Spinning Through Time

by Barbara Baldwin

  In the past this never bothered him, for he usually had ledgers, stud books and lineage papers scattered about him on the huge table and worked as he ate. Knowing Jaci enjoyed dining with Amanda and the household staff rather than with him burned in his gut. Of course, it would have appeared inappropriate if he had asked her to join him, for although he considered her a lady, she was a member of his staff.

  It pleased him greatly, therefore, when she followed him into his study to ask that Amanda begin taking her meals with him. If the child sat at table that meant her governess would have to sit there also, instead of hiding away in her room. Of course, it wouldn’t do to let her know how much he favored the idea. She might decide against it if only to be contrary.

  “A five year old child has no business sitting at table with adults.” He loved to bait her, for her eyes sparked with defiance and her cheeks glowed with color.

  “She must learn table manners, and what better way than to model the behavior of her elders.”

  He moved closer, for she smelled of springtime even though heavy frost had hit the meadows last eve. He watched her lips as she spoke and recalled the one time he had kissed her. It had begun more to calm her, though passion lay beneath the surface, and now he wondered what she would say if he kissed her again. “Are you saying I’m old?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.” Her blush grew brighter.

  “Dinner is a place for adult conversation. Perhaps instead, you would care to join me?”

  “I, well, that is…”

  Nicholas thought he had pushed her too far when she gave a sigh and turned away. It appeared she needed only to collect her thoughts, for in a moment she turned back, her eyes once again full of fire.

  “I will consent to dine with you, if Amanda can, also. The opportunity will be there for her to listen and learn from adult conversation. Besides, she adores you and doesn’t see you except for riding lessons.”

  Now that was hitting below the belt, he thought, for he loved his niece, and wanted only what was best for her. To retaliate, he decided to see how far Miss Eastman was willing to go to obtain her desired objective.

  “Are you, perhaps, afraid to spend time alone with me?” The question brought him closer.

  “No, of course not.” She took a step back, coming to a stop against the wall.

  “Do you think I might take advantage of you?” He raised a hand to each side of her head, bracing them on the wall behind her and effectively blocking her escape.

  “No, I’m sure you wouldn’t do that. You’re a gentlemen, after all.” She said the words, but he didn’t think she quite believed them. Her gaze darted all around, looking for a way out.

  “Even a gentleman might be tempted,” he breathed close to her temple, intoxicated by her essence. He turned his head a fraction and kissed the soft skin of her forehead. She trembled, but when a tumultuous sigh escaped, tickling his neck, it was his undoing.

  One hand remained braced against the wall, holding him steady and slightly apart from her. The other gently tilted her chin. As he lowered his head, he caught the glint of passion in her eyes and smiled. Not a smile of spite, for he didn’t want her on opposite sides from him. He smiled for joy that she shared some of the same feelings that had been tormenting him throughout the past months of her employment at Wildwood.

  Her lips were as he remembered; hot and soft and sweet. He ached to move closer, but deliberately held himself back; keeping a very thin barrier of air between them, until she stepped away from the wall, wrapping her arms around his neck. He groaned, circling her waist and pulling her to him. Passion ignited quickly and he couldn’t have said who started it; only that he didn’t want it to end.

  He slanted his mouth across hers; his tongue traced the softness of her lips. When his hands slid down to her buttocks to tighten his hold, she didn’t pull away from the evidence of his passion. She didn’t even gasp. Instead, she moved her hips in a subtle but erotic motion and Nicholas thought he would make love to her right there on the floor.

  “Good God, how did you ever learn to do that?” He gasped the feverish words against her brow as he kissed his way to her ear.

  “Do what?” Her breath tickled his neck. Her hands were at his shirt front, plucking at the buttons before he was even aware of what she was doing. Hot lips peppered his skin with kisses and a flash fire of passion exploded in his loins.

  He pushed her back against the wall to maintain the pressure of his hips against hers, and to allow his hands more freedom. In a frenzy, he jerked at the buttons of her blouse, all the while kissing her with a force which alternately frightened and exulted him.

  Never in his experience had he encountered such a giving, uninhibited creature. To have her respond to him in such a manner went beyond his wildest expectations. Though he had never tried to kiss Lycinda in such a manner, neither had she exhibited the desire to share passion with him.

  Lycinda.

  Like a gust of cold air, reality swept through Nicholas, effectively dousing his passion. He stepped away from Jaci and quickly turned his back.

  In a voice more steady than his still rigid body should have allowed, he said, “Forgive me. That was unpardonable.” He forced himself to stay turned, knowing if he looked into her eyes, he would kiss her again.

  A hesitant sigh floated toward him. When she spoke, her voice sounded as strained as his own. “I don’t understand the customs here, but you don’t need to apologize for kissing me.”

  “It was much more than a kiss,” he stated forcibly, “and would have gone even farther if—” He stopped, feeling guilty and afraid of saying the wrong thing.

  She laughed hoarsely. “You’re right, it was definitely more than a kiss. But the only unpardonable part was not finishing what you started.”

  Her comment shocked him, but when he jerked around, she had disappeared.

  Chapter Five

  If anyone had asked Jaci what she would miss by not living in the twenty-first century, she would never in her wildest imaginings have said sex. It had never seemed that important, but suddenly it became something she thought about more than pizza and popcorn and mystery movies on TV. Actually, she didn’t even miss television.

  “This is crazy,” she sputtered as she paced the width of her room, frustrated and restless. She had refused to eat dinner with Nicholas last evening after their disastrous confrontation in the library. She had merely wanted to request he spend more time with Amanda, and she had ended up seducing him.

  She recalled the hard contours of his body as he had pushed against her. Man, she hadn’t felt that horny since high school, and even now the intense ache between her legs wouldn’t abate.

  She pressed her forehead against the cold window glass, staring into the pre-dawn. Night shadows were fading, and soon it would be time to start another day. If only she could relive the last one. Relive, or change? The question haunted her as she dug through the wardrobe in search of very specific clothes.

  She had always tried to be honest, at least to herself, and Jaci knew without a doubt she would have liked nothing better than to have spent the night in abandoned lovemaking. Nicholas had kissed her with a great deal of enthusiasm, but she didn’t know how he felt about her. Given her circumstances in this century, she wasn’t at all sure she should start a relationship she had no intentions of being around to finish.

  Still muttering to herself, she stealthily crept down the stairs, grabbed her wool cloak from the peg by the door and stepped out into the crisp morning air. As she trotted slowly around the side of the house toward the barn, she sincerely hoped no one else rose quite this early. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of this before. It would have relieved alot of stress if she had kept to an exercise routine from the very beginning.

  The well oiled door gave way beneath her hand and she stood on the threshold gazing at the huge indoor arena. She hadn’t been out here before but Amanda had talk about where she had her riding lessons. Admittedly i
t made sense to have an indoor exercise ring considering the length and coldness of Pennsylvania winters.

  Overhead, huge windows turned hazy pink as dawn slid across the land, and Jaci decided if she was going to run, she’d better get to it. She doubted many people would understand if they came across her dressed as she was now. Actually, probably only Nicholas would throw a fit, for he appeared to be a man with a touch of prudishness and a whole lot of honor.

  She tossed her cloak over the railing and quickly unbuttoned her jeans, kicking them into a pile. She slid her hands down her Lycra covered thighs to touch her toes, then swiveled her shoulders from side to side to loosen unused muscles. The barn wasn’t all that warm, so she decided to leave her sweatshirt on for a while. She giggled as she stretched, recalling how different it had felt to slide into her bra and tank top this morning.

  Her old clothes now felt foreign next to her skin after lacing herself into a shift and undergarments and petticoats and shirtwaist and pinafore, all of which seemed a necessary part of the daily ritual of dressing. She had drawn the line at wearing a corset, although Mrs. Sullivan had insisted she be fitted for one to wear beneath her Sunday dress and other special clothes.

  Jaci had also been informed if she dared appear at a dance without a corset she would never be considered a proper lady and all the men would take advantage. When she had asked Mrs. Sullivan exactly how the men would know if she wore one or not, the older lady had blushed red with embarrassment. It didn’t matter one way or the other, she thought, as she climbed through the low railing and trotted along the dirt track. She still hoped she wouldn’t be around for any fancy dress balls and Sunday outings.

  Gradually, she built speed around the track. The brisk mustiness of the air inside the arena smelled good to her, and for once she didn’t even miss the smog-tinged air of Dallas. She tried to brush all thoughts from her mind and concentrate on the steady rhythm of her feet on the track, knowing if she hit that invisible wall, she could run a long time and not worry about her present situation.

  Nicholas stood in the shadows at the far end of the track, eyes narrowing as he watched Jaci slow to a trot and run in place as she jerked off her overlarge shirt and dropped it onto the pile of clothes by the post. He involuntarily sucked in his breath, very aware of the havoc she created in his body. He had intended to exercise Wind Dancer early this morning to take his mind off Jaci Eastman, but instead he stood there, feeling as guilty as a school boy peeking into a side show at the circus.

  Lord, was she beautiful. Sleek and muscled like a race horse, she flew around the track. She wore the skimpiest of costumes; her glistening blue leggings cut off above the knee and skin tight; the white sleeveless camisole clinging to her curves like a second skin.

  His groin throbbed in rhythm with the pounding of her footsteps; his hands itched to cup her breasts, which jiggled enticingly as she ran. She might as well be naked, he thought, his gaze feasting on her slim waist and tight buttocks as she ran past him and on around the track. The snug way her strange clothes fit — well, he understood why she didn’t need a corset beneath her normal clothes.

  He had chastised himself last night for taking advantage of her. For reasons which were still a mystery to him, she appeared unfamiliar with their customs and was much more forward than any female in his acquaintance. That forwardness, in some women, would rarely bother the men in his society, gentlemen or otherwise, and Nicholas was no different. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to carry her upstairs to his bedroom. As it were, he had let a simple kiss get quite out of hand. He still hadn’t decided what to do about Miss Eastman and his growing infatuation with her, and had decided an early morning ride would help him think.

  Now that idea was shot to hell. He stepped further into the shadows as she rounded the curve yet again. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings, and he continued to observe her, by now past the guilt which should have averted his gaze.

  He should be happy that his instincts had proven correct as Jaci dealt well with Amanda. It freed him to pursue his business. But lately, every time he traveled to Philadelphia, he searched for an excuse to take Jaci with him. That would not do, of course, since her primary reason for being there was to care for his niece. Then, because she couldn’t go with him, he got rather irritated, frustrated, and generally disagreeable.

  His mind became tangled with unrelated thoughts, excuses and misbegotten reasons for his actions. His body continued to throb, and he realized if he persisted in watching, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. When he couldn’t take any more of what he considered teasing, even though she had no notion of his presence, he stepped onto the track. When she came around the curve again, she couldn’t help but see him.

  Nicholas was surprised when she almost ran into him before stopping. It took a few seconds for her gaze to focus on his face, and he was aware of a gradual change — as though she just now came back to the present. She continued to trot in place for a few minutes, her breath ragged, her very skin quivering. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

  “What on earth are you doing?” The question came out curt, but he decided it behooved him to act with authority, for his own sake as well as Jaci’s. Otherwise, it was hard telling what he might do, he thought, as he watched her chest heave with exertion.

  “Exercising.” The single word bounced at him as she blew her breath upward, cooling her face and causing her bangs to wave.

  “What?”

  “Exercise isn’t bad for you, you know.”

  “Exercise is a walk in the garden or a ride on a horse. It is not running around half naked and —” His voice squeaked as he watched her heaving breasts, barely covered by the scooped neck of the top she wore. “Miss Eastman, you are — sweating.”

  “Don’t women in this century sweat, Nicholas?”

  He ignored the familiar use of his name. He was too fascinated with the shimmer of her skin and the animal-like lust he was experiencing.

  “Heavens, no. I mean, perhaps on the hottest days, they may perspire, but they truly try to prevent it.” He watched as moisture trickled down her chest to disappear into the valley of her breasts.

  She stepped closer. Her smell — musky, but definitely female — attacked his senses. “I’m sorry, Nicholas, that I came out here to exercise, dressed like this.” Her voice dropped an octave, soft and seductive, but he paid more attention to her hand, which slid across her chest at the top of her thin camisole, creating a sheen across her entire upper torso.

  He grabbed her arms and jerked her to him, crushing any further words with his kiss. Beneath her hot skin he felt her pulse throb. She was making him crazy, the thought fluttered across his mind and then was gone, leaving behind a hunger for more than her sweet kisses.

  She returned his kiss with equal fervor, and that fact seeped through his dazed senses faster than if she had merely acquiesced. He recalled her abandon last night, and while he told himself he should take her to bed if only to prove a point, he wasn’t clear as to what the point was. She had a power over him that no woman before had ever claimed, and that frightened him. He was used to a nice ordered life, and kept telling himself he didn’t care for the way she constantly intruded on his thoughts.

  Her fingers slid to the nape of his neck, gently massaging, before tangling her fingers in his hair. She opened her mouth and his reaction was immediate, deepening his kiss until he claimed her soul.

  Regardless of the sensations coursing through his blood and firing his passion, Lycinda’s image once again came to mind. At that moment, he hated himself for acting dishonorably. He jerked away from her, stepping back and immediately regretting the loss of contact. He averted his gaze from her heaving breasts for he longed to take her back in his arms. Damn her for bewitching me, he mentally cursed.

  He turned his anger on Jaci for making him want her, and causing him to forget honor in order to partake of the glorious intervals of passion he had never known existed.

  “No decen
t woman would dress like a local wh—” he couldn’t force himself to say such a debasing word, even in anger, “—a tavern wench. Unless, of course, you want to be treated as one.” She gasped at his words, but he didn’t retract them.

  “Look, Mister Westbrooke, I don’t know why I’m here, but I refuse to give up my lifestyle just because I got thrown into your life.”

  She tried to get by him, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. The heat from her skin burned through him, momentarily melding them together. Slowly he raised his gaze to her face, only to see the fire of anger flashing from her eyes, not remorse or tears as he would have thought.

  “No gentleman of your time would handle a lady in such a manner. Would he?” The insinuation in her words was clear.

  “Are you a lady, Miss Eastman?”

  “I’ve never tried to be a lady. I doubt seriously that I even want to be one,” she snapped. Jerking her arm from his grasp, she hurried over to where her clothes lay in a pile.

  The turmoil within Nicholas grew stronger as he watched her bend over and jab her long legs into trousers. Damn, she had him tied in knots, but regardless of the consequences, he had to get close to her one more time. He walked up behind her as she slid her large shirt over her head, momentarily blinding her to his approach. He gently pulled the bottom hem of the shirt down and her head popped out the top. Instead of releasing the material, he used it to pull her back against him. He tucked his chin over her shoulder to further pin her in place, whispering very close to her ear.

  “Forgive me, sweet Jaci. You are lovely to the extreme, and I sometimes forget myself.” Knowing that her closeness would only be torture for his own body, he released her and turned, once again becoming part of the shadows.

  Jaci refused to cry. She had decided days ago that crying was a waste. It hadn’t brought her mother back all those long years ago, and it wouldn’t change her circumstances now. But, oh, she was mad.