She nodded as a misbehaving child would after a scolding. She didn’t care to be treated like an adolescent, but at the moment, she didn’t seem to have any choice. He said he would take care of her, and for some odd reason she believed him. She hoped by going with him she would figure out why she had traveled back in time. Why she had ended up with him. Surely, there had to be a purpose to this nightmare.
She thought Zachary had finished bawling her out. Then he added insult to injury. “You also owe me twenty-nine dollars.”
There went the obedient wife routine. “Owe you! For what?” she shouted.
“For the damage to the door of the cabin. Though I am well acquainted with Captain Pike, he still demanded the money to have it repaired.”
“You threw the knife! And those other men knocked it down. I had nothing to do with it.”
“And,” he continued, as though he hadn’t heard her complaint, “as for the wifely duties…” Zachary’s hand snaked out, pulling Gillian against him.
“Unhand—”
His mouth claimed her lips, drowning out her demand in a heated invasion. She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t allow it. He held her head and exerted a more provocative pressure with his mouth. A slow burn of desire curled through her, demanding more than she was prepared to accept. She could feel herself weakening. Her struggling lessened as she melted against him. There was something familiar about the embrace as if she’d been kissed like this before. The reasonable part of her brain knew she should push him away, but all her senses were lit on fire, threatening to consume her in one final blaze. As far as she was concerned, they were the only two people on the street, while all time stood still.
Zachary experienced the same difficulty with reality as Gillian. He wanted to tame her, to humble her, not the other way around. The small insistent voice in the back of his mind warned him to stop, but then… Hell and damnation! She kissed him back.
He didn’t care people stopped and stared. He didn’t care that Ellery’s eyebrows shot up as he watched the two succumb to whatever enchantment had captured them. Her mouth was sweet and her tongue stroked against his. She shifted restlessly, her movements a faint whisper against him. God, this felt right.
Ellery cleared his throat and tapped Zachary on the shoulder breaking the spell. “My boy, I had no idea you had a speck of passion in you, but people are beginning to talk. You might want to take this inside…say a hotel.”
Gently caressing her cheek, Zachary leaned back from Gillian, his brows furrowing. If he wasn’t careful, he could lose himself to her, and he didn’t have the time or the patience to woe the woman. He dropped his hand away. He forced the tenderness from his gaze and a wall of resentment went up in its place. He had to temper his out of control emotions. In a voice void of any amiability, he told her firmly, “That is what I expect from a wife, when called upon.”
Gillian flinched as if he’d slapped her in the face. Whom did this man think he was talking to anyway? Without weighing the consequences, she swept her foot behind his leg, knocking him on his pompous behind.
Ellery laughed so hard Gillian couldn’t help but chuckle herself. She would have continued laughing, but the look she received from the fallen Zachary was deadly enough to silence her. Livid with anger, he slowly lifted himself off the ground. He turned to look at his backside all caked with mud. He glared down at Gillian, his blue eyes narrowing to slits. “Madame, if you ever do that again, you will rue the very day.”
Ellery stopped laughing long enough to put in a few words. “Oh come on, Zach my boy, no harm done. It’s just a little mud. It will come clean. With the energy this woman possesses, just sit back and imagine the nights you will have with her.” He pounded Zachary on the back before he went on his way. “You’re a lucky man.” He was almost out of hearing range, when he turned back around. “A lucky man!” he shouted again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Zachary rented a horse drawn carriage to take them back to his home situated at the far side of town.
Simply worn out, Gillian rode in silence. She honestly didn’t want to argue anymore. Her feet hurt. She was tired, hungry, and she needed a bath.
Zachary pulled up alongside a two-story whitewashed house with a wooden fence enclosing the front yard as well as the walkway. There were steps leading up to the front door and wooden spokes that framed the quaint porch. She imagined how nice it would be to have a swing there, to enjoy the welcoming coolness of the evening. Though, it was hot and muggy, she shivered. Why, on earth would she think of such a thing? She didn’t belong here. She was going back home.
“Are you coming?” Zachary’s voice broke through her troubled thoughts like a sledgehammer.
Even if she ended up stranded in this time, she refused to spend her life with this man. She swept by him into the house and stood in the foyer.
“The first door on the right is where we’re heading,” he said, as he closed the front doors. She entered the room she assumed was the library for there were bookcases that reached the ceiling and covered three of the walls. She turned to face him, his lips twisted into a cynical smile. “Please make yourself comfortable. I must attend to a few things.”
Gillian nodded as she watched him stiffly walk out of the room. She couldn’t help it. A smile of satisfaction curved her lips as she viewed his mud-caked pants. The man evidently would change his clothes before he did anything else.
Gladly throwing her purse on the drab sofa, Gillian sat down to absorb the ambience of the room, which is to say, the lack of any. It was clean, spacious and comfortable, but it was meagerly furnished. An ornate carved mantle framed the fireplace. Above it, hung a framed picture nearly faded from recognition. Immediately, her creative mind started to make minor changes, which would transform the room, making it a place where a person would want to kick up their feet and relax.
Thinking of feet. She leaned down and slowly removed her shoes, leaving only the thin stockings. She wiggled her cramped toes, hoping to restore circulation. “Much better,” she sighed. “What to do now?” Her gaze landed on the bookshelves. “Well, Mr. Creighton, if you read any of these books you must be a well educated man. Hmm, I wonder what your interests are?” She hobbled over to one of the bookshelves to discover what sort of man she’d been forced to marry. There were books on law, medicine, and mineralogy. On another shelf, there were ones on botany, history, anatomy, and astronomy. Set on the bottom shelf, she discovered a four-volume dictionary, and to her surprise, there were even books of poetry. She quickly decided to take the writings of Oliver Wendell Holmes back to her seat. She propped up her feet and opened the book.
***
Zachary wasn’t completely insensitive to Gillian’s discomfort. Now that some of his hostility toward her and their situation had subsided, he knew he had to examine her feet and treat them if necessary. He returned to the library with his medical supplies, pausing at the door. To his amusement Gillian had taken his gesture of hospitality seriously, and made herself at home. She stretched out on the couch engrossed in a book she’d chosen. Her auburn hair cascaded over one shoulder in waves that framed her angelic face. Nothing to entice him, and yet, he felt his body stir, making him painfully aware he was a man, alone with a beautiful woman.
Gillian turned her head and met his gaze. Her brows furrowed and he looked away not wanting her to see how much he desired her. They may be married in name, but he had a hunch she wouldn’t fall into his bed and appease his carnal attraction.
“I thought you might need something for your feet. Do you have any blisters?”
“You never cease to confound me.”
“What do you mean?”
“One minute you’re mean and nasty and the next you act like you care.”
He gave her a slightly wounded smile. “I do believe you’ve seen me at my worst.”
“Hmm.” She tilted her head.
“Your feet,” he reminded her of his question.
“Oh, yes… I don’t know.
I was afraid to remove the stockings.”
Placing the medical black bag on the floor, he knelt down in front of her. He gently took her feet in his hands, and slowly peeled the thin socks from her feet. When Gillian grimaced, he glanced up at her. “I’m sorry, but they have to come off.” She bit down on her lower lip and nodded her head for him to continue. The removal of the stocking revealed a nasty blister on the top part of her foot, and another on the outer side that had already burst. The left foot was in about the same condition. He was amazed she hadn’t complained more. “I’ll have to treat these to avoid any infection.” He opened the bag he brought with him, taking out some gauze and a bottle of alcohol. Gillian tried not to squirm while he gently dabbed her feet.
“Where did you learn about disinfecting wounds? I’m sure I remember Jerry telling me it wasn’t common practice before the twentieth century.”
“At one time, I thought I wanted to be a doctor. I learned a few tricks that could save one's life. It comes in handy at times.” He glanced up before he asked, “Who’s Jerry?”
“Uh… Jerry… He’s just a… you know, a friend.” She quickly threw another question at him as if he’d forget she mentioned another man’s name. “What changed your mind about becoming a doctor?”
He wanted to know who Jerry was, but he bit his tongue. They were on good terms and not arguing, he could wait awhile longer. “I was a better gambler than a doctor.” He shrugged.
“In that case, I hope I don’t lose my feet.” She had a genuine smile, making her incredible green eyes sparkle.
His mouth twitched amused by her gentle teasing. “I kind of like your feet. So, I’ll do my best to save them.” Her face flushed from his bold statement. He needed to watch his tongue. Not wanting her to feel uncomfortable, he dropped his gaze. He diligently returned to his task of wrapping each foot with thin strips of gauze. When he finished, he put his supplies away. “I think that should suffice.” On impulse, he leaned down, stopping just short of kissing her lips. He recovered quickly and gave her a fatherly peck on the forehead. “There, all better,” he said feeling a little unsettled. He’d known her hours and yet he felt this immediate connection. Perhaps attraction would be the better word. He’d have to be blind not to notice how her hair held six different shades of gold and red, or miss the luscious curves that were now hidden beneath the hideous dress she wore. He desperately wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her like...well, like a husband should kiss his wife. He cleared his throat. “So…hmm.” He searched for something to say. “Are you hungry?”
“You read my mind. I’m so starved, I probably could eat a horse.”
Zachary chuckled. “Sorry, I believe we’re fresh out of horse, ma’am but I’ll see what I can do.” He stood with his medical supplies in his hand. At the door, he turned to look at her. “Don’t move from that spot.”
Her well-defined kissable lips curved into a smile. “I’ll wait right here.”
This was going to be a long night.
Zachary headed for the kitchen. While he prepared the meal, he thought about Gillian’s comment and the reference to the man she called Jerry. He didn’t believe for one moment, the man was merely a friend. She had hesitated to answer him, and had been far too quick to change the subject. Something else puzzled him, too: What did she mean before the twentieth century they didn’t disinfect wounds?
***
Gillian yawned. “Time traveling wears a person out.” She plumped up the pillows and stretched out on the sofa. The book she had been reading was soon forgotten. She closed her eyes. Oddly enough, she felt safe here.
She easily entered the world of dreams, where he waited. His touch sent a tingle racing to the tips of her toes. The musky smell of him filled her senses in vivid longing.
“Grá mo chroi,” he whispered as he kissed the tender area behind her ear. She wanted to open her eyes, and for once view the man who held her heart, but her eyelids wouldn’t obey. She felt the moist heat of his mouth against hers and she parted her lips in acceptance. She had to tell him how she felt. She had to let him know she wanted him. “I have waited so long.” Her dream man halted his caresses. He pulled back, taking all the warmth with him. Her eyes fluttered open. She didn’t see her dream man at all. Zachary sat inches from her and with his hands on her.
Her face flushed with humiliation and anger. She lashed out, wanting to get away. She swung at Zachary’s head, but he grabbed her arms and pinned her against the back of the sofa.
“Hell and damnation! Why are you hitting me?”
“Why? I’ll tell you why. You were kissing me!” she accused, as if it were a grave sin. She wanted so much for the man to be the one she sought, but it was only Zachary Creighton. The disappointment left a sour ache in the pit of her stomach. “Let go of me,” she sneered.
He rolled his eyes with a groan, but he released her. He stood and took a step back. He watched her with a hungry predator glare, but she stared back without remorse for her actions. He had started this, not her.
Gillian wasn’t naive. She realized he had every right to expect something from her. They were legally married, and married people usually shared everything. Zachary obviously wanted to enjoy the marriage’s fringe benefits. Well, she didn’t. She couldn’t. It didn’t matter in the least that her heart skipped and started to race when he looked at her. The relationship had been doomed from the start. She didn’t belong here and would have to return to her time.
She didn’t want to hurt him, give him false hopes they would have a future. She frowned as a disturbing thought flitted across her mind. She didn’t want to be hurt either.
Zachary knew she had every right to be angry with him. He took advantage of her. Truly, he hadn’t planned on kissing her, but when he leaned down to wake her, she parted her lips in invitation. How could he refuse? She’d kissed him back, by God. “What’s this all about? I can kiss you. You are my wife or have you forgotten?”
Lifting her chin in a defiant gesture, she glared up at him. “Well now, how can I possibly forget when you remind me every chance you get?”
For a moment, silence prevailed while they both glared at each other.
Zachary wondered why she kept getting under his skin, like an old wound that ached on a rainy day. He didn’t need this frustration. An annulment crossed his mind. Then all his troubles would be solved. Would Gillian agree to one? Is that what he truly wanted?
Gillian’s sigh drew his attention. “Listen, I am aware I owe you, and I am completely grateful, but we can’t do this. It’s wrong. You know it is. What kind of marriage could we possibly hope for, when we said the words of commitment under duress?”
Tell her she’s right. She’s giving you a way out. “I see. Is this the only reason?” His gaze hardened and even to him his voice sounded guarded. “There’s someone else, isn’t there? The man you mentioned—Jerry, is it him?”
Her gaze riveted to him. “No,” she answered. “It isn’t Jerry, but there is someone else.”
“Where is this man?” Something akin to jealousy seeped into his pores, catching him off guard. He blinked trying to shake the emotion away. Yes, he married her, but he had no claim on her heart. “Did he abandon you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Either he has or he hasn’t.” He couldn’t stop himself from wanting the answers, needing to know who held her affections. “Who is he?” he demanded.
He watched as different emotions flitted across her face. “Does it matter? I don’t know where he is.”
“Would you tell me if you did know?” Zachary’s eyes narrowed.
“No.”
He remained quiet for a moment, studying her. He realized his unorthodox marriage was becoming more complicated with every turn. If she were in love with another man, he wouldn’t force himself upon her. After all, he wasn’t a complete cad. “So…” he continued, “…we are at a quandary. If you cannot willingly be my wife in the conventional way, then an annulment is in order. Don�
�t you agree?” He wanted her to say no.
She nodded slowly. “It would be for the best. Don’t you think?”
“I suppose it would.” He should be rejoicing. She wanted to set him free. So why did he feel cornered, with no other choice but to concede to her wishes? “What am I to do with you until other arrangements can be made?”
“Maybe, I can work for you. Is there anything that I could offer for services?”
Zachary’s mouth curved in a devilish grin, his eyebrows lifting.
“Besides that,” she answered before he could comment. “Do you need a cook? I’m pretty handy in the kitchen.”
“No, I have Dora, my housekeeper. She usually stays here and helps. Can you sew? I always seem to have things that need mending, and Dora would appreciate the help.”
“No. Unfortunately, I never mastered the patience to learn.”
They both were silent for a moment, trying to come up with something. Zachary didn’t want to think up an imaginary job. He didn’t want her to be his employee. He wanted her to be… He didn’t finish the thought because it disturbed him. Certainly, he couldn’t be thinking he really wanted to have a wife. He had important matters to take care of before he contemplated marriage. For one he needed to come up with a better plan to win Creighton Manor back. This would take his full and undivided attention. He didn’t have time for a wife. “What did you do before you ended up in my room aboard the Ida Belle?”
“I’m a school teacher.”
“You’re a school teacher?" Somehow, he found this unbelievable, for his image of a schoolteacher was someone… well, someone a little more matronly. "Where did you teach?”
“Huntington Beach, California.”
“I’ve never heard of—” he started, but she interrupted.
“I taught fourth graders. I love kids. They have a way of looking at the world that grownups have forgotten.” She chuckled and looked away.
Creighton Manor Page 4
