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Kane and Elizabeth flew out of the portal, and tumbled across thick grass.
Elizabeth thanked whoever was watching over them for the soft landing—then let out a shriek as she toppled off a steep bank and landed face first in icy water.
The first thing she heard when she pushed up, choking and soaked to the skin, was Kane’s laughter.
“Stand closer and laugh at me. I dare you.”
“Forgive me, love.” Still chuckling, he crouched on the bank and rolled up his right sleeve. “Give me your hand, now.”
She was more than a little tempted to pull him in with her, but she decided she would rather have his warm, dry body to hold on to than a second of revenge.
She pushed dripping hair out of her face, swam over to him, and gripped his wrist with both hands. He pulled her out in one easy move, then kept pulling, until she was plastered against his chest.
“Kane—I’m getting you wet—”
“That is what dry clothes are for, love. Now lift your head, so I can kiss you.”
He cut off her surprised laugh with his lips, his right arm hauling her off her feet. His body warmed her. His kiss had her dizzy, and hot, and wanting him. Probably what he intended.
He broke off the kiss, his lips leaving a trail of heat as they made their way down her throat.
“Kane—” She gasped out his name, let her head fall back to give him easier access. He hummed against her skin, and she wanted to wrap her legs around him and have her way with him. Now. “Kane... oh, there, right there.”
He nibbled at her throat, worked his way back up, his lips brushing her ear. “Remember where we left off.”
“Okay.”
With the low growl she only heard when he was making love with her, he kissed her again, then lowered her until her feet touched grass. She held on to him, even more aroused, and waited for her head to stop spinning. His right hand spread over her ribs, his fingertips brushing the side of her breast. Elizabeth let out a shaky breath, the casual caress so intimate.
“All right, love?” He may have sounded normal, but the fingers caressing her trembled, and his breathing was uneven.
She lifted her head, met his eyes, and forgot that she was wet, cold, and in a public place. The heat in his gaze scorched her.
“Kane—”
“Once we get you dry, Beth, I am going to find the nearest room and—” A loud beeping cut him off. “Bloody hell—the transport. You are a distraction, love.”
He raised his left arm, and she held her breath. The burst of hope faded when he stared at it, not saying a word.
“Kane?”
He turned his wrist, so the transport faced her. Because it was one of her good sight days, she was able to focus easily. A date marched across the screen—and it wasn’t the date he punched in.
“London, 14 October, 1874.” Kane met her eyes. “Welcome to the Victorian Age, Beth.”
~***~
