Spinning away, she grabbed a bottle of aspirin out of the cabinet and laid two on the counter. After filling both glasses with water, she tossed back the tablets and drank down the contents of one. Without asking if he wanted a drink, Becci set the other glass within Caleb’s reach and settled into her chair. “Tell me your story, Caleb. I really would like to hear it.”
Caleb took his hat off and rolled the brim. When he looked back up his expression held no visible emotion. “I’d hoped the horse would be mine someday, but they had a boy of their own. Newly born. When he turned five, they booted me out because I’m a ‘bastard’ and they didn’t want me corrupting their son.”
“How old were you?”
“Eleven when he took me in. Sixteen when I left.”
Becci felt the pain in her heart. “I’m sorry.”
Caleb met her green-eyed gaze, saw the sympathy glistening in them, and turned away. He didn’t want Becci’s pity. Why had he told her that story? Not even Rebecca knew about the hurt he’d felt at the family’s rejection.
He shrugged off the memory. At least Becci hadn’t bristled at his confession of having no name. He shook his head and let his gaze meet hers again.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Becci. It wasn’t a bad life. The man paid me a good wage and kept me fed, even if he didn’t let me forget I had no pa. I should have known it wasn’t permanent. When the time came for me to leave, he handed me some saddlebags with a day’s supply of food and said thanks. It was time. I was a grown man and needed to make a life for myself. Besides, it’s long since past.”
Becci chuckled. “You can say that again. By my calculations, about one hundred and eighty years. Give or take a year or two.”
“Yeah, seventeen for me. Give or take.”
Caleb tossed his hat on the table and picked up the glass of water. He stared at the contents for a moment, drained it and handed the glass to Becci. He pointed at the carafe on the counter. “Is that coffee?”
“Yeah.” Becci pushed herself up and went to the counter. She’d thought her stab at humor would put a smile on his face. All it had done was make him more pensive.
“What did you do after you left the farm?” She poured them both a cup of coffee and slid back into her chair.
Caleb didn’t meet her gaze head on, but watched her reflection in the window. “The day I was ordered out, I spent every penny I’d saved on a bottle of cheap whiskey and a lady of the evening just to prove that whether I had a name or not, I was a man. It turned out to be the best investment I ever made.”
Becci’s hazy image in his peripheral vision held his attention. He didn’t dare look at the real woman sitting so close. She had joked about his past, whether out of jest or ridicule, he didn’t know. Once women of his era learned of his birthright they treated him with reproach and taunted him with cruel words and glances, unless they decided to tinker with danger. He’d been able to stay in Raleigh longer than any other place. He’d been asked about his family background the week before Rebecca invited him to move to Berclair Manor. He hadn’t lied, and the taunts from the townspeople had begun within the day.
Caleb faced Becci. Like Saul and Rebecca, Becci was different. Although he’d known her less than a week, he felt a friendship with her he’d felt with few others. And friends didn’t turn away when they learned about things in your life you had no control over. Things like having no father, or having a mother who sold herself to feed her offspring, shouldn’t be dumped on the child’s shoulders. But he’d learned firsthand how cruel the world could be for a bastard.
“Why do you say that a bottle of cheap whiskey and a . . . um . . . lady were the best investment you ever made?”
As she asked the question, Caleb watched the blush of embarrassment color her cheeks. He lowered his gaze and studied the strange-smelling coffee before taking a tentative sip. He set the cup down and faced the window.
He’d told her this much, and she’d had the gumption to ask, so he might as well let her know the whole story. “Lola, the woman I bought, took the bottle of whiskey away from me and asked what happened to make me turn to the spirits. I told her, and we talked for almost two hours. She refused to take me in the way a woman of her profession usually would and, instead, introduced me to an old man who taught me how to make furniture.”
Their eyes met in the window’s reflection, but he couldn’t see clear enough to know what Becci thought about his story. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter what she thought, but it did. He had to know. Slowly, he faced her, ready for the worst. Her expression held no rebuke, and if she pitied him, it didn’t show in her eyes. The corners of her mouth suddenly curved upwards, and a series of emotions slipped across her face that he couldn’t define. But he saw no sign of rejection in her green eyes. Without thinking, Caleb leaned forward, traced the contour of her jaw, and shifted her head until they faced each other. He eased closer until he felt the warmth in the nervous sigh she expelled.
“Enough about me,” he murmured, knowing he was being too forward. She belonged to another man. He let his knuckles linger on her cheek a fraction longer than proper before he lowered his hand to his coffee cup. For a long moment their gazes held. Then she closed her eyes, breaking the connection.
He cleared his throat, swallowed hard and chose an impersonal subject for them to discuss. “Tell me about these automobiles. Is the mustang as fast as its namesake?”
“Faster.”
He heard the tremor in the single word. He should never have touched her, but her womanly softness pulled him like the tide sweeping the shoreline of a distant sea.
Tentatively, he brushed her knuckles with one finger. When she didn’t pull away from him, he traced a line up her arm to her shoulder and on to her face. He cupped his hand to her cheek. So soft. His heart raced as she leaned into his palm and feathered a kiss to his callused hand. Only a whisper touch, yet he felt it deep in his very soul.
Heaven help him, he wanted her more than any woman he’d ever met. He wanted to feel her womanly curves against his hardened muscles—flesh pressing flesh. Body to body in the most intimate way a man could be with a woman.
Closing his eyes, he let the sensations flow freely. He had no right to want this woman. He shouldn’t crave the feel of her lips, nor have this aching need to take her in his arms. Not just because she belonged to Ascott, but because a lady such as Becci deserved more than he could provide.
Slowly, he drew his hand away and tried to force back the raw desire that battled within him. No matter how long he lived, he would never be worthy enough to make Becci his wife, even if he ended up staying in this time.
Caleb tipped his chair back and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. Hopefully it would keep him from touching her again.
“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, his voice sounded unusually husky, even to his own ears.
Becci pushed a curl away from her face and drew in a deep breath. Caleb had asked the question in his usual tone, his voice laced with a husky, controlled calmness she couldn’t believe. He’d touched her, but he wasn’t even affected, while her heart raced at the speed of an Indy car, and her hands trembled from the effects of his caress.
She tried to hide the tremors by removing the pins holding her hair in the tight twist. Michael preferred she wear her it up when they went out. She hated it. Finger combing the lengths, she divided them into three equal parts and began braiding it for the night.
“No,” she answered honestly. “Michael and I argued tonight because he thinks I should quit school and give up the idea of the nursery. Just because we’re engaged he has no right to tell me what to do, and I’m tired of him pressuring me to sign the papers giving him permission to sell my house.”
“You’re going to school?”
She nodded, and he added, “Very few women of my time took to book learning bey
ond reading. What are you studying?”
“Nursing. I need the degree because the law requires a qualified medical person in any facility where newborn babies are cared for. That’s the kind of nursery that’s most needed in this area, and that’s the kind I want to open.”
“Won’t you have enough problems taking care of your own children?”
“I . . . we’re not going to have any children.”
“Not have children? Not even one?”
“No.” She stopped weaving her hair and looked up. “Michael doesn’t want children. Besides, we plan to live in an apartment if we have to sell the manor, so there wouldn’t be room for kids. And I won’t know if I have to sell until we find out whether or not we get the grant money.”
He started to tell her she couldn’t sell the house, but he knew he didn’t have any say in the matter. “What will happen to the house if you sell it?”
“The developer interested in the property wants to put in a gas station.”
“A what?”
Becci finished braiding her hair, and while holding the ends together scooted her chair back until she could reach the junk drawer. She pulled out a scrunchy and secured the woven lengths before she said, laughing, “A gas station. It’s where you buy the fuel that runs cars. Automobiles are called cars for short.”
Caleb stiffened. “You’re laughing at me, Becci. I’m not an uneducated man. But I’m learning a whole new world, and I don’t deserve your ridicule. What I’m discovering now are things you’ve known about all your life. Thanks to the books, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. The only thing that could make it better would be to learn everything firsthand from a well-instructed guide.”
Becci cringed at his offended expression. “I’m sorry, Caleb. I wasn’t making fun of you. It’s just that it seems impossible for someone not to know what a gas station is.”
“That’s why I need someone to teach me. Will you do it?”
“I’m sorry, Caleb, but no. I have so much to do right now. I have to plan the party for the Ascomp employees, and the house has to be ready for the inspector. I don’t have time to teach you.”
She saw the flicker of disappointment skitter over his face before he slid the emotional shield back into place. She felt guilty, but she had to say no. Teaching Caleb would mean more contact with him. Part of her wanted to stay by his side and teach him everything he needed to know, while the other part wanted to run from the fiery attraction he spurred inside her.
Caleb slowly rocked his chair back and forth before he replied. “Don’t worry, Becci. Miss Lilly has agreed to teach me. I had just hoped you would also help.”
His flat response left her feeling like a coward. No, she wanted to shout, you don’t understand. But how could she explain without letting Caleb know about the attraction she felt toward him? She searched for a safe topic. They’d discussed her work, the house, and cars. What was left?
“Michael asked me to get everything to look as realistic as possible for the party. I know it won’t be perfect because of the changes that have been made over the years, but I’ve got to do my best for Aunt Lilly. Selling the antiques will give us enough money to open the nursery. Do you have any suggestions to help make it seem realistic?”
Caleb raked his hand through his hair and visualized the house as it had been in 1836. She was right. Nothing would bring it back to its original state, but he had an idea.
“If you want the party to take on the air of that time, you could dress for the occasion. I found some of Saul’s and Rebecca’s clothes in a cedar-lined chest in the shed. You’re about Rebecca’s size. You could wear one of her dresses,” Caleb suggested.
“And you could wear something of Saul’s.”
He went very still. “That sounds like an invitation. Do you really want me around all those people?”
She heard the bitterness in his words. She met his gaze. “Yes. I do.”
“I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“You won’t embarrass me. You might even enjoy discussing the antiques with people in the group.”
“Yeah. Since I made everything, I should be able to hold my own.”
“I can see us now.” Excitement colored her voice, and Caleb felt a strange tightness in his chest. “Using the clothes to create the atmosphere of the eighteen hundreds is a fantastic idea. Everything is going to be perfect. Oh, Caleb, thank you! I can’t wait for the party.”
Without thinking Becci leaped forward to hug Caleb and sent them both toppling backwards. She ended up on top of him with her arms wrapped around his neck.
Becci laughed. He tapped one of the long crystal earrings and smiled up at her. His gaze flicked from her eyes to her lips. She couldn’t resist the temptation to press her mouth to his. She lowered her head and, with a gentle sweep of her tongue, probed lightly until he parted his lips. He groaned and met her kiss with a reluctant, feathery touch that sent a ripple of passion washing over her.
A blaze of heat followed the trail of Caleb’s hands as he brushed them over her hips. Even through the layer of silk and satin, his touch created more feelings than she had ever experienced. He pressed her closer, and there was no mistaking the extent of his desire for her.
In one swift twist, he changed their positions, and his kiss turned hungry. She couldn’t stop him—had no desire to stop him. She’d wanted this almost from the moment she’d seen him slump to the floor by the dresser.
With a sharp curse, he pulled his mouth away from hers and buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. “We can’t do this, Becci. Ascott could raise a gun to me, and no one would care.”
Becci brushed a lock of hair from her face. She was still quivering inside, and she’d never reacted to Michael like this. She should feel mortified by her actions, but she wasn’t. She hadn’t had the courage to break her engagement to Michael tonight, but now she knew she had to. “You’re right. We can’t do this. It isn’t fair to Michael, but the law has changed. If Michael shot you for kissing me, he would go to jail for murder.”
Caleb rolled away, and she sat up. Leaning against the wall, she studied his prone figure. His chest arched with each deep breath. One arm covered his eyes, and the other rested limply over his stomach.
She sympathized with his struggle to regain his shattered control. At least he’d had the power to suppress the fire she’d unwittingly created.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He dropped his arm and turned his gaze to her. “I’m not. I’ve wanted to see if what happened the first time we kissed would happen again. I guess I found out.”
Caleb kept his eyes on her as he pushed to his feet and extended his hand. She cupped her fingers in his and let him pull her to her feet. He released her hand and instinctively locked his arms around her in a loose embrace. He knew he should walk away from her, but he couldn’t seem to do so.
Becci rested her hands on his chest, slowly slid her hands up his shoulders to his neck and curled her fingers into the hair at his nape. Her green eyes revealed a desire that matched his own, but he knew she would never forgive him if he succumbed to the temptation.
“It’s late,” he finally said.
His eyes, full of uncensored desire, burned into Becci. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Her blood thrummed through her veins and heated her cheeks. The tremor of their kiss still vibrated through her. What would he do if she kissed him again?
She knew the answer. If she tempted him again, he wouldn’t want to stop, and neither would she. This handsome, sexy stranger, who claimed to be from the past, created a rush of excitement in her. But she couldn’t give in to her lust. Even if he stayed in this time, Caleb had nothing to offer her.
Nothing. And she’d spent her life with nothing. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t live like that any longer.
>
She let her hands drop to her sides. “We can discuss the party tomorrow.”
Caleb nodded.
“I won’t . . . this won’t happen again.”
Caleb nodded again. “I understand. I may be unfamiliar with what’s proper in society today, but I am an honorable man. If I can’t control my feelings for you, I’ll pack up and leave.”
“Were you running away from what you believed to be an impossible situation when you passed through time?”
He turned away, and she followed his gaze to their blurred image in the bowed window. “No. I gave my word to protect Luke and Rebecca. I planned to ask Rebecca to marry me. It would have been improper, but it was the only way to keep my promise to Saul.”
Becci watched him struggle for the right words, wondering what promise he’d made to Saul, but she was afraid if she asked he’d stop talking, and she wanted—needed—to know what he had to say.
“You’re a lot like Rebecca,” he continued. “She didn’t care what people thought. She went with what she felt, proper or not. She is—was—a fine woman and a true friend.”
“You loved her.”
“No.” Caleb shook his head as he spoke. “We were just friends. She was Luke’s mother, and Luke was my godson.”
He glanced up, and Becci almost gasped at the raw need still burning in his eyes.
“I cared for Rebecca, but I never touched her as a husband would touch a wife. I have more feelings for you than I ever felt for her or for Elizabeth. I think it has something to do with what’s here,” he said, tapping his chest lightly. “Contrary to my reputation, the nuns taught me to be a gentleman. That is why I will not give in to the temptation. You are another man’s woman. As I’ll not be here for an extended period, it would not be proper for me to try to steal your affections.”
Caleb retrieved his hat, put it on and adjusted it, deciding he’d better leave before he made everything he’d just said a lie. “If you’ll leave a list of chores with Miss Lilly, I’ll make sure they’re finished early so we can plan this party of yours. I’ll even try to decipher the journals and look for the gold. As I said before, I only need the orichalc. The rest is yours.”
Keeper of the Key Page 15
