“We should stay...” his voice broke, “until they’ve buried her.”
“Find the gravediggers. I’ll stand vigil.”
As he strode away across the darkening landscape, a single rose petal floated downward on the breeze. Cynda caught it between two fingers, remembering Defoe’s boutonniere. This petal had a fragrance. She tucked it away in her pocket, a memento of a love lost to fate.
~??~??~??~
The silence inside the carriage was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Part of it was grief. Part of it was uncertainty. The sure knowledge that things couldn’t remain the same between them.
Unfinished business.
They held hands, a simple bond of flesh against flesh. It was comforting.
When he placed his arm around her, she pulled off her hat and veil, not willing to relinquish the warmth of his shoulder.
His embrace suddenly tightened. “Why did you confront Copeland alone? You should have left when Hopkins didn’t arrive on time.”
She turned toward him. “If you didn’t want me to fight for myself, why did you teach me?”
“I wanted you to be able to defend yourself, not go into battle like some Valkyrie,” he retorted.
She liked that image. “Copeland would have found us, one way or another. I made sure he came to me, on my terms, not his.”
“I should have been there with you,” he insisted.
“You did your hero bit. You saved thousands of lives. Taking down Copeland was my job.”
“It could have gone so wrong, Jacynda. I could have lost you.”
He hugged her tighter, gently brushing back a strand of hair. Touching her cheek as delicately as a faint autumn breeze, he leaned close and kissed her. It was a powerful beginning to whatever lay in their future.
When they broke apart he began whispering to her, so quietly she had to listen closely to hear his words over the sound of the carriage wheels.
“Harter was right,” he admitted. “I would have been jealous of him if it hadn’t been for you.” His voice gained strength. “I was not in favor of Chris and you being together. I thought you too erratic, and I told him so. After you were knifed, it all changed. I was there when you arrived. Though you were dying, you clutched your Gladstone like it held the Crown Jewels. What a silly woman, I thought, worrying about a piece of luggage.
“Then I found my nephew’s ashes in that case, and realized you’d risked your life to bring him home.” He swallowed heavily. “I felt a heartless fool. It made me look inside myself, and I loathed what I found.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“Every trip you took to 1888 became harder for me,” he told her. “By the last time, I almost refused to allow you to leave.”
“I would have gone anyway.”
“I know. I realized that I couldn’t very well spout platitudes about choosing your own path, and then proceed to put myself directly in the middle of it.”
“It was the right decision.”
His fingers caressed her cheek again. “It could have gone so wrong. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing the woman I love. Not a second time.”
He put his arms around her, drawing her close. Part of her wanted to say she needed more time, that she didn’t want to make a mistake. That would be a lie. Her heart had already weighed in on the matter of Theo Morrisey.
As Cynda unlocked the door to the hotel room, he trailed in behind her on silent feet. She could feel his apprehension. It matched hers. He set aside his top hat and jacket, regarding her with those dark eyes. Waiting. The moment her hat, veil and mantelet were set aside, she turned toward him.
“Theo…” He wrapped his hands around her waist, drawing her close against him. A kiss on her ear. She shivered at his warm touch. It stirred a greater need. The next kiss was on her lips. She savored it like a fine wine.
A second later, his control broke. Her back was against the wall in a heartbeat, kisses flaming across her mouth, cheeks and neck. She met his desire with hers, hands running under his waistcoat to pull him closer. Nervous fingers worked her bodice buttons, and one by one they opened. His hands glided across her breasts. She reveled in the sensation, spiraling into the stark passion that began to claim her.
“No,” he muttered and abruptly stepped back, a flush of color on his cheeks. He took a deep breath. “Not this way. Not for our first time together.”
He was right. This was more than just easing the ache. She caressed his cheek. “Go warm the bed. I’ll be there soon.”
After another deep kiss, he left her alone.
Lighting a gas lamp, Cynda selected a piece of hotel stationary, dipped the pen in the ink and began to write her resignation. Until tonight, her world was time travel. Now, it had expanded to include the man waiting for her in the other room. She would give him the paper in the morning. He’d be sure to protest, but somehow they’d find their way forward.
She heard the creak of a bedspring. Leaving the paper on the desk, she turned down the oil lamp and entered the bedroom. Theo was already in place, covers pulled to his waist, his chest mottled with nearly healed bruises.
Cynda took her time undressing, knowing he was watching. Seduction came in many forms. First she removed the boots, then the hose, making sure he got a good view of her legs. Then her skirt, petticoats and the bodice. That left the onsie with the lace edging, which was about as feminine as she got. She reached for the ribbon ties to remove it.
“No, leave that for me,” he said. She shook out her hair and moved closer. “You are beautiful, you know,” he confided huskily.
She scoffed, even though she enjoyed hearing it. “You’re biased.”
“I know true beauty when I see it. Adelaide Winston had it. So do you, now, and in the future.”
The compliment warmed her cheeks. She never blushed, but she would for this man.
“What did she say to you?”
He placed a kiss on her forehead, brushing back a stray strand of hair. “That if we trust our hearts, all will be well.”
Sitting on the side of the bed, she remembered the ring. As she went to remove it, he stopped her. “It’s only fitting that you keep it,” he said.
“But—”
“You didn’t see it, did you?”
She shook her head. “See what?”
“You were still wearing it. I think that bodes well for us.”
Cynda could only nod, flooded with new emotions that were hard to comprehend. He slid his hands down her arms, pulling her closer. The kiss was beautiful in its simplicity.
“New beginnings are always scary,” she admitted.
“For both of us.” He had as much to lose as she did. As she crawled under the covers, she noticed his interface was open on the nightstand. “Ah, what’s that for? You have other plans for tonight?” she joked.
“No. The night is ours. The interface will dampen any…sounds we make.”
Like Defoe’s watch had masked their conversation in the dining room.
“Sounds? What did Chris tell you?” she asked, suddenly nervous.
He chuckled, clearly enjoying her embarrassment. “He was always a gentleman when it came to you. I just thought we might embarrass our Victorian neighbors, especially since they believe we’re brother and sister.”
She’d forgotten that little white lie. “We’ll have to sort that out tomorrow.”
His fingers deftly untied the top ribbon on her onesie. “That is tomorrow.” Another ribbon fell to his fingers. “I am only concerned with tonight.” Another ribbon. Then the last one. He gently parted the two halves of the garment. His eyes reflected a hunger, a wonderment that she never thought possible. Curving his hands underneath her breasts, he ran his thumbs across each nipple.
Cynda moaned at the sensation. It had been too long. She’d made love, but never been loved. That was what she craved.
Leaning closer, she whispered, “Make time stand still…for both of us.”