2011 Christmas Collection: Sensual to Spicy
Stories to satisfy your romantic cravings
Cheryl Pierson, Kit Prate, Sarah J. McNeal,
Christine E. Schulze, and Stephanie Burkhart
Smashwords Edition
2011 Christmas Collection: Sensual to Spicy
Presented by Victory Tales Press
Digital ISBN 978-1-4659-3463-5
Copyright © 2011 Victory Tales Press
Cover Art Copyright © 2011 Laura Shinn
Produced by Rebecca J. Vickery
Design Consultation by Laura Shinn
Smashwords Licensing Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with other people, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this ebook without purchasing it and it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.
This anthology is a work of fiction.
Though actual locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the various authors included except where historical facts are interwoven. Similarities of characters or names used within to any person past, present, or future are coincidental.
Dedication
To the child in all of us who delights in the joys of Christmas and to those who give of themselves so others may find a meal or a gift upon an otherwise bare table.
May the holidays bring each author, reader, follower, and friend your fondest wishes and blessings abundant.
2011 Christmas Collection: Sensual/Spicy
Stories Include:
Meant to Be – Cheryl Pierson
The Homecoming – Kit Prate
Gifts from the Afterlife – Sarah J. McNeal
For He So Loved – Christine E. Schulze
Feast of Candles – Stephanie Burkhart
Meant to Be by Cheryl Pierson
Robin Mallory is facing another Christmas all alone when she decides to surprise her aunt and uncle several hours away. She becomes stranded near a desolate section of interstate. With a snowstorm on the way, Robin has no choice but to walk, looking for a house to provide shelter.
Jake Devlin is shocked when the "spy" he jumps turns out to be a girl. She's dressed oddly, and talks like a Yank. Where did she come from, and what is he going to do with her?
The Homecoming by Kit Prate
Rory Saunders has experienced a crushing divorce. After sixteen years of marriage, her life is in disarray.
She knew she was running away when she left the city behind her; running to what she hopes will be a new beginning. Moving to a new house, a place in the country, she seeks to recapture the happiness of her childhood, and perhaps some of her childhood dreams.
The last thing she wants or expects is another broken heart. She is through with that part of her life; through with secrets, disappointment, and painful deception.
Then Devlin Culhane strolls into her life. He reminds her of the handsome loners who decorate the covers of the western romances she reads for pleasure; tall, tanned and blond, ever the hero.
But even a hero can have secrets…
Gifts from the Afterlife by Sarah J. McNeal
Lydia Sinclair's life has run off the rails. She has lost everyone she loves and Christmas has lost its meaning. As Christmas approaches, Lydia wants to go to sleep and never wake up again. Perhaps an angel, some ghosts, and a childhood sweetheart can convince her that life is worth living again.
Can Lydia let go of what once was, renew her joy in Christmas, and find the promise of hope for her future?
For He So Loved by Christine E. Schulze
On Christmas Eve, she gave him her most precious gift. Though he would not know this for some time, her gift was as when God Himself bestowed His most precious gift upon the world.
What he did know from the start was that she was his angel, and, as would be revealed to him alongside the secret of her gift, his savior. He was as ignorant of this as the world was of Christ's coming; yet, this made it no less real, no less poignant.
No less precious...
Feast of Candles by Stephanie Burkhart
Drake de Brettville is going to take the biggest risk of his life – because of a bottle of wine. When Drake's brother returns to their home in Denmark with a bottle of wine from the Marquand Winery, Drake finds himself compelled to discover who the wine maker is. Intrigued to learn that the owner is a young woman named Lily Marquand, Drake travels to Napa Valley, California, to meet her.
When Drake finds Lily, the sparks fly. Lily is that rare woman who stimulates him like no other, but to win her love, Drake has to shatter the battlements that guard her heart and prove to her Christmas wishes do come true.
Meant to Be
by
Cheryl Pierson
Robin Mallory is facing another Christmas all alone when she decides to surprise her aunt and uncle several hours away. She becomes stranded near a desolate section of interstate. With a snowstorm on the way, Robin has no choice but to walk, looking for a house to provide shelter.
Jake Devlin is shocked when the "spy" he jumps turns out to be a girl. She's dressed oddly, and talks like a Yank. Where did she come from, and what is he going to do with her?
Chapter One
The tire blew with a loud pop just as Robin crossed the bridge. She instinctively tightened her grip on the worn steering wheel, and tried to keep the ancient Ford F-150 from careening into the left lane.
After the first moments of panic, she managed to right the blue pickup and keep it on the road as cars sped past her. The ruined tire thumped rhythmically as she steered the vehicle the last few feet across the interstate bridge and pulled over onto the shoulder.
Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, she let her forehead rest on the steering wheel.
Thank God, she’d somehow avoided a wreck with the black Camry who’d just passed her, blaring the horn at her the entire time. And, she’d managed not to go over the embankment into the Arkansas River, either, she thought caustically. Yet another blessing.
She reached over to snap off the radio, the one thing that still worked perfectly in the rattle-trap pickup.
Lifting her head, she heaved a sigh. She was going to have to move a little farther off the road before she could safely get out and assess the damage. At best, a new tire was in her future. At worst…well, hopefully, the rim wasn’t totally destroyed.
A few yards ahead, a graveled access road ran parallel to the interstate before veering off into the wooded land nearby. She put the truck in gear and slowly limped to the exit ramp on the shoulder, turning onto it, and then onto the graveled road nearby. There were no other cars in sight. No businesses, no houses, no people. Robin opened the door and got out, her breath making vapor in the air.
She walked slowly around the old truck. The passenger side rear tire was shredded. There would be no way to repair it. She was going to have to buy a new one. Dammit. She was miles from home, with no one to call for help. Aunt Martha and Uncle Henry weren’t expecting her. She’d wanted to surprise them. She leaned her back against the side of the truck, shivering as a gust of cold December wind swept down from the north side of the interstate.
Now what? December 23rd and a Saturday—not much hope of finding a garage open. And she’d had to let her road service membership expire a few months ago—when it came to paying the yearly membership fee or the monthly electric bill.
Robin pulled her cell phone out of her jeans’ pocket and flipped it open. Who would she call? Since her parents had passed away, she really had no one left in the world except dear old Aunt Martha and Uncle Henry, and as old as they were, there would be nothing for them to do but worry.
“I can’t stand here all night,” she muttered to herself, closing the cover of the cheap phone. She opened the passenger side door to lock the truck, her most prized possession, then turned toward the gravel road.
The road made a bend to run parallel with the Arkansas River, away from the interstate. She turned in a complete circle, looking to see if there were any tall billboards rising above the underbrush, announcing gas stations or rest stops. There was nothing of the kind—just a mix of trees and shrubs that grew wild, the concrete swath of interstate cutting through the sparse vegetation.
Not so, down the gravel road, Robin noticed. She supposed the trees were thicker that way due to the nearby flow of the river. She’d passed a mileage sign five minutes before the tire had blown. Millerville was fifteen miles south on the interstate. That would be an all-night walk.
Her heart hammered with her first few steps along the deserted gravel roadway. Not as well-traveled as the interstate, she thought, but maybe there’d be a Mom & Pop garage of some sort, or at the very least, someone’s house. The cold front the weatherman had promised was moving in with a vengeance.
Robin put her head down against the wind and tried to walk as quickly as possible. Full darkness would be no more than a couple of hours away. She had to find a house, soon.
And then what? She’d used her last thirty bucks to fill her gas tank. She’d been so desperate to spend Christmas with her only remaining family. Look where desperation has gotten you, Robin. Walking along a lonely stretch of road in the cold…and if everything went like the weatherman said it would, and the snow started around midnight as he predicted, she’d be caught out in the first white Christmas in the past seventeen years.
Great.
At any other time, she might have been excited by the prospect. But not now. Was nothing going to go right? Her breath came in labored gasps. How long have I walked? She turned to look behind her. The road looked oddly altered. She had come far enough that a slight bend obscured her view of the pickup.
The gravel seemed to be sparse, and when she turned to walk forward again, she noticed the road narrowed just ahead of her.
“Oh, come on!” A dead end? She walked on, disheartened, and truly afraid now. Some Christmas this was going to be. There was no sign of civilization. If nothing else, she thought, there should be a car full of teenagers headed for the nearest town of any size. It was Saturday…but maybe it wasn’t late enough yet…
Robin felt the hair prickle at the back of her neck. Was someone watching her?
Oh, Dear Lord. Let me not be imagining things out here on this lonely stretch of road.
A quick, furtive step sounded behind her. As she turned, she was knocked to the ground in the early evening twilight. A male body came atop her, rolling both of them down the gently sloping embankment, away from the road.
She kicked and clawed, but wasted no energy in screaming. He’d knocked her small purse out of her hand. Her pepper spray was in that bag, but it would do her no good, now.
Her assailant was strong. They’d come to a stop at the bottom of the small slope, near the bank of the river. Robin’s right arm was grasped tightly, then her left, as he pulled them upward. The man lay atop her, her hands above her head. That made her angrier than ever, pushing fear to the back of her mind.
He stared down at her in the dimming light, his breathing hard and uneven. His obsidian eyes bored into hers, and dark, shoulder-length hair framed his face
“You—you’re nothing but a girl.” Contempt filled his voice.
Robin glared up at him. “I’m twenty-three years old! I gave up being a ‘girl’ a long time ago.”
His sensual lips curved upward slightly. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. Ladies don’t normally parade around dressed in men’s pants.”
“Oh! You insufferable ass! Get off of me!”
He made no move to comply, but Robin sensed he wouldn’t hurt her. He was just trying to show her who was in control.
A grin spread slowly across his mouth, a soft chuckle finally escaping. “I’ll be damned.”
“You sure will if you don’t get off of me!” She shoved at him, but he held her easily.
He laughed again, his dark eyes taking her measure, leaving her no doubt he was wondering what she planned to do if he didn’t let her up, and half tempted to find out.
“You shouldn’t be out here.” His tongue traced across his lips, hiding straight, white teeth for a brief moment. A gust of wind blew across where they lay, and Robin shivered.
Instinctively, he pulled her to him, as if to offer her the warm shelter of his body. For one brief instant, she let him gather her to him, her face against the protection of his neck.
His scent was all man; woodsy, as if he’d become part of the forest he’d materialized from; clean, as if he’d just bathed; and there was another essence Robin couldn’t put a name to. But if safety and protection had a scent, she was pretty sure this man wore it. She was not afraid of him, though it was obvious he could overpower her, if he wanted to.
“Come on,” he murmured near her ear. “Let’s get you out of this wind. You’re half frozen, and there’s snow coming.”
“So they say,” Robin muttered as he moved off of her, then stretched a strong hand down to help her up. “Weathermen are wrong sometimes.”
He gave her a questioning look. “Weathermen?”
“Yeah, on the news. You know.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“You don’t have television?”
His gaze turned to one of concern. “Our camp’s not far from here. You need to get warm.”
“You’re camping on a night like this?” Robin struggled up the embankment against the mounting wind. Her companion put a hand back to her and she took it, glad for the strength he lent her so easily. She stopped to pick up her purse. The pepper spray reassured her, even though she didn’t think she’d have to use it.
“Don’t have much choice, what with the War and all,” he said caustically. “But don’t worry,” he went on, quick to reassure her, “you’ll be safe there. General Watie has his rules.” His eyes raked her as they reached the gravel road once more. “Even if you are a Yankee.”
“A Yan—I beg your pardon! I am not a Yankee. I was born and raised right here in Oklahoma.”
He turned to look at her. “Indian Territory.” He started across the road into the woods he’d appeared from, and Robin followed, angry at his casual accusation.
Re-enactors? What were they doing out here so close to Christmas?
He sounded so serious. By the way he was dressed and what he had said, the only explanation was that he had to be some sort of Civil War re-enactor. Though he didn’t wear a full gray uniform, there was enough to let her know he “fought” for the South; the gray cavalry jacket being her first clue. The hat he wore had, no doubt, matched the coat at one time, but had seen better days. Probably from too many days—and nights—in the harsh elements. These re-enactors took their hobby seriously.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to trouble you. I—I don’t even know your name.”
“Jake Devlin.”
Robin nodded, putting out a numb hand as he stopped and faced her. Why hadn’t she brought gloves with her? “I’m Robin Mallory.”
He took her hand between his, grimacing at the iciness of her skin. “I’m really not an insufferable ass, Miss Mallory.”
A flash of embarrassment ran through her. His eyes were warm in the growing darkness.
“I—I—”
“Come on,” he said, laughter in his voice. “You’re so cold you’re starting to stutter.”
He led the way through the woods, showing her where to step, guiding her through the trees, until finally she was able to see the faraway orange halo of welcoming firelight in the distance.
“It’s not much farther,” Jake said, seeming to sense her relief.
Her lungs had begun to burn. It was nearly full dark now, even though it was barely evening. She was in the woods with a man she didn’t know, headed for an encampment of strangers. Her truck had a flat that she had no spare for, and she had no money to buy a replacement tire. She tried to look for a silver lining, but really, how could there be one? Normally resilient, right now, Robin couldn’t think of a time when she’d been in a worse place, physically, financially, and emotionally. If she came to a bad end, no one would know—not for months. Maybe years.
“You’re quiet.”
She took a deep breath. “I have to concentrate on walking.” She wondered again how he managed to make it look so effortless, while not even breathing hard. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You can.” She could hear his smile in his words.
He turned to look at her. “I’d never hurt a lady, and you are that, it’s plain to see.” Briskly, he started off again. “You’re doing fine. We’re almost there. General Watie will have some questions for you, Miss Mallory, but don’t be nervous. He’s a fair man.”
“Who plays the part of General Watie?”
“What do you mean—‘plays the part’?”
“In your re-enactors’ group.”
Jake didn’t answer for a moment. His steps slowed, then halted. Robin could see the tantalizing orange glow only minutes from where they stood. Jake turned to her, and she had no trouble reading the worry in his eyes, even in the dim light.
“No one ‘plays a part,’ Robin. General Watie is…himself. I’m not sure what a ‘re-enactor’ is, but everyone you’ll meet is just who they seem to be. We’re not pretenders.”
If she’d felt chilled to the bone before, it was nothing to compare with the cold that penetrated her at Jake’s calm words. She faltered in her breathing, remembering the way the gravel road had seemed to change when she’d looked back for her truck. Little things, like the sudden proximity of the river bank, the total absence of interstate sound, and the authentic look of Jake’s clothing were adding up to a very uncomfortable conclusion.
“Jake, could you tell me—what year this is?”
“Stop playing with me, pretty girl.” He squeezed her hand. “This cold’s affected your head. Or maybe you need to eat. There’ll be stew—”
She clutched his arm as he turned to go. “No. No, I’m not playing, Jake. Please, I need to know. Where are we, and—and what year is this?”
He stared into her face as if trying to determine her intent. When he spoke, the teasing tone had left him, as had the smile. “1864, Robin. Indian Territory. How could you not know that?”
Chapter Two
How, indeed? Robin swallowed hard. Hadn’t she figured it out already? Jake was only confirming what she’d known, deep down, ever since the road beneath her feet had become less gravel and more dirt; ever since she’d looked back and seen a vista she was unfamiliar with, even though she’d just walked there not ten minutes earlier.
“1864? December, 1864?”
“Of course.” He smiled, as if to let her know all would be well as soon as she warmed up and ate. “Christmas is day after tomorrow.”
Well, at least she was still living in the right day, the right month, if not the right moment in time!
“Yes.”
“Come on.” He put an arm around her shoulders as if to comfort her. “I’ll bet you’re hungry. I know I sure as hel—heck am.”
The smell of stew wafted to where they stood as if on cue, and Robin felt her stomach tighten in preparation of an outright growl. She was hungry. With a jolt, she realized she’d been in such a rush to leave that morning she hadn’t taken time to eat anything. Now, the day had almost slipped by her completely.
“I am. And Jake, I’m really grateful.”
This had to be a dream. Although Jake Devlin was only a handsome figment of her imagination, she wanted to be certain she didn’t leave him with a poor impression when she woke up and he went…wherever figments went when the dream ended.
He flashed her another quick smile. “No call for that, Miss Mallory.”
Robin watched as he glanced toward camp. Voices floated to them as they moved forward again. Although he’d gone all formal on her again, Robin liked the way he held her close, steadying her footsteps the last few yards, until they reached the edge of the shadowy woods where the dimmest rings of firelight fell. Then, reluctantly, he released her with a final squeeze of her hand.
“Don’t be nervous. General Watie is stern, but he is fair.”
Robin nodded wordlessly. Right now, if she’d opened her mouth to answer, her teeth would chatter so badly she wouldn’t have been able to form the words. There must be a reason Jake had mentioned General Watie’s ‘fairness’ twice in the short space of time she’d known him. She only hoped it were true.
They stepped into the clearing together, and Jake moved lithely ahead of her.
* * * * *
In the center of the camp, a fire blazed cheerily, two pots of stew bubbling over a smaller fire pit at the outer edge. Several men sat on the ground talking and laughing, some of them already eating while others were gathering their camp gear and heading toward the pots.
All noise stopped as Jake strode toward a man who stood at the far end of the camp. Robin forced her legs to work harder to keep up. Unease descended, falling heavily around her shoulders under the watchful eyes of the men. She kept her head down, her eyes on the ground, only glancing up to see where Jake was so she wouldn’t run into him. She shivered, missing the warmth of his arm thrown casually around her shoulders. The trees blocked the wind to some extent, but she cast a wistful glance at the roaring fire, wanting nothing more than to go and stand beside it to warm herself.
Jake stopped ahead of her, speaking softly to the older man, who looked over Jake’s shoulder and beckoned her forward. His salt-and-pepper hair blew in the wind, his coal black eyes piercing her. She stepped closer to stand beside Jake.
General Watie. She recognized him from pictures she’d seen…in history books. His features were unreadable, as if his face were carved in stone. She knew from her studies he was well-learned, and though he was Cherokee, had been given a far better education than what was available in her own time.
He inclined his head in greeting. “Hello, young lady.”
“General.”
“Come. Warm yourself by the fire.” He began to walk toward the fire, and Robin and Jake fell into step with him. “Lieutenant Devlin tells me you were lost in the woods on this dismal evening.”
“Yes. I—I was on my way to visit my Aunt Martha and Uncle Henry.”
His eyes raked her, from head to toe. “Your horse throw you?”
“I—uh, yes.”
“Are you injured?” His scrutiny intensified until it was almost more than she could bear.
“No. I’m fine, sir.”
He turned to motion toward one of his men, calling to him in Cherokee. “We’ll get some food in you, Miss Mallory,” he said to her. “You’ll be warm in no time.”
“Thank you, General.”
He nodded. “Lieutenant, would you be so kind as to go fetch the extra cup I have in my quarters for the young lady? She’d like some coffee, I’m sure.”
Jake saluted and turned to go, but not before he gave Robin a reassuring look.
The feeling of safety crumbled in the next instant, as the general gave her a look of his own, one that clearly let her know all pretence was over.
“Where do your aunt and uncle live, Miss Mallory?”
“Oh…uh…not—not very far from here. I mean, as the crow flies. It’s just a few miles—”
He smiled, as if at some private joke. “There have been…others…like you. The portal opens and it closes. But it doesn’t remain forever, Miss Mallory. So you have a life-altering decision to make.” His eyes bored into hers. “You either stay…or you go. But my advice, although you haven’t asked, is this: Don’t let time make the decision for you. Make it for yourself, because it’s what you want to do.”
“I—I don’t know anyone here. It was all a mistake. My truck had a flat tire—”
“Listen to me, because time grows short. Follow your heart, Miss Mallory. Make your own choice. I don’t know what or who you left behind in that other world, but if you decide to stay in this one, I’ll see you get to safety. After that…your future is your own.” His gaze held hers, then moved to where Jake would be returning soon from his quarters with the cup.
“How—long do I have? Do you know?”
“Let’s hope you have until midnight, Christmas night. I…can’t let you go anywhere before then.”
Robin drew herself up, his words like a slap in the face. “You can’t—but—why not?”
“For your own safety, Miss Mallory. We’re carrying out a mission here—”
“But—it’s Christmas! No fighting. Truce.”
“I’m afraid the holiday doesn’t preclude troop movement. Now, the subject is closed.”
Just then, Jake stepped out of the General’s tent, stopping by the coffee pot to pour a cup full of the dark liquid. General Watie’s expression was suddenly shuttered, the kindness Robin had seen there earlier, gone. As Jake neared with the cup, the General turned back to her. “This will be a very cold night, Miss Mallory. I’m quite sure you aren’t accustomed to sleeping out in the elements, and you are, of course, not equipped with your own bedroll. I’m putting Lieutenant Devlin in charge of your well-being. Though I know it’s not proper, you will share his bedroll tonight.”
When she started to protest, the General held up a silencing hand. “Pride does you no good if your fingers and toes are taken by frostbite, young lady. In these times, we do what we must to survive. I assure you, Lieutenant Devlin is completely trustworthy. If he were not, I would not give you into his keeping. That is all there is to be said.”
He turned away abruptly and walked toward the coffee pot himself, leaving Robin speechless. Jake was silent a moment, then reached for her hand.
“Here. Take this. It’ll warm your hands up to hold the cup.”
She took it, and delicious warmth flooded through her. Oh, Lord, she hadn’t realized how cold she was. She truly was numb.
“I can’t believe him!” she murmured.
Jake smiled. “He’s a good man, Robin.”
She looked up at him. “And you? Are you a good man?”
It surprised him that she would even ask. Then, a brief flash of anger crossed his features. “You’re safe with me, Robin.”
She wondered just what Jake would think about his precious General if he knew about the conversation that had taken place while he was getting her the coffee. She was very tempted to tell him.
But, she didn’t. It would sound crazy. One thing was for sure. She’d be back at the portal, wherever that was, in a little more than two days’ time. All she had to do was get through the next forty-eight hours. She was definitely going back to her own time, if she didn’t wake up first.
Chapter Three
It felt odd, holding this strange woman in his arms. Jake shifted as she did. But it felt right, somehow, too. Any lady would be…embarrassed. To have to wrap up in a bedroll with a man she’d only met a few hours earlier had to be a harsh blow to her pride. And it didn’t help that he was half-Cherokee, either. A wry smile crossed his face. The only thing worse was his “other half”—the Irish half—that couldn’t be denied with a name like Jake Devlin. She’d managed to hide her prejudice for either half quite well.
As if she’d read his thoughts, she snuggled closer to him, seeking the warmth of his body. His 6’3” frame was already molded around her solidly. She was touching him everywhere she could, seeking the warmth of contact.
Her hands had drifted down between them. Then, as she slept, even lower, until his breath stopped. Now, he held himself as rigid as that part of him her hand laid so innocently, and intimately, across.
When they lay down, he’d positioned their bedroll so Robin would be closest to the fire. He’d almost fallen asleep watching the flames gleaming in the highlight of her long auburn hair.
“Jake?” Her voice had been sleepy and sweet. He’d looked down into her brown eyes, and had been sorely tempted to kiss her full lips. But he had only watched and waited. “I’m sorry. I feel like…somehow I’ve embarrassed you…become a burden. I—I was just lost. Trying to find my way…”
“Shhh.” He smoothed her hair under his palm. “You haven’t embarrassed me at all, Robin. I’m thinking I’m the luckiest man here tonight—the only one with a lovely angel lying with him.” He gave her a teasing smile, but she remained somber. “General Watie put you in my care because I was the one who found you and brought you back to camp. You’d never be a burden.”
Now, as he lay holding her in his arms, he wondered what was going on in her mind. And, he wondered exactly where she had come from. The odd questions, the strange way she was clothed…
But right now, she was his responsibility, and he liked it. He enjoyed the feel of her soft, slight body entangled with his, the trusting way she snuggled into him. He raised a hand to sift his fingers through the silken curtain of her hair.
Long banished feelings began to resurface, along with thoughts he knew he never should indulge, even for a few sweet moments. But he did, anyway. What would he do when this Godforsaken war was over? What if he could live a normal life again, with his own small piece of land and some horses to break and sell? What if he had a woman—like Robin—waiting for him in the evenings? Was it so wrong to want a home, a wife, and eventually, a family?
Dreams were sure to fade. Robin was on her way to her aunt and uncle’s house…out of his life. He may manage to grab a part of his dream for himself, but would he ever have it all?
He looked down at her, sleeping peaceful and warm in his arms. Who would know if he kissed her? Not even a real kiss, just a brush of his lips… he leaned down beneath the edge of the bedroll. No one would ever know of this stolen moment. Not even Robin.
He kissed the top of her head gently, inhaling the scent of her clean hair—lemons, oranges…a smile crossed his lips. God, she smelled so wonderful, felt so heavenly—
In the next instant, she shifted, turning her face upward, meeting his mouth with her own. The moment of sweet surprise passed, to be quickly replaced with shock. He hadn’t ever intended to take advantage of her.
But she sweetly pressed into him, moving upward to connect more solidly with his unintended kiss, and all thought of a chaste passing of his lips across her hair fled. Her mouth opened under the onslaught of his deepening kiss, and his lips moved fully across hers, a soft groan escaping him.
“Robbi, Robbi,” he murmured, his mouth close to hers. “I’m sorry—”
“No, don’t—don’t say you’re sorry.” Her hands moved upward, caressing his back and shoulders, pulling him to her again.
“We can’t do this,” he said, even as his mouth slanted over hers once more. His tongue skimmed her lips and she moaned in soft surrender.
“Jake,” she whispered, as his tongue traced her lower lip, his teeth nibbling at her. But she wasn’t asking him to stop. Still, he lifted his head and looked into her eyes, his whole body throbbing. The sound of her saying his name was more sensual than even the kiss had been.
What would he give to hear her say it just like that every night for the rest of their lives?
Fool. She’s not for you. Not like this. Not in the middle of camp. Not when you’ve been ordered to protect her. Not at all. Not ever.
He pulled away from her, his breathing as hard and uneven as hers. His heart beat wildly, but he was sure it was in rhythm with Robin’s—a pounding no one else could hear, binding them together. And he couldn’t bear the hurt in her eyes.
“Robbi, I don’t want to shame you,” he whispered.
“I—I know. It’s all right.” She patted his arm as he pulled her close to him again. “You’re right.” She bit her lip and he held her away quickly, appalled at the tears that were forming in her eyes.
“Robbi—”
“No, really. It’s—I’m okay. We both just got carried away. It happens.” She attempted a shrug, but Jake wasn’t fooled.
“Talk to me, Robin. Give me some answers.”
Stubbornly, she shook her head. “You’ll think I’ve lost my mind,” she told him softly. “And…maybe I have.”
He moistened his lips. “Did you come through—the portal?”
She looked up at him, the firelight providing enough light for him to clearly read her expression. “I don’t know. That’s what General Watie called it, too. He seemed to think—he said I had to make a decision about staying here or—or going back. The next thing I knew, he said I couldn’t go back—”
“What? Why not?”