Chapter 10

 

Wyn was slicing vegetables when Caleb walked into the kitchen. Arianna had dropped him off after her students were all picked up. He’d enjoyed her company despite the memories the battlefield resurrected–the roar of Confederate cannon, his men anxious and primed for a fight; the pain-contorted face of Stan Hipplewhite as the boy died in his arms.

“How’d it go?” Wyn asked over his shoulder. “You get a ride from Arianna?”

Caleb nodded, strolling closer to see what his nephew was doing. Finding a pile of freshly diced carrots, he grabbed a handful.

“Hey! They’re for dinner.”

Caleb crossed to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of spring water. “Are you cooking?”

“Don’t I always?”

Caleb took a long swallow of water before replying. “What happened to your dinner service?”

“I gave them the night off. I can handle a simple stir-fry, you know.” He paused to take a sip of red wine from a glass at his elbow before letting his eyes stray back to Caleb. “Everything go okay? No problems at the monument?”

Caleb eased into a chair at the breakfast table. “She didn’t see my name, if that’s what you mean.” He’d managed to get through the whole day without a headache, but a faint twinge spread at the base of his neck. His muscles tightened across his back as tension leeched beneath his skin. Dropping his eyes, he picked at the label on the clear bottle in his hand. Plastic. Yet another reminder of how far he was from home.

“What do you think of Arianna, Winston?”

He’d lived with his nephew for three years, but rarely conversed with him as a friend. They talked and argued, even bantered occasionally, but Caleb kept a deliberate line between them. He’d spent too many years distancing himself from his troops, befitting his rank, his circle of friends limited. And then there was Seth, whose betrayal had destroyed his belief in friendship, making him reluctant to open up to anyone, Wyn included.

“You’re not getting attached to her, are you?” Wyn shuffled the carrots aside and pulled a head of broccoli onto his cutting board.

“I don’t know.” It was as close as Caleb would come to admitting his feelings. The more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to spend. Remaining casual when she was nearby grew more difficult. He’d spent three years in the present, but still wasn’t accustomed to the sight of a woman in shorts. He wasn’t even comfortable enough to wear the ridiculous half-pants himself. When she’d shown up in the parking lot, dressed in so little clothing, it was all he could do to keep his eyes off her. The skimpy shorts and snug tank top were practically obscene. Not that he minded. He just didn’t want every other man lusting after her the way he did.

“I met one of Arianna’s friends today,” Wyn announced, still working at the broccoli. Caleb watched as he fed the fatter part of the stalk into something he called a garbage disposal. “Her name’s Lauren Talbot. I ran into her at a cafe and happened to overhear her mention Arianna’s name to an acquaintance.”

“Lauren?” Caleb sat straighter. “The Lauren she mentioned the other evening?”

Wyn nodded. “They grew up together, best of friends. Like you and Seth.”

“Not like me and Seth. I ruined Seth’s life and now he’s ruined mine.”

“You did not ruin that bastard’s life,” Wyn snapped. The knife came down on the board with a loud thwack, sending pieces of broccoli flying in all directions. With a perturbed sigh, Wyn turned his attention from the vegetables, angling his hip against the counter to face Caleb. “What happened to Seth was a result of war. He was injured in battle.”

“It was my decision to put him in charge of that scouting party.” Caleb fingered the gash on his neck, a grisly reminder of Crinkeshaw. “It wasn’t his place. He was an officer.”

“Already bitter because you outranked him by a grade. Your sergeant was sick with dysentery, one step from death’s door, your corporal felled by a leg wound at Bull Run. Who else were you going to send? You were a major at the time, Caleb, the highest-ranking officer in your troop. I might not know about warfare, but even I know the ranking officer is too valuable for scouting duty.”

“We’re getting off the subject.” Caleb preferred not to dwell on the past. “I was talking about Arianna.”

Wyn joined him at the table. “I know you’re attracted to her, but aside from the fact you turn into a werewolf every twenty-nine days…” He grinned to ease the sting of the observation. “You don’t belong here. What happens when you find your way back to your own time? I know it’s been three years, but it’s not fair to involve Arianna in a relationship without a future.”

Caleb looked away. Wyn was right, but that didn’t miraculously erase his longing for the dark-haired schoolteacher. “Maybe I just need to find a tavern and a woman who wants to sleep with me,” he mumbled. “Get these damn sexual urges out of my head. It probably has nothing to do with Arianna.”

Wyn studied him evenly. “So when are you seeing her again?”

Caleb frowned. After three years, his nephew knew him well. “Wednesday night. I’m helping her paint her living room.”

* * * *

Arianna snuggled into her couch, pulling the first of several books she’d purchased in Gettysburg onto her lap. Some were by local authors, a few self-published. In addition, she’d bought a large pictorial of the war, but was saving that to pour over when she had more time.

After dropping Caleb at Weathering Rock, she’d returned home and thrown together a quick dinner of pasta with a garden salad. She was thankful Caleb hadn’t invited her out or suggested they continue their evening. She’d enjoyed the day with him, but wanted time to collect her thoughts.

She was falling fast, and that upset her. Already, she’d arranged to see him again, promising to feed him if he’d help tackle her living room with the paint she’d purchased two weeks ago. She’d told herself it was no big deal, a casual get-together between friends. So what if she spent a few hours with an attractive man who knew how to push all of her buttons? It was a paint party, nothing more.

She flopped back against the couch. Who was she kidding? It was a date, and she looked forward to it like a kid at Christmas. Every time she tried to tell herself her interest in Caleb was platonic, physical magnetism intervened. When it came down to it, the man turned her insides to jelly. If he kissed her again the way he had the other night, she doubted she could resist. Not that she was entirely sure she wanted to.

The ringing phone jarred her from her thoughts.

She snatched up the handset. “Hello?”

Lauren clucked across the line. “Okay, what am I interrupting? You sound breathless, Ari. I want details.”

“What?” She gave a shaky laugh. “I was reading.”

She could almost see her friend’s sly look of disbelief. “Something good, I hope.”

“That depends. How does Famous Battles of the Civil War sound?”

“Incredibly boring. I should have known you couldn’t go to Gettysburg without picking up a few books. How’d it go today? I hope the blond god behaved himself in front of the kiddies.”

“He was a perfect gentleman.” Poise back in place, Arianna grinned. “But I did catch him ogling my legs. You’d have thought the man never saw a woman in shorts.”

“Did you ogle back?”

“Only when he wasn’t looking.”

“Was he wearing shorts?”

“No, jeans. But trust me–they were worth ogling.” She blushed as she said it, remembering how well the faded denim had complimented Caleb’s narrow waist, long muscular legs and firm backside.

Lauren laughed in delight. “You’re thinking about his butt, aren’t you?”

“Lauren!”

“Don’t try that Polly Purebread routine on me. I know you too well, Arianna Jane Hart, and you were thinking about his butt.” Her voice lowered, growing crafty. “So, tell me, how does it rate on a Richter scale of one to ten?”

Arianna accepted defeat. “Fifteen.”

“God, you’re smitten.”

“I am not.”

“With a capital S, girlfriend, but I’ll join you. Guess who I met today?”

“Who?” Lauren hooking up with a guy was news. Her friend hadn’t seriously dated anyone since her marriage with Rick dissolved.

“Oh, just a certain dark-haired doctor who lives on Blackberry Lane.”

Arianna bolted upright. “You met Wyn?”

“Tire-slasher extraordinaire. For a thug, he’s charming.”

Arianna’s mind was reeling. “Where did you meet him?”

“The cafe next to my shop.”

Lauren proceeded to relay how she and one of her employees had gone next door for a cup of coffee. Wyn had overhead her mention Arianna’s name and had taken the opportunity to introduce himself.

“We ended up chatting for over an hour after Cathy left. I think we should invite Wyn and your blond Adonis to my costume party.”

The thought had already crossed Arianna’s mind.

“I don’t know. Let me think about it. Caleb and I are just friends, and I don’t want to send the wrong signal.”

Lauren pshawed the whole objection into the phone. “Rick’s going to show up with some twenty-year-old airhead clinging to his arm. I’d love to upstage him and parade around with a gorgeous doctor on mine.”

Arianna grinned. “So you think Wyn is gorgeous?”

She sensed her friend smiling wickedly. “I think he’s hot enough to look handsome in a bunny suit. Maybe I can talk him into coming to the party dressed as a pirate. Tight pants, gaping shirt. Fawn all over me and tick off Rick.”

Arianna giggled, mentally picturing Wyn as a dashing swashbuckler in skintight black pants and a billowing white shirt gaping to his navel. She tried the image out on Caleb and felt her pulse rocket into the stratosphere.

“Ari? Are you listening?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She flushed. Maybe inviting Caleb to the costume party wasn’t such a bad idea. “Why do you care about Rick anyway? You’re just friends.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t score points.” Lauren’s grin came through in her voice. “The man’s always absorbed in something. If it isn’t a woman, it’s a development project. I swear everything he touches turns to gold. The Sagehill Business Journal ran a front-page article on him a few days ago and he’s all puffed up about it. Just once I’d like to upstage him. Which is why I plan to show up with Wyn DeCardian on my arm. And I think you should bring Caleb. I’d like to meet him.”

“We’ll see.” It wasn’t agreement exactly, but close enough. Before the week was out, Arianna knew she’d follow through and invite Caleb to the party.

* * * *

Caleb understood painting, but paint was no longer formulated the way it had been in his day. He got a crash course from Wyn before showing up at Arianna’s townhouse Wednesday evening. Wyn dropped him off, and then headed out on a rendezvous of his own. He wouldn’t say who he was meeting, but Caleb suspected his nephew had a date with Lauren Talbot.

Arianna had already taped up all of the edging by the time he arrived so he didn’t have to show his ignorance over something so basic. He made some inane comment about the color she’d picked–a pale celery green–as an excuse to keep his eyes off her legs.

She was dressed in shorts again, navy blue this time with an orange t-shirt. It hung loosely over her waist, leaving only the hem of her shorts visible. It made them seem even skimpier, her long legs gloriously displayed in a pair of low cut sandals with strappy amber tops.

Flip-flops, Wyn called them.

Caleb thought it a nonsensical, foppish name. At the moment, he couldn’t imagine why, seeing how sultry the silly things made her legs look.

“Caleb?”

He jerked, flustered to be caught staring.

“I asked if you’d like some wine.” Arianna smiled.

He nodded, not trusting his voice. Damn the woman for catching him in the middle of eyeing her legs! He’d told Wyn he was going to forget about her and indulge in a night of mindless sex with someone he picked up in a bar, but hadn’t been able to do either. He thought about her during the day, imagining the scent of her perfume–an exotic tangle of calla lily and lotus flower that made his head reel. He longed to delve his hands into the thick black waterfall of her hair and plunder the inviting bow of her mouth. If he didn’t get release soon, he was going to explode.

“The wine’s over there.” Arianna directed him to a small dry bar in the corner of her dining room. A bottle of Chardonnay was already chilling in a silver ice bucket. “Would you mind opening the bottle? I’d like a glass too.”

He slanted a wary glance at the silver. The next full moon was three weeks away, but the sight of bright metal always made him uneasy. “What are you cooking? It smells good.” He looked for a corkscrew but saw only a bottle opener, one of the ludicrous newfangled contraptions with a fancy designer name on the side. He picked it up doubtfully, noting it looked more suited for a surgical hospital than a bar. The damn thing even had wings!

“Broiled crab and scallops,” Arianna called from the kitchen. “I hope you like seafood.”

“Always have,” he replied vacantly, still scowling down at the gadget. He fiddled with it, turning it this way and that. The screw had to go into the cork, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the blasted wings. Irritated, he swore.

“Problem?” Arianna rounded the corner, toweling off her hands.

He glanced up, feeling for all the world like he didn’t know what he was doing. Which wasn’t far from the truth. Straightening to his full height, he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his dignity. “I don’t suppose you have a standard corkscrew?”

“Afraid not.” Arianna moved to his side, flipped the towel over her shoulder, and took the opener from him. She repositioned it, setting the wings so the screw fit over the cork. “Hold these together and pull back here.” She mimicked the movement, then passed the bottle to him.

He felt like an idiot. He could devise military strategy and position cannon to bring down an enemy line but couldn’t open a simple bottle of Chardonnay. “Damn the French.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” It was relatively easy once he knew what he was doing, though he could sense Arianna’s amusement.

“How about some music?” she asked, retrieving a remote for the stereo.

Caleb winced at the thought of another cursed gadget and the anticipation of drums and screeching guitars blasting through hidden speakers. Wyn had subjected him to what he loosely interpreted as ‘music’ on several occasions. He relaxed when the room was flooded by the soft harmony of flutes and harp.

“Nice.” Caleb passed her a glass of wine, taking a moment to study her home. The living room was in disarray, most of the furniture shoved to the center, covered with drop cloths in preparation of painting. The remainder was a blend of old and new, her dining room finished traditionally with a cherry table, china closet, bar and buffet. From where he stood, he could see the entrance to the family room, the colors bright and airy, maple and cameo-white contrasted by a plethora of plants.

“Your home is nice.” He felt comfortable in the surroundings, despite some modern extras like the vaulted living room ceiling and a gas fireplace. The furnishings were tasteful and traditional enough to place him at ease without being stuffy.

“Thank you.” Arianna nodded toward the family room. “Let’s sit down for a while. Dinner will be another fifteen minutes.”

In his day, a single man didn’t call on an unmarried woman without a chaperone, but he wasn’t a backward boy courting a girl barely out of her teens. They were both consenting adults. It was just growing damnably hard to shut off his desire with her so near.

It would have been easy to use his persuasive powers. A single glance, a touch, a few softly spoken words and he could have her in his arms within seconds, in bed anytime he chose. But he couldn’t exploit her like that. Not when he was beginning to suspect he might be falling in love with her.

He sat on the couch, surprised when she chose to sit next to him, rather than on the adjacent love seat. Bands of evening sun spooled through the patio door, tinting the floor with antique brass and candied peach. He could see a grouping of rattan furniture topped by plump green cushions through the glass. Potted geraniums and bright pink impatiens overflowed into the yard.

“I wanted to thank you again for your help at Gettysburg,” Arianna said. “The kids really enjoyed having you along.”

“I enjoyed it as well.”

She smiled, the white of her teeth intensifying the vivid green of her eyes. “It’s nice we have similar interests like the Civil War.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice. It was becoming difficult to focus, his werewolf-enhanced senses bombarded by a battery of impressions. Bay seasoning on the crab broiling in the oven, the softer under-layers of tinkling chimes in the flute music, the press of cool glass against his fingertips, chilled by the rich flavor of Chardonnay. The subtle fragrance of Arianna’s perfume threatened to consume him. Growing bolder, he set his wine on the coffee table and rested his arm on the couch behind her shoulders. His movement was smooth and unhurried, but every inch of him thrummed with the need to possess her, to taste her mouth and flood himself with her essence.

“I wasn’t sure you would see me again.”

“Why?” Her eyes twinkled, cat-green like a clever feline.

“You were upset with me the last time we had dinner.” He fingered a strand of her hair, delighted when he felt her quiver. The involuntary tremor made his confidence soar. The wolf in him sensed the unintentional release of female pheromones and, without looking, he knew her breasts strained against her t-shirt. He wet his lips, fighting sexual hunger.

“I wasn’t upset.” Arianna set her wineglass down and angled her body toward his, tucking her legs to the side. “I was…surprised.”

“Mmm.” Her hair was like silk. He threaded his fingers deeper, tugging with just enough force to convey his interest. “Why?” He cupped her neck, layering his hand against the suddenly wild pulse-point in her throat. He could tell the touch unnerved her.

“Caleb, don’t.”

He knew he was pushing too hard, too soon. The rational part of his mind cautioned him to back off, but the wolf was restless and hungry. He pulled her into his arms.

“Are you afraid of me, Annie?”

She watched him with wide green eyes. “Afraid?”

There was uncertainty in her voice, but her gaze held desire. Lightly, he dusted his fingertips across her throat, stroking her neck. “Afraid of what I make you feel.”

She tried to laugh, the sound a pathetic squeak. “Wh-why would I be afraid?”

He nuzzled closer, his lips flirting with her earlobe. He took his time, warming the delicate shell with his breath, flicking his tongue into the dainty cavity until she tensed, sucking in a shivery gasp.

“You’re afraid because you want me.”

She tasted of honey and cream, of sun-soaked summer fields and wind-streaked skies. He thought about peeling off her clothes, molding her naked body to his until he filled every inch of her, mutual passion driving them to shuddering release. Emboldened, he kissed her neck.

Arianna tensed. “No. Caleb…” She pushed on his shoulders.

“Why?” The pulse of sexually-charged blood thundered in his ears, his jeans swollen by the telltale bulge of male arousal. “You want me, Annie. I know you do. I’ve seen you look at me.” Unwilling to abandon his slow seduction, he continued to explore her neck with open-mouthed kisses. He pressed against her thigh, willing her to feel every inch of his arousal.

Arianna gasped, her breath quickening. “Stop.”

He was practically panting now. “Why?” Damn, was there some kind of blasted ritual? Even in the twenty-first century, a woman didn’t want to be bedded on her couch like a common harlot. He was out of his head, driven by lust for even considering it, corrupted by the perversion of lycanthropy. “Arianna, I–” Confused, he withdrew slightly. “I didn’t mean–”

She held a finger to his lips. “I’m attracted to you, Caleb. It’s just too fast. I barely know you.”

She was right, and he was dirt. Filth of the lowest order, aroused to the point of practically forcing himself on her.

“I…” The words stuck in his throat, self-loathing replacing passion. His sense of chivalry had gone out the window, overpowered by the predatory half of his soul. It knew nothing of love and tenderness or courtship and romance. The woman probably thought him a heathen, interested only in tumbling her into bed.

“I do all the wrong things when I’m around you.”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t say that exactly.”

His fingers were still embedded in her hair. She relaxed, settling into his arms. “I like it when you kiss me.”

“Do you?” Something razor sharp speared into his groin. The woman was insane, unaware she played with fire. Experimentally, he cupped her chin, dragging his thumb across her mouth. Her lips parted, trembling at his touch, seductively inviting.

“Like this?” He kissed her lightly.

The wolf growled, angry at being restrained, but Caleb was lost in the moment. The barely-there contact of his lips against hers was as sexually stimulating as the raw heat of his earlier passion.

Arianna gave a soft whimper and melted against him. She twined her hands behind his neck, urging him to deepen the kiss.

Would it be so unforgivable to use his influence when she clearly wanted him? He slid his hand onto her thigh, the contact of bare flesh against his fingertips like an electric shock. Shaken by the depth of his longing, he groaned.

“I can’t do this.” He broke off the kiss, his breath whistling hard between his teeth. “I can’t kiss you and not want you.” He was surprised to realize she trembled, desire bright in her eyes. The slightest shove and her reservations would crumble. All he had to do was unleash the wolf.

Take. Possess. Control.

She raised a hand, tracing the outline of his mouth. “I want you too, but I don’t want to rush. I want it to be right, Caleb.”

Right.

There would never be anything “right” between them. He was from a different century, his existence cursed by the ugly blight of lycanthropy. He had no business entertaining the idea of a relationship with Arianna. A doomed man had no cause contemplating love, however fleeting and unattainable.

“Maybe we should talk for a while.” He drew back, enforcing a safe distance between them. His arm was still hooked loosely around her shoulders, but he no longer felt the heated closeness they’d shared, and groped for something to say. “Did you know Winston has met your friend, Lauren? I believe they had a date tonight.”

He willed the hot thump of his blood to a controlled simmer, severing his connection to the wolf. Her scent was intoxicating, her eyes luminous green pools brightened by a lingering trace of desire.

Caleb swallowed hard.

Before the night was over, he feared he would do something he was certain to regret.