Our Time Is Now Read online

  Taking hold of the lady’s right hand, he braced himself against the electrifying reverberation that passed between them as he deposited four gold coins into her palm. “I trust that this will sufficiently pay for my lodging.”

  * * *

  Flabbergasted, Jessica stared at the four coins nestled in her open palm.

  “I don’t understand,” she murmured, admittedly dazzled by the gleaming bits of gold.

  “It would be remiss not to offer fair recompense for your hospitality.”

  Jessica shook her head to clear the proverbial cobwebs. “Are you asking me to rent you a room?”

  “That is precisely what I am doing.” Gideon jutted his chin at the four coins. “Is that a sufficient amount to cover my room and board?”

  After doing a quick mental calculation, she gulped and said, “More than sufficient. You’ve just given me somewhere in the neighborhood of a year’s worth of rent. Which is beside the point because—What I mean to say is—”

  At a sudden loss to remember the point that she wanted to make, Jessica involuntarily closed her fist around the four gold coins. Because of her dire monetary situation, she’d considered getting a roommate, albeit a female one, to help with the household expenses. Lord knew she could use the extra money.

  Whether Gideon MacAllister knew it or not, he’d just dangled a very alluring carrot in front of her. Certainly, his tempting offer would solve many of her short-term financial woes. Four coins at two thousand dollars apiece—more if she sold them to a certified coin dealer instead of a pawn broker—amounted to at least eight thousand dollars. Which meant that she could now afford to pay for some of the more urgent home repairs that she’d had to put on the back burner. And while there was no getting around Gideon’s weird delusion about traveling through time, for eight thousand dollars, she was willing to chalk it up to a case of temporary insanity induced by a high fever.

  Shifting the coins to her other palm, Jessica thrust out her right hand. “All right, Gideon MacAllister. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Visibly taken aback by the gesture, Gideon stared at her extended hand for several seconds before he finally sealed the agreement with a time-honored handshake. The moment their two palms touched, Jessica realized her mistake. A heated discharge ignited between them, one that instantly made her wonder if letting Gideon remain at Highland House was such a good idea after all.

  What if he tries to kiss me again? What if he tried to do more than kiss her? She hadn’t exactly spurned his advances the first time around. Even more worrisome, what if he turned out to be some sort of deranged sex maniac?

  “Miss Reardon, you’re staring at me as if I was Mephistopheles.”

  Oh, great. A well-read sex maniac.

  “I’m sorry for staring. It’s just that I, um…” Her voice trailed into silence as Jessica realized that she’d jumped to a completely unfounded conclusion. Since waking up, Gideon had been a perfect gentleman. More than likely, he had no conscious memory of the frenzied lip-lock that had earlier taken place between them.

  Affecting a cheery demeanor, she pocketed the four coins in her well-worn Levis. “Gee, I feel like the richest girl in Greenbrier County.”

  “It has always been my contention, Miss Reardon, that true wealth cannot be measured in terms of money,” Gideon intoned, the huskiness in his voice lending the sentiment a certain gravitas.

  Maybe it was because of Gideon’s long beard and sad, forlorn gaze, but for some inexplicable reason Jessica was suddenly put in mind of a woodcut engraving she’d once seen of a medieval crusader. A knight of old who’d sacrificed everything for his cause, his cross, his crown.

  “Don’t you think you should call me by my first name?” she invited with a friendly smile. “We are, after all, going to be roomies.”

  “As you wish,” he consented with a courtly nod of the head. Glancing at the open door, he then said, “If it wouldn’t inconvenience you, I’d like to be shown to my room now.”

  “Of course. I’ll take you right up. You look like you could use some rest.”

  Deciding to put him in the upstairs bedroom at the far end of the hall—the complete opposite end of the hall from her bedroom—Jessica grabbed the plastic pill bottles on the side table. “I had to pawn a gold coin to pay for your medicine,” she told him. “But don’t worry. I have your change. And all of the receipts, too.”

  “I am in your debt,” Gideon said as he started to gather his belongings. After tossing his saddlebag over his shoulder, he picked up his boots, gun holster, and scabbard. The effort evidently cost him as he immediately drew in a ragged breath.

  As they made their way to the foyer, Jessica warily glanced at the revolver protruding from his leather holster. Although it was menacing-looking, because Gideon was a Civil War reenactor she knew that it would be loaded with blanks per reenactment regulations.

  However, per Bruce Stoddard, there’d been no one at the reenactment by the name of Gideon MacAllister. Furthermore, Bruce had been unaware of any reenactor playing the role of the nineteenth-century Confederate colonel. Unwilling to dwell on that particular conundrum, Jessica shoved the inconvenient factoid into mental cold storage.

  When they reached the foot of the staircase, she came to a standstill. “I can give you the full tour when you’re feeling better. For the time being, all you really need to know is that the kitchen is behind the staircase, and the living room is on the opposite end of the house from the library.”

  A rueful expression crept into Gideon’s eyes as he glanced at the hallway’s dreary walls and drab woodwork.

  “I’m in the process of renovating, but it’s slow going,” Jessica explained, well aware that Highland House wasn’t exactly a model home.

  Slowly, Gideon ran a hand over the carved newel post, the gesture putting her in mind of a lover’s caress. “It used to be the color of Devonshire cream,” he remarked.

  Refusing to comment—figuring it would only lend credence to the outlandish notion that he’d magically beamed down from the nineteenth century—Jessica started up the stairs with Gideon following in her wake. Entering the guest bedroom a few moments later, she flipped on the overhead light. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Gideon’s awestruck gaze immediately focused on the wall plate before shifting to the ceiling fixture.

  Ignoring his rapt expression, she gestured to the naked bulb and said, “I’ll get a shade on that ASAP.” She was conscious of the fact that not only was the fixture an inhospitable eyesore, but that for eight thousand dollars Gideon deserved more than an old brass bed, a badly scarred writing desk, and a metal clothes cabinet.

  “Please do not trouble yourself,” Gideon said as he deposited his boots on the floor and set his weapons on top of the desk. “The accommodations suit me just fine.”

  “Since the doctor wants you to stay in bed, I’ll bring you a dinner tray,” Jessica said as she turned to leave.

  Taking her by surprise, Gideon gently took hold of her by the wrist, preventing her departure.

  “You do so remind me of someone,” he murmured. “But I am at a complete loss to know who that somebody might be.”

  So, he felt it too, she thought with no small measure of surprise as she gazed into Gideon’s cerulean blue eyes. Eyes that put her in mind of a clear sky on a bright summer’s day. Which was kind of ironic given that Gideon MacAllister seemed so utterly forlorn. Like he was present in body, but his mind, as well as his heart, were faraway.

  “I know what you mean. I keep thinking that we’ve previously met, but—” Jessica stopped in mid-sentence, belatedly realizing that she was being lured into a conversation that she did not wish to have. “But seeing as how you supposedly rode the magic bus through the mystical time portal that would be next to impossible.”

  Gideon held her gaze, a beseeching look in his eyes. “Is it so very difficult to believe my tale?”

  “Try flat-out impossible.”

  * * *

  Jessica clo
sed her book, the words having begun to blur on the page.

  “Lily Bart and everyone else in The House of Mirth will have to wait until tomorrow to board the yacht,” she murmured as she set the volume on the nightstand and turned off the bedside lamp.

  No sooner was the room plunged into darkness than Buster leaped onto the mattress, taking his customary place on the pillow next to hers.

  Smiling, she rolled over and gave her purring feline an affectionate rub under his chin. “Night, sweetie.”

  Utterly exhausted, it didn’t take long for Jessica to drift into a deep sleep, leaving the waking world far behind.

  Once she entered the dream realm, a door began to materialize within the murky shadows of the dreamscape. Opening it, she peered into an unfamiliar room where she saw a woman garbed in a long, white nightgown. Jessica immediately recognized the woman, who was her dream world avatar, a character named “Sarah.”

  As she stood on the threshold between the two worlds, Jessica waited for an invitation. Slightly turning her head, Sarah made eye contact with her.

  Connection made, Jessica stepped into the room and merged with her dream persona. The moment she did, she could feel Sarah’s every emotion, able to know her every thought.

  And there was no doubt in her mind that Sarah was mad as hell.

  Chapter 8

  Sweet Springs, Virginia

  Summer 1860

  Oh, but she was furious.

  Her stepmother had capriciously forbidden her from attending the Sweet Springs grand ball. Not only did her stepmother and fiancé Oren Tolliver disapprove of her newly formed acquaintance with Gideon MacAllister, but, in a cruel act of spite, her stepmother had locked her in their suite, making it impossible for her to inform Gideon that she would not be in attendance at the ball.

  To add insult to injury, she could now hear strains of music emanating from the hotel’s main ballroom. Crestfallen, her shoulders sagged as she exhaled a dejected sigh, the lively tune depressing her all the more.

  Certain that the Fates had plotted against her, Sarah shut the window and pulled the draperies closed. Since she was already dressed for bed, she decided to take what comfort she could in sleep.

  No sooner had she settled herself on the feather tick mattress than she heard a strange rat-a-tat-tat. Had it not been a clear August night, she would have sworn that hailstones were hitting the window pane.

  Curious, she pulled the heavy drapery aside to peer outside. Aghast at what she saw, she immediately yanked the drapery to one side and opened the window.

  “Whatever are you doing here?” she demanded to know as she leaned over the window sash.

  Standing several feet below her, resplendent in black evening attire, was Gideon MacAllister, the devil’s own grin stamped onto his handsome face.

  “The Knight of the Allegheny Mountains has once again come to your rescue.”

  “Mr. MacAllister, have you lost your mind?”

  “Only my heart, fair maiden.”

  His lighthearted reply caused Sarah’s breath to catch in her throat. What would make him say such a thing? Surely he jested.

  “Your presence confounds me, sir. Should you not be at the ball?”

  “May I respectfully remind you, Miss Pemberton, that you did promise me the first waltz of the evening?”

  “And I was very much looking forward to the pleasure of your company; however—” Her fingers nervously toyed with the drapery material, uncertain how much of the humiliating tale she should divulge. “I’m afraid it’s utterly impossible for me to keep my promise,” she said a few seconds later, opting for the full truth. “If I were to be seen in the ballroom, my stepmother would never forgive me.”

  “There’s no need to fear on that account.”

  Baffled by Gideon’s reply, she made haste to point out the obvious. “If I’m not in attendance at the ball, how can we possibly dance with one another?”

  “Who said anything about attending the ball?” Gideon opened his arms as he gestured to the expanse of lawn outside her bedroom window. “This looks as good a dance floor as any.”

  At hearing that, her eyes opened wide. She was utterly flabbergasted. “You cannot seriously be asking me to dance with you on the lawn.”

  “I’ve never been more serious in all my life. Can’t you hear the music, Miss Pemberton?” Gideon cupped one hand to his ear, while the other hand swung in time to the music. “The musicians at Sweet Springs are so accomplished that you may very well think you’ve been spirited off to the ballrooms of Vienna.”

  Torn between reason and desire, Sarah was forced to surrender to the former. Even if she dared to defy her stepmother, she was still a virtual prisoner.

  “My stepmother has secured the door from the outside,” she informed him, shame-faced at the disclosure.

  “Where is your sense of adventure, Miss Pemberton? No one is about, and the window at which you stand is no more than four feet above the ground. It would be easy enough for me to lift you over the sill.”

  Worried that she might be possessed by some form of lunar madness, Sarah said, “I feel compelled to remind you that I only agreed to the one waltz.”

  Gideon’s tall body bent into a sweeping bow. “And you have my word, as a gentleman, that I shall keep to my end of the bargain.”

  About to acquiesce to his proposal, Sarah belatedly realized that, not only was her hair unbound, but she was garbed in her nightdress and chintz wrapper. Moreover, because she would have to dress unattended, she would need at least twenty minutes to change into more suitable attire.

  “Is something the matter, Miss Pemberton?”

  Hopes dashed, she gestured to her wrapper. “As you can plainly see, I am not dressed for the occasion.”

  Gideon’s eyes twinkled with obvious amusement. “Perhaps I should return to my room and don my nightshirt and bed slippers.”

  “Really, Mr. MacAllister!”

  At hearing her indignant retort, Gideon assumed a more serious air as he said, “I admit to knowing little about ladies’ fashions; however you appear modestly clad to my eyes.”

  Indeed, he made a valid point. Her watered silk ball gown—which revealed a fair amount of bosom—did make her high-necked dressing robe seem chastely modest.

  Her mind made up, she decided to embark on the impetuous adventure attired in her night clothes.

  Opening the window as high as it would go, Sarah gingerly maneuvered herself onto the edge of the sill. After assuring her that she had nothing to fear, Gideon placed his hands around her waist and lifted her out of the window. Her wrapper and nightdress billowed behind her as he swung her through the air.

  “You smell of vanilla and summer flowers,” he whispered, his hands still clasped around her waist.

  For a brief moment, their two bodies touched before Gideon took a deferential step backward. With a demure smile, she gave him custody of her right hand as she placed her left one upon his shoulder. A few seconds later, they began to waltz across the soft pelt of grass, their movements illuminated by colorful Chinese lanterns strung in the nearby tree limbs. Even though Sarah knew that she was bound to the earth, it seemed as if she were dancing on a cloud, all of her senses attuned to the magic of the moment.

  “I must confess, Miss Pemberton, that I was taken aback to hear of your impending marriage to Mr. Tolliver,” Gideon remarked, his earlier smile eclipsed by a more sober expression.

  “No more than I,” she informed him, the magical moment instantly shattered.

  “Do you mean to say that the engagement was arranged without your consent?”

  Not wishing to dwell on the fact that she would soon be wed to a man she did not love, she confirmed with a doleful nod. “Alas, the situation is hopeless.”

  “Perhaps your predicament is not as dire as you maintain.”

  “You would not say that if you were the one engaged to Mr. Tolliver.”

  The hand at her waist tightened ever so slightly as Gideon peered deeply i
nto her eyes. “What I would like to say is that you are remarkably different from any other lady of my acquaintance.”

  Unwilling to read too much into his remark, she said, “I suspect that’s because I’m the only one foolish enough to dance in the moonlight garbed in a nightdress.”

  Gideon slowly shook his head, disavowing her of the notion. “What I meant is that you possess a spirited beauty wholly lacking in other women.”

  The comment had a dizzying effect upon her, warm blood instantly rushing to her cheeks. Enthralled, she said, “I will cherish this night forever, Mr. MacAllister.”

  Gideon pulled her closer to him, causing her heart to skip a beat.

  “Since I’ve been pondering the notion of kissing you, perhaps you should call me by my first—”

  “Gideon. Dearest Gideon,” she amended with a warm smile.

  Not missing a single dance step, he inclined his head. Then, ever so gently, Gideon kissed her. And though they continued to waltz across the lawn, their lips danced to a wholly different tune.

  Certain that she’d been waiting her entire life for this one glorious moment, Sarah reveled in the sweet pleasure of Gideon’s kiss. Indeed, it made her wonder if this was the ecstasy which the poets wrote of, the spellbinding tumult that accompanied true love.

  Managing to overcome her shy tendencies, Sarah moved her hand across Gideon’s shoulder. Possessed of a hunger she could not comprehend, her body and, yes, even her soul, yearned for a deeper intimacy.

  To her complete and utter frustration, Gideon broke off the kiss. Coming to a standstill, he said, “I know that you are forsworn to another. And though we have known one another only a brief time, I must confess that I—”

  He was interrupted by a burst of animated laughter that originated in the near vicinity. Hurriedly, Sarah pulled away from him, terrified of being seen. Sensing her distress, Gideon took her by the hand and led her to the open window. Wordlessly, he lifted her to the sill, standing guard while she scurried back into her bed chamber.