CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Gillian packed what she needed for the trip. She worried about spending the day with Zachary, but at the same time, her heart quickened at the thought.
She sat heavily on the bed. What if she never went back to her time? What would she do? Could she remain married to Zachary? He was handsome, and honorable. If they had met under different circumstances, she would have liked him. However, was this enough to spend the rest of her life with him? She was stuck in the same dilemma that she’d been in with Jerry. Would it be fair to Zachary that she would be pining for a man in her dreams?
Of course, there was one difference between Jerry and Zachary. Gillian had known she wasn’t in love with Jerry. She wasn’t sure what she felt about Zachary. She’d say she was only infatuated with him, but the words rang false. Zachary had kissed her—among other things—and he had turned her convictions upside down. She wasn’t sure if sexual tension was a qualification for having a long-term relationship, but it didn’t really matter. She doubted she would have the luxury of finding out. Zachary would win Creighton Manor and she would have to make the decision to stay with him or not. Did she want a man who thought of her as a possession? Of course she didn’t, she answered herself. She’d be a fool to think she did, but there was something in the way Zachary held her and looked at her. Would she be willing to find out what it was?
She sighed with frustration. “Why am I dwelling on this? I’ll probably go back to my time. I’ll have my life back and Zachary will be but a distant memory.”
***
By mid morning they were on their way. Zachary didn’t push the horses. He took them by another part of town where magnificent mansions stood up on the hill. Unlike other southern towns during the Civil War, Natchez had escaped being burned down to the ground.
Zachary pulled back on the reins and stopped the carriage.
“What are you doing?” Gillian looked at him. He turned in his seat and looked up. She followed his gaze. The large white house towered above all the others. The lower story had large columns, while smaller columns adorned the upper portion. In the front, there were live oak trees, dripping with Spanish moss. They nearly covered the French style roof. She could imagine the garden that once adorned the walkway. It was impressive to say the least. Even before Zachary spoke, she knew why they’d stop. This was the house that haunted him. This was Creighton Manor.
She placed her hand over his. “It’s beautiful. I can see why you hold it so dear.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s not just a house to me. This place is my family, my childhood and my memories of before…when life was simple. We were happy here.” His voice choked with passion.
Tenderness swept through her as she realized what he had lost and how he had wanted to share it with her, to let her know a part of him that he kept secret from the rest of the world.
He squeezed her hand before letting go. Then he clicked his tongue to put the horses into motion. He didn’t say much the rest of the journey, but occasionally he’d glance her way with a smile.
They arrived at Yorkshire’s Linens and Lace only to find the store closed with a sign stating to come back tomorrow morning. The town bustled with activity as people hurried along with packages in tow.
Zachary finally stopped one of the citizens to find out what was going on. They were told that there was a festival being held and they were welcome to join in the fun. Zachary thought it would be a good idea to go to the hotel, first. He picked up their bags and they entered the dimly lit establishment. It took them a few minutes for their eyes to adjust but once they did, Gillian noticed that the hotel was actually very quaint, reminding her of a bed and breakfast inn.
A man sat behind the desk. He had a round face, huge brown eyes and absolutely no hair. When he smiled, he had one dimple that creased his right cheek. "Hello.” His voice was deep and friendly. "Welcome to the Bowyer Hotel. I'm Mr. Bowyer. Are you looking to have a room?"
"Yes, we are.” Zachary approached the desk and put down their overnight bags. Gillian followed close behind.
Mr. Bowyer opened a large book, picked up his quill, and dipped it into the ink. "So let me guess. You two are on your honeymoon. It is a fine time for you to be here, too. There's a festival going on, you know. There are games, pie eating contests and Mabel’s famous meatloaf. You'll have a wonderful time of it."
Zachary didn’t correct the man about them being on their honeymoon. He just smiled and played along. "My wife and I had no idea we would have such luck. We can't wait to join in on the fun."
"Well, let's get you signed in. Can I have your names?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Zachary Creighton.”
Gillian realized for the first time they’d be spending the night in the same room and in one bed. She turned her gaze on Zachary wondering if he realized the situation. He wouldn’t look at her. He did know. Anger poured through her for not realizing it sooner herself. I refuse to sleep with him. Oh and he’d know that soon enough, too.
Mr. Bowyer wrote very slowly in the book, and then he turned the book around so Zachary could place his signature next to what he had written. Then Mr. Bowyer stood and went over to the key peg. After careful consideration, he picked out a key on the top and came back to the desk. "This is the best room in the place. Being you’re on your honeymoon and all, I thought it appropriate." He handed the key to Zachary and pointed toward the stairs. "The room is the last one on the right."
"Thank you, Mr. Bowyer." Zachary finally looked at her. "Are you ready, dear?” He didn't wait for an answer. He picked up the bags and headed in the direction that Mr. Bowyer had indicated.
The room was large with a water basin next to the window, a dresser, a chair and of course one bed. She latched onto Zachary’s gaze.
"Well, you didn't expect me to say we wanted separate rooms did you? How would that look?" he defended himself.
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to." He went over to the window and looked outside to see what the view held. Not looking at her, he said, "I'll sleep on the floor."
"You’re darn right—" Gillian stopped in mid-sentence when Zachary turned to look at her, his eyes flashing with anger.
"Listen, I said I would sleep on the floor." He looked like he was going to say more, but then decided not to. Instead, he took a deep breath. When he spoke again, he had softened his voice. "Can we call a truce? I don't want to fight."
The change in his attitude surprised her, but the truth was she didn’t want to fight either. "I'm sorry," she offered. "A truce would be nice."
"Good. If you’re ready let’s see what the town has to offer." They reached the area where most of the town congregated and a tall lanky man ran toward them. "We be needin’ couples to run the three legged race. Are you game?"
Zachary glanced at Gillian. Her smile was all the encouragement he needed. "Sure,” Zachary answered. "Where do we go?"
He pointed to the left. "See the pretty young lady with the dark ringlets. She's lining everyone up. Hurry up. I still want to round up a few more people." He started running off, but called over his shoulder. "Meet you there."
The girl with the dark ringlets handed Zachary and Gillian a scarf to tie around their legs. They stood next to another couple. They were hashing over their strategy of how they were going to win the race.
Zachary cupped his hand and whispered to Gillian, “I think they’ll have another thing coming.”
“I’m with you.”
He looked down at her and grinned.
The sharp bang indicated the race had started. Zachary wrapped his arm around Gillian’s shoulder and she held onto his waist. They ran as fast as they could. Most of the couples fell by the time they were about to reach the finish line, but the couple who had discussed their strategy with such detail was still up and hopping. Zachary and Gillian were neck to neck with them. Zachary took one look at the gleam in Gillian’s eye and smiled. Another trait about his wife, he hadn’
t known: She didn’t like to lose. Zachary pushed a little harder, making them finish just a mere second before the other couple.
The judge walked over to Gillian and Zachary with a broad smile. “I declare you two the winners!”
Zachary grabbed Gillian by the waist and spun her around. The judge laughed, enjoying their merriment. As soon as Zachary placed Gillian on the ground, the judge handed them a blue ribbon. “Pin it on your little lady.”
Zachary turned to her. “Do you mind?”
She shook her head. He fumbled with the fabric, but finally he managed without pricking her skin. He met her gaze still smiling. He wished she didn’t look so damn beautiful with her hair loose from the pins and trailing down her shoulders. Her gaze caressed him, set him on fire. He gripped her shoulders. He wondered what she’d say if he claimed his prize and kissed her. One way to find out. He leaned down.
“Hey, you two.”
Zachary cursed under his breath and turned to see the lanky looking man waving them down. “We need another bloke for the pie-eating contest.”
“I don’t think—”
“Oh come on.” Gillian nudged him.
“Fine. Where do we go?”
“Follow me.”
Unbelievably, the lanky looking man, whose name they found out was Henry Simmons, won. Where he had put nine pies, they couldn’t even begin to imagine.
"So, do you want to get something to eat?" Gillian teased.
Zachary rolled his eyes and rubbed his stomach. "I do hope you are joking?"
"You don't want to try the meatloaf?”
"Please don't mention food." He took her hand. "Let's check out the game booths."
They talked and mingled and later on in the evening, they did try Mabel’s meatloaf. It was just as delicious as Mr. Bowyer claimed it would be.
As soon as the sun had set, the torches were lit and the band took the stage.
“Now this is what I miss.” Gillian smiled.
“What? Music?”
She looked at him. “Yeah. I’m used to having music at my fingertips.”
His brows drew together. “How is that possible?”
“There are CDs, I-pods, and radios. With a flip of a switch, you have a song.”
He smirked. “I don’t know what those contraptions are, but live music cannot be beat.”
“I’ve been to concerts. Perhaps, you’re right.”
“Perhaps?” He shook his head. “Stay right here.” He headed for the stage.
“Zachary, what are doing?”
He didn’t look back. He jumped on the stage and drew aside the band member with the guitar. The man had gray curly hair and a contagious smile. He wore bright red suspenders that he liked to snap. He nodded to Zachary and handed him his guitar.
“What are you up to, Zachary?” she whispered.
“Ladies and gents,” the gray-haired band member shouted. “We have a surprise tonight.”
There were catcalls and whistles.
The man waved his hands to settle everyone down. “Mr. Creighton will be honoring us with a song.”
“Hey, he’s cute!” A pretty blonde shouted. “Are you taken, honey?”
Gillian glared at her.
“Afraid so, Ora Ann,” the man on the stage told her. “This here fellow is going to serenade his bride.” He pointed to Gillian. She knew she must have turned three shades of red as all eyes turned her way.
She met Zachary’s gaze. His shoulder lifted in a shrug as he strummed the guitar. He really was going to sing to her. Her hand went to her chest at the sweet gesture.
“Dear sweet lady, come dance with me in the moonlight, come dance with me.” His deep voice touched her like a caress as he sang the sweet ballad. “Let me hold you close as we let the music sway us… Come dance with me in the moonlight, come dance with me.” When the song ended, everyone cheered and clapped.
Tears sprung to Gillian’s eyes.
He made his way back to her with a twinkle in his striking blue gaze.
“That was beautiful, Zachary.”
“Better than the DC-pod.”
She chuckled but didn’t correct him. “So much better. Thank you.”
“Do I deserve a kiss?” He pointed to his cheek.
“Absolutely.” She leaned forward to plant a kiss on his cheek but he turned his head and their lips met. She smiled. “Sneaky aren’t you.”
“You bet.” He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, bringing her closer. Slowly, lazily and never taking his eyes off her, he lowered his mouth to hers with a sweet kiss, an unhurried kiss that set her toes curling within her shoes. When he released her, he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Do you want to dance pretty girl?” A wicked smile spread across his face.
Oh yeah, she’d love to dance … in the moonlight … She shook her head and took a deep breath, while she reminded herself again why she shouldn’t sleep with her gorgeous husband. You don’t belong here. She cleared her throat. “Yes.” She looked toward the dance floor. “I’d love to dance.”
On the dance floor, she leaned against him as the band played a slower tune. His arms slid around her making her feel safe. She didn’t want to fight with him. She didn’t want him to mistrust her. Maybe, she could manage both with patience. Maybe she could make him understand why she would have to leave him in the end.
Later, they walked back to the hotel hand in hand, but once the door to the room shut for the night, awkwardness blanketed their actions.
Gillian sat on the edge of the bed completely lost for words. They were married and they’d had sex, but they hadn’t slept in the same room. Nervously she played with the threads of the comforter and thought how ridiculous that sounded.
Gillian enjoyed Zachary’s company tonight. He had a carefree nature when he was away from his obsession with Creighton Manor. How she wished he could be the guy she longed for, the man who would love her. She knew he desired her. She felt it in the way his gaze lingered over her like a caress, but desire and love weren’t the same thing.
Zachary cleared his throat. "If you want to get ready for bed first, I'll look the other way."
Gillian knew her cheeks turned pink. “Sure, thanks.” What was the point? He’d already seen her naked. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had seen him: Lean, muscular, his broad chest tapered nicely down to slim hips. She looked away. They were going to sleep. Nothing else was going to happen. She took a deep breath, forcing her feet to walk over to her suitcase. Before she started to undress, she glanced over her shoulder. Zachary was good to his word. He stared out the window. He clenched his teeth. The telltale sign throbbed at the sides of his jaw. This situation was uncomfortable for him as well.
She dressed and jumped into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “Okay, I’m done.” She watched him like a hawk.
He turned to face her and frowned. “I won’t take advantage of you.”
“I know.” His gaze landed on her clenched hands and she loosened her grip.
He took the pillow she wasn’t using and tossed it on the floor. "I'll snuff out the light."
"Sure." Gillian glanced at the empty spot on the big comfortable bed and felt a stab of guilt. How could she let him sleep on the hard floor, while she slept in comfort? “Zachary.”
He had leaned down to blow out the light, but hesitated when she spoke his name. He didn't turn around, but waited for her to continue.
“You know…if you want to… I don't mind… I mean we’re adults, right? Just because we’re sleeping in the same bed doesn’t mean we have to have sex. You don’t have to sleep on the floor if you don’t want to.”
He looked at her meeting her gaze. She recognized the desire there for it mirrored her own wants. She opened her mouth to say she changed her mind, but he extinguished the light. "Thank you.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I would appreciate it.”
She couldn’t see him clearly in the dark, but she could definitely hear him undressing. She rolled on
to her right side so her back would be toward him. Her heart pounded in her chest. She felt his weight on the other side of the mattress.
"Goodnight, Gillian.”
"Goodnight." Her voice cracked and she closed her eyes, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
They were silent for a long time, neither one able to sleep as they became acutely aware of how close they were, yet they might as well have been in another room. They wanted desperately to reach out, but the intangible bridge they had created couldn’t be crossed.
An agonizing half hour or so had passed. Zachary knew that Gillian hadn’t fallen asleep either. He decided he couldn’t take it anymore and broke the silence. "Tell me about the future. What is it like?"
Gillian didn’t say anything at first and Zachary thought that maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe she had fallen asleep after all, but then she spoke. "Do you believe what I told you? I mean about me coming from the future?"
"Honestly, I don't know if I believe you or not. Maybe, I’m just afraid that it could be true. Can you blame me for that?"
"No. I guess not." She cleared her throat. "Where to begin? The future is a faster pace than it is here, but when I want to get away from all the bustle of the day, I head to the beach. I love to go there just to watch the waves and the sun set over the water. I wish you could see it."
"Maybe you can show me one day."
"Maybe,” but they both knew it was highly unlikely.
"Do you live with family?" Zachary asked nonchalantly, while hoping she wasn’t going to say she lived with Jerry.
"I live alone."
He hadn’t realized he held his breath until he let it out. "You don't need a man in your time?”
She chuckled. “We find men useful for a few things. We marry for love in my time at least, I think, most people do.”
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