Our Time Is Now Page 5

  “And let me tell you, I was absolutely floored to find out that one coin alone was worth two thousand dollars,” she informed her sleeping patient, figuring the dry-run was good practice for when she’d have to make the actual confession. “The man at the pawn shop said it was an authentic, 155-year-old golden eagle coin. But you probably already knew that, huh? And don’t worry, I’ve got receipts for everything.”

  Alarmingly, Gideon’s eyelids suddenly began to flutter. Moaning softly, he moved his head from side to side, as if he was trying to rouse himself from a deep slumber. A split-second later, Jessica found herself gazing into a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes.

  In those super-charged moments, a spark of recognition flashed between them. Jessica became absolutely certain that she knew Gideon MacAllister from somewhere.

  Without so much as moving a muscle, Gideon stared at her with what could only be described as a look of profound longing.

  Continuing to hold her in that steadfast gaze, Gideon secured a hand around each of her upper arms as he pulled her toward him. There was nothing rough or forceful in his manner; he was merely determined. Inexplicably excited, Jessica drew in a serrated breath. Having lost the ability to think clearly, she instinctively anchored her hands against Gideon’s shoulders. As though she’d just stuck a wet finger in a light socket, all ten fingers began to tingle.

  In slow, unhurried fashion, Gideon appraised her flushed face before his gaze slid down her neck, finally coming to a rest on her visibly heaving chest. Glancing downward, Jessica saw that her nipples were indecently outlined against her cotton T-shirt.

  Breathlessly attuned to the impassioned silence that vibrated between them, Jessica knew that she had to pull away from him. Now. Before it was too late.

  Although that was what she’d intended to do, her body simply refused to comply with her brain’s “retreat” order. If anything, her heart contrarily demanded that she stay put, certain that if she remained there long enough, Gideon would—

  Yes. Just as her rebellious heart had hoped, Gideon raised his head to kiss her.

  The instant that his lips touched hers, Jessica insanely thought that she may very well have been waiting for this moment her entire life. Even crazier than that, she was hit with a jolt of all-encompassing familiarity, too enthralled to ponder how such a thing could even be possible.

  What began as a sweetly tender kiss snowballed into something else entirely. Gideon deepened the kiss, one intimate degree at time. As he suckled on her lower lip, a muffled whimper of pleasure lodged in Jessica’s throat. Welcoming his ardent exploration, she opened her mouth, reveling in the twining of lips and tongues.

  And, boy, did it feel good. The kind of good that made her heart pound and her hips twitch. Eager for more, she brazenly smashed her breasts against Gideon’s torso. When he shuddered against her, Jessica deduced that he was as deeply affected by the kiss as she was.

  Needing to pull air into her lungs, Jessica had no choice but to break the connection between their two mouths. With his eyes closed, Gideon moved a hand to the back of her neck and let his lips blaze a trail along the column of her neck.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured, his lips now traversing the line of her jaw.

  Jessica instantly froze, disbelieving what she’d just heard.

  How can you miss someone that you don’t even know? Unless you think you’re kissing someone else.

  Jerking away from Gideon, she saw that his eyes were still firmly closed. She had the sudden, sickening realization that he was sound asleep. Completely lost in the land of Nod from the looks of it. And obviously in the throes of one heck of a hot dream.

  With an undignified shriek, Jessica lunged off the sofa bed. Grabbing the nearby armchair for support, she inhaled several deeps gulps of air, her legs wobbling unsteadily beneath her.

  Just then, Gideon moaned in his sleep, his hips erotically thrusting upward.

  “I can’t believe that I just saw that,” she gasped, horrified to think that Gideon was doing a lot more than merely kissing his dream woman.

  Appalled, she yanked the woolen blanket up to his chin, hoping that if she covered his writhing body, she could pretend that she wasn’t in the company of a sexually aroused male.

  Turning her back on him, Jessica touched her swollen lips, her body quivering with humiliation. That it could’ve happened in the first place was beyond comprehension. Gideon, at least, had the excuse of being asleep. Which was a lot more than what she had.

  But what about that heart-stirring interlude when he’d gazed up at her, peering into her eyes as if he could see into her very soul? In those electrifying seconds, Gideon had appeared very much awake.

  Suddenly hearing the peal of the hallway telephone, Jessica rushed out of the room to answer it, relieved when it turned out to be Bruce Stoddard.

  “We sure missed you last night at the reenactment ball.”

  “I’m sure that a good time was had by all.” As she spoke, Jessica impatiently drummed her fingers against the telephone stand, not in the mood for idle chitchat.

  “Although it took a bit of digging, I was able to uncover some facts about your mystery man Gideon MacAllister.”

  Elated to hear that, Jessica snatched a pencil and pad of paper out of a drawer. “Go ahead, Bruce. I’m ready.”

  “Well, I checked with our regimental historian and found out that Colonel Gideon MacAllister commanded the 8th Virginia Cavalry.”

  “Cavalry, gotcha.” Jessica quickly scribbled “8th Va Cav” onto the notepad. “Okay, what’s his phone number?”

  Her question was met with a boisterous chuckle.

  “First, you’ll have to find a long-distance telephone company that can connect you to the great beyond,” Bruce said, still chortling.

  “Huh? What are you talking about?”

  “Colonel MacAllister died in 1864, shortly after the Battle of Lewis Creek.”

  At those words, the pencil slipped from Jessica’s fingers, rolling along the table top before landing on the wood-planked floor.

  Desperately trying to collect herself, Jessica took a stabilizing breath before she said, “Are you absolutely certain about that, Bruce? Maybe one of your reenactors has the same name.”

  On the other end of the line, she heard Bruce rifle through several sheets of paper.

  “Nope, sorry,” he said a few seconds later. “There’s no Gideon MacAllister on the list. Like I said, Colonel MacAllister died in September of 1864 from pneumonia.”

  “Pneumonia!” Jessica was unable to hide her stunned disbelief. “You didn’t say anything about pneumonia.”

  “What’s wrong? Was this guy a relative of yours or something?”

  “No, um, not exactly,” she mumbled, wondering how Bruce Stoddard would react if she told him that, right before he called, she’d been groping a man who’d supposedly died a hundred and fifty years ago.

  “According to our historian, MacAllister and his men were covering the rear flanks during the Confederate retreat. Apparently, his horse was shot out from under him and, to escape capture by the Federals, he hid on the mountainside,” Bruce told her. “The records are kinda hazy as to where exactly he died. His home was in the vicinity, and it’s believed that he somehow managed to make his way there. No one really knows for sure since there’s no recorded grave site.”

  Jessica struggled to catch her breath, absolutely floored by what she’d just heard.

  “Jessica, are you still there?”

  “Yeah… yeah, I’m still here.” She glanced down, absently noticing that she’d twisted the telephone cord around her wrist. Slowly, she unraveled it. “Um, I need to go now.” That said, Jessica hung up the phone, forgetting to say good-bye.

  Reluctantly, she turned and walked toward the library, telling herself that there was a logical explanation for all of this. People cannot, repeat, cannot travel through time.

  As if it was a magical incantation, Jessica uttered the phrase several time
s, astounded that she’d even briefly considered such a ridiculous thing possible. It only testified to the strain she’d been under these last twenty-four hours.

  Intending to get to the bottom of what was fast becoming a deep, dark mystery, Jessica decided that the time had come to confront “Gideon MacAllister,” uncover his true identity, and then put him in the Bronco and drive him home. Obviously, her uninvited guest had taken his Confederate role-playing too far, which was why Bruce had been unable to identify him. Because Civil War reenactments drew throngs of people, many of whom traveled from miles away, she suspected that it was impossible to keep track of all the participants.

  Moments later, as she purposefully strode into the library, Jessica came to a shuddering halt. The entire room was blanketed in an inky darkness, the sun having set while she’d taken the call.

  Standing in what she gauged to be the middle of the room, Jessica used an outstretched arm to navigate her way toward the end table so that she could turn on a lamp.

  “Damn!” she cursed aloud as she stubbed her big toe against an unseen piece of furniture. Fumbling for the lamp, she accidentally knocked over a water glass. “Oh, for Pete’s sake.”

  Finally locating the light switch, she turned it on. The moment she did, she was grabbed from behind.

  Chapter 7

  “I intend you no harm,” Gideon assured the skittish female as he placed a hand on the small of her back in order to prevent the two of them from tumbling backward onto the bed. Given her loud shriek of surprise, he surmised that she’d not seen him sitting on the edge of the mattress.

  Caught off balance, the woman nonetheless toppled onto his lap.

  The instant that their two bodies came into contact, physical desire—raw, potent, and wholly unexpected—pulsed between his hips.

  It’d been nearly a year since his wife’s passing. Still in mourning, he’d not so much as glanced at another woman. After his beloved’s tragic death, he’d lost all interest in fleshly desires. And though his mind now commanded otherwise, his body, too long deprived, responded to the squirming female.

  At a loss for words, he tried not to stare at the woman’s immodest apparel. The auburn-haired beauty was garbed in trousers made from a well-worn, denim fabric and a shirt, such as it was, that resembled an abbreviated undergarment. If her aim was to look like a man, she fell short of the mark, for her garments only accentuated the fact that she was most definitely a woman.

  Ashamed of his wayward thoughts, Gideon hastily lifted the strangely clad female off of his lap.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to be up and about,” the lady said stiffly, protectively crossing her arms in front of her waist as her gaze nervously darted from his face to his torso.

  Gideon glanced downward, surprised to see that he was bare-chested. Mumbling an apology, he reached for his shirt, which was hanging from a nearby chair. Avoiding her gaze, he hurriedly plied his fingers to the buttons. As he did, his mind conjured an elusive memory of the auburn-haired beauty tenderly caressing him just before she—

  No. It had been his wife who’d caressed him in his dream. His wife who had kissed him so sweetly, so passionately. And it had been his wife whom he’d touched, held… Loved.

  Rising to his feet, Gideon teetered unsteadily, hit with a jolt of pain in his right temple. He pressed a hand to his head; the pain was nearly unbearable. Since arriving at Highland House, he’d not had a moment’s respite from the agonizing headache. As though his skull was encircled by an ever-tightening cinch.

  “I know that you’re not feeling up to par right now, but I need your telephone number so I can contact your family,” the woman announced in a brusque tone of voice.

  Only able to decipher a few of the words spoken to him, Gideon replied, “I have no family. Everyone I have ever known has long since become food for worms. Moreover, I am at a loss to understand why I have been spared.”

  An uneasy expression crept into the lady’s eyes as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “The doctor said that you might be somewhat, um, disoriented on account of your high fever.”

  “I am orientated enough to know that I am at Highland House,” he affirmed, suddenly feeling like the fabled storybook character Rip Van Winkle. “What I cannot account for is how so much time could pass in the blink of an eye.”

  Clearly displeased with his answer, the lady’s gaze narrowed. “Rather than playing this silly game, why don’t you tell me where you live? My Bronco is up and running, and I’d be only too happy to drive you home. In fact, we can leave right now. No doubt, your family, your neighbors, and even your dog, are all worried about you.”

  “Highland House is my home, madam.”

  “No. Highland House belongs to me,” the woman slowly enunciated, as though she was speaking to a half-wit. “And I’ve got a bill of sale and a property title to prove it.”

  Rightly brought to task, his ownership of Highland House very much a thing of the past, Gideon acquiesced with a deferential nod. “My apologies for being so presumptuous.”

  “No doubt, things are a little fuzzy around the edges because of your illness,” his hostess said with a hesitant smile. “Although you have to admit that it’s awfully odd for a man to walk into a stranger’s house, uninvited, and just collapse on the couch.”

  “I am as perplexed as you to know how I came to be here.” Gideon peered around the room, his gaze eventually landing on the strangely fashioned table lamp that brightly illuminated the entire room. Truly bewildered, he said, “A man traversing the boundaries of time is an absurd proposition, is it not? And though preposterous, that is exactly what seems to have transpired.”

  “Did you make the trip on a magic carpet or did the extraterrestrials teleport you to the twenty-first century?”

  Detecting a note of derision in her voice, Gideon said, “There are many mysteries of the universe for which I have no explanation.”

  “That’s it? That’s your answer? You’re just going to write this off as an unidentified, cosmic blooper, and expect me to believe you?”

  “Rest assured, madam, I am no charlatan.”

  “Will you please stop calling me ‘madam.’ It makes me feel like a—” The lady abruptly shook her head as she waved away the unspoken thought. “Never mind what it makes me feel like. My name is Jessica. Jessica Reardon.”

  He bent at the waist and said, “And I am Colonel Gideon MacAllister.”

  A discernible spark of annoyance immediately flashed in his hostess’s hazel-green eyes. “I know for a fact that your name is not Gideon MacAllister. Just a few minutes ago, I was on the telephone with someone who informed me that this Gideon MacAllister character died one hundred and fifty years ago. Now I’m no doctor, but you look very much alive to me.”

  “Be that as it may, ‘this Gideon MacAllister character’ and I are one and the same,” he doggedly maintained.

  Clearly exasperated, the lady rolled her eyes heavenward. “All right, fine. If you want me to call you ‘Gideon,’ then that’s what I’ll call you. Now will you please tell me where you live so I can take you home?”

  Gideon had only to glance at what used to be his library to know that, despite the neglect and damage of a century and a half, he was standing in the only home he’d ever known: Highland House.

  Suddenly restless, he walked over to the French doors on the other side of the room. “ ‘Things are not, and yet appear to be,’ ” he murmured dejectedly, thinking there was more than a germ of truth contained in Epictetus’ immortal observation.

  As he stared at the overgrown woodland that bordered the lawn, Gideon was certain that somewhere in the dark grove the beast still lurked. The same red-eyed, winged serpent that he’d glimpsed upon his approach to Highland House.

  Otherworldly creatures. Unexplained rifts in time.

  Have I gone completely mad?

  He’d known more than a few soldiers who’d lost, not only their will to live, but their wits as well. War could do that t
o a man. Drive him to the brink of self-destruction. Yet earlier in the day, he’d seen with his own eyes the newspaper printed with the date 2014. Even more damning, he’d perused the history book entitled Time-Life’s Illustrated Guide to the Civil War that detailed how the Confederacy had been defeated, General Lee having surrendered the army of northern Virginia at a place called Appomattox. The evidence was incontrovertible. He did travel through time.

  But how? And, more importantly, why?

  “Gideon, are you all right?” his hostess worriedly inquired, her image suddenly reflected in the window panes. “Maybe you should sit down,” she suggested, placing a solicitous hand on his forearm.

  Almost immediately, Gideon felt a tingly heat course up and down the length of his arm. Turning his head, he peered into Jessica Reardon’s eyes, noticing how the green irises were tinged with flecks of yellow and brown. The mirrors of the soul, her eyes seemed hauntingly familiar to him. Transfixed, he wondered why this woman, upon whom he’d never set eyes before yesterday, had repeatedly appeared in his fevered reveries.

  Could it be that, in his dream, he kissed her rather than his beloved wife?

  Angered that he would do such a thing, Gideon inwardly berated himself. Even if the kiss had only occurred in a dream, in that unconscious realm where no man had control, it felt like a betrayal to his beloved. No matter that she’d been dead nearly twelve months. No matter that he’d traversed one hundred and fifty years into the future. Their love had no beginning and no end.

  My heart shall forever belong to her.

  Somewhat guiltily, Gideon glanced at the feminine hand that rested lightly upon his forearm. It did not escape his notice that the lady wore no wedding band.

  As the tingling sensation became more pronounced, Gideon abruptly pulled away, perplexed by his strange reaction to the woman. Then, his mind made up as to what had to be done, he purposefully strode over to his saddlebag, in plain sight where he’d dropped it on the floor the previous evening. Going down on bent knee, he unbuckled it. When he found what he was searching for, he rose to his feet and approached Miss Reardon.