’t slow his thrusts, but he did make sure she couldn’t scream out her pleasure. Her body rippled around him, trying to milk his seed, but the iron length of him stayed firm.
God, she wanted him to come inside of her. She needed it. Even in the midst of one climax another one began to build.
Jamie felt her muscles tighten on him and he growled in satisfaction. “Mine.” His mouth went back to her breast, lapping at the taunt nipple. “Finally.”
As usual, the possessive words were like dumping kerosene on a fire. Grace tilted her head to dislodge his palm and slipped his finger between her lips instead. Jamie let out a hiss of pleasure as she sucked in time with his thrusts, her tongue tracing over the pad of flesh. She wanted more of him inside of her. She wanted everything.
Jamie’s eyes gleamed. “I am so in love with you, woman.”
Laughter sounded from somewhere nearby.
Grace could see figures moving through the opening in the brick wall. People were only a few hundred feet away now. In another moment, they could stumble upon them. Shit. She automatically tried to squiggle free of the embrace, but Jamie wasn’t having it.
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