WE RODE HARD, NOT STOPPING UNTIL ADVANCING EVENING forced us to slow. The wagon had been left behind, as of course Patricia could not sit horseback to travel, and even with Marsh and I riding double on Blade we covered dozens of miles, stopping for the night somewhere in north-central Iowa. Marshall and Axton, who were well supplied from the days of planning their “assault” on the convent, determined we would have food enough to get at least to the edge of South Dakota. Or what would become South Dakota in the future; right now it remained a territory.
“If the weather keeps fair we can get back to Howardsville in about two weeks,” Marshall had explained, though he was quick to clarify, “As long as it isn’t too rough on you, angel.”
I assured him it was not. Marshall’s presence, the gift of being restored to each other, overshadowed all else. As long as he was beside me, I felt we could face anything.
He was in the process of building a fire near a small copse of cottonwoods, a lively stream burbling in the background. Ax was down by the creek watering Ranger while I cared for Blade, who had been recovered in Howardsville back in October. I situated Blade’s heavy saddle on a low-hanging branch and rubbed his silvery hide with the bristle brush, murmuring soft endearments, occasionally resting my forehead on his flank; I could not help but think of Miles. Miles, whose soul was right here within Marshall and fulfilling his promise to me, I had no doubt. I looked over my shoulder at my man, crouched beside a bundle of kindling and about to strike a second match, and my heart felt incapable of holding so much emotion, of containing so much love – the strength of it would tear me at the seams.
Marshall felt the heat of my gaze and looked up from where he knelt by the fire, its growing flames flickering in his gray eyes, and then he was advancing without a word, without a sound, drawn to me as an arrow released upon a target. I dropped the brush and he seized me in his arms, claiming my mouth with no restraint, an untamed force that would no longer be denied. His lips opened over mine, tongue stroking and plunging, tasting me from the inside out; I moaned and clutched his shoulders, grinding my hips against him in a fever of need. I was still wearing the long black dress from the convent, stained and dirty and probably beyond repair – but beneath it, I was completely and blessedly naked.
We struggled in a wild whirlwind of motion, bunching the heavy layers of skirt up past my thighs, my fingers flying over the fastenings on Marshall’s pants – the incredible hardness of him in my grasp as I stroked his familiar length, up and down. I dropped to my knees and brought him into my mouth, swirling my tongue, taking him deep, tasting how he had already come a little, as he gasped, low and harsh, and clutched the back of my head. We forgot our proximity to Axton, forgot the fading sun continuing to lend its light to the evening, disregarded Blade and the humming mosquitoes and the chill air. I stood, breathless and aching for him, and Marshall groaned as he cupped my bare flesh at long last, kissing me so forcefully my head bowed backward. He clamped a firm hold on my hips, my legs threading his waist as he backed me roughly against the trunk of a nearby cottonwood and slid fully home.
“Ruthann,” he gasped, as I quivered violently and came all over him with his first thrust. I muffled my moaning cries against the hard curve of his shoulder, clamping my teeth, holding fast with arms and legs as he pounded into me, just exactly as I needed.
“Yes,” I begged, rocking against him. The outside world ceased to exist. There was only Marshall, the onrushing force of him overtaking my senses as he plundered my body and sated our souls. “Oh God, Marshall, yes…”
“Oh holy Jesus,” he groaned, shuddering as he came in a hot rush, suckling my lower lip and gripping my hips hard enough to leave fingerprints. I kept my legs clenched about his hips, possessive, ravenous for more, breathing as though I’d just sprinted two miles; I peppered his neck and chin with wet little kisses, holding his jaws with both hands. I knew – I really did – that we had to restrain this need; Axton would return with Ranger in tow at any second, but I could not make myself stop.
“You feel so goddamn good,” Marsh whispered hoarsely, as our bodies stayed joined and he stayed hard. His eyes blazed gray fire.
Reality inserted itself in the steady sound of approaching footsteps and I became slowly aware of our surroundings, smelling campfire smoke and the tang of green leaves; the whisper of flowing water reached my ears. I blinked and threw my arms around Marshall’s neck, hugging him with all my strength; he exhaled against my temple, kissing my ear and whispering, “Thank you, angel. I needed that so much. Oh God, my knees are shaky now.”
“Same here. In case you couldn’t tell.”
As we whispered, Marsh lowered me back to the earth, simultaneously helping to resituate my tumbled skirts and hauling his pants into place. Once we were safely clothed he grinned, so handsome, his eyes full of love as he smoothed tangled curls from my hot, perspiring face. He kissed me flush on the lips just as Axton appeared from down by the creek, leading Ranger. Ax was pale and drawn, his eyes grim even as he attempted a smile for us; probably it was obvious what we’d just been doing – the air surrounding us was almost visibly steaming – but Ax made no comment and simply tethered Ranger near Blade.
Marshall caught my hand and led me to the fire; beneath the heavy skirt my bare thighs were slippery with the aftermath of lovemaking but my concern was at once directed at Axton, who was hurting way down deep in his bones. He’d risked himself to save Patricia and me in an act of utter selflessness; he loved me and was in love with Patricia, and yet neither of us could give him the love he desired in return. He’d saved us because he was a good and decent man, because it was the right thing to do, only to turn us over to other men. Axton sat to my left, wordless, bracing his forearms over his bent knees.
And then he closed his eyes and, without drama, lowered his head.
“Ax,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, wrapping an arm across his wide shoulders. “Oh, Axton…”
“Don’t. Please don’t tell me it’s all right. I can’t…bear it.” He spoke as though a fist gripped his Adam’s apple. His shoulders heaved and I looked up at Marsh, telling him with my eyes I needed his help; Marshall’s shirt was askew, his dark hair disheveled from my questing fingers, and a large, cherry-red hickey adorned the side of his neck to match the raspy stubble-burns his scruff had left on mine. His brows crooked in concern as he looked from me to Axton and I sensed his desire to say something, anything at all, to help ease Axton’s despair. But Marsh knew as well as me there was nothing to say. Instead of speaking, he crouched on Axton’s other side and added the comfort of his touch along with mine. He gripped the younger man’s shoulder and squeezed.
Axton covered his face with both hands.
“I am so sorry,” I whispered, rubbing a gentle circle on his spine, mid-back. I knew it would do less than no good to say stupid things like, You’ll get over this. You’ll find a woman you love just as much.
His words emerged low-pitched with grief, punctuated by harsh breaths. “My heart is torn up, Ruthie, oh Jesus, it hurts so much, and now she’s gone again and I don’t know if she’s safe…”
Over Axton’s bent head, Marshall’s pained gaze held mine.
Why does love have to be so punishing? I wondered, understanding that Marshall could very well be in Axton’s place; if life had conspired to keep us separated, the gouging anguish would be exactly the same, for both of us.
“Cole will keep her safe,” I whispered against my better judgment, not sure if it was the right time to remind him. But I had to say something.
Axton lifted his face and his expression cut at me. He gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring. “I know. And I know she…has to be with him. And I know I am a goddamn fool but I can’t stop loving her. How can I live the rest of my life without her? How, Ruthie? It isn’t possible.” His beautiful green eyes were steeped in dark certainty. “Since I met her in Howardsville that morning I knew I was hers, and that she was for me. It’s the strongest thing I’ve ever felt. How can it be wrong?”
“Loving someone is never wrong,” Marsh said, and his tone was gentle.
“Isn’t it? What if you’d found Ruthie only to discover she’d already married Miles Rawley?” Axton suddenly demanded, catching me off guard as swiftly as a white-knuckled fist to the gut. Ashes seemed to coat my tongue as I observed this question strike similarly at Marshall’s composure.
Marshall said with quiet certainty, “Then my heart would have turned to dust, Axton.” Though he directed his words at Ax, I knew he was really speaking to me. “Even knowing what I do about Miles, even understanding how he felt about Ruthann, I would have been finished, for good. There wouldn’t be a place I could ride, no place on this earth far enough to outrun that kind of heartbreak.”
Axton whispered, “Then you understand.” There was a beat of complete silence before he stood. “I’ll be back before morning.”
“Where are you going?” I cried, stricken by his unexpected mention of Miles but unwilling to let him do something desperate.
“I aim to ride a spell, that’s all,” Ax said, his tone softening. “Don’t worry, Ruthie. I don’t want you to worry, not over me.”
I stood and hugged him. “I love you, you know I do. And you saved us. I will never forget that. There is someone out there for you, I swear to you, Ax.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, even though I knew he was unwilling to accept that last bit. He gently set me aside, unwinding the lead line and gracefully climbing atop Ranger, who he had not yet unsaddled. He angled his horse northward and heeled Ranger into a trot.
I turned to Marshall to find his speculative gaze following after Axton, man and horse rapidly erased by the dusk. Marsh said, “I swear he reminds me so much of –”
“Case,” I said at once, and Marshall nodded affirmation.
“But if Cole is Case, then who…” Marsh cocked his head, still in a crouch beside the fire, forearms braced on his thighs.
“I would have come to you,” I said then, the fire dancing over my face as I spoke. Axton was out of sight. I began unbuttoning the front of my dress, with controlled urgency, holding Marshall’s somber gaze. “I would have come to you, no matter what. You know this.”
Marshall slowly stood to his full height. I slipped my arms from the long sleeves, one at a time, heart throbbing. His strong hands encircled my waist, bringing me against his body.
“I know,” he whispered. “I’ve never known anything more.”
Much later, wrapped around each other in the shelter of two heavy blankets positioned near the scarlet glow of the embers, he murmured, “I miss the strangest things. Like Twinkies. You know I don’t even like the stupid things and yet I find myself craving one.”
“Chili fries,” I said, and giggled as he groaned. “Like your Aunt Julie made at The Spoke.”
“Hell yes, and what about Chinese takeout…”
“Mmm. Egg rolls, fried shrimp….oh God, chocolate-covered peanuts…”
“You do love those. You had them in our coffee canister, instead of coffee.”
“Pizza,” I said, giggling more, my cheek against his chest in this languid moment between bouts of lovemaking. “Maybe we could try to make one. Has pizza been invented yet?”
Marshall laughed, burying the sound against the top of my head; I could almost pretend we were in our old queen-sized bed in our little apartment in Jalesville, once upon a long time ago, over a century into the future. He whispered, “Imagine the sound when you pop the top on a beer can.”
“What about a toilet flushing?”
“Or a radio.”
“Car engines.”
“My hands sometimes twitch to feel a steering wheel when I’m riding a horse.”
“Mine too, that’s funny.”
“I’ve dreamed I’m playing my drums, a couple of times.”
“Oh, honey…”
“It’s funny the stuff you practically forget you knew.”
“Remember when we had sex in your dad’s basement while you were playing your old drum set?”
“Of course. You didn’t think I’d forget that, did you?”
“The cymbals kept pinging.”
“You kept pinging,” Marshall teased, and we scuffled, the blanket on top of us sliding free and exposing my bare legs to the chilly air. He was quick to tuck it back around us, tenderly kissing my neck, using one hand to latch my right leg more securely around his hip. “Stay in here, angel, it’s cold out there.”
“Only because you make me ping so hard,” I said as he shifted our positions, tucking me underneath him. Enfolded in his delicious heat, I snuggled closer.
“Nothing brings me more pleasure,” he murmured, licking a teasing, ticklish path upward between my breasts. I could smell my scent all over him, just as his inundated my skin and hair and tongue. We’d sweat and come all over each other so many times in the past few hours, as the stars rotated above us, that I’d lost count. We hadn’t slept, too preoccupied with one another.
“Are you hungry?” I worried, hearing his stomach growl, pressing my palm there.
The teasing expression on his face dissipated. “Yes, but the sight of your face is all the sustenance I need.” He used his index finger to outline my lips, then traced a soft path down my neck and a gentle circle around each nipple, at last resting his palm over my heartbeat. His voice was a husky murmur. “And this. Feeling you beside me, the warm softness of you, seeing the love in your eyes. I don’t know how I’ve gone on day to day without that.”
Our bare limbs were intertwined; Marshall had come in me probably a dozen times already. The flesh between my legs was decidedly tender but still I craved the feeling of him inside me again, where I could hold him as close as humanly possible and know for those moments we could not be forced apart.
“I’ve thought so many times about the first night I ever touched you,” he whispered, curling his fingers through mine and bringing my knuckles to his lips. “August eleventh, 2013, the most incredible night of my life, to that point. I will never forget the perfect beauty of that, when you let me touch you for the first time. Ruthie, I have thought of nothing but you, for so long…”
“I shouldn’t have left,” I whispered, and tears blurred my vision. It struck me that I hadn’t apologized for the winter afternoon I’d fled our apartment. I cupped his face with my free hand and finally said, “I know I hurt you in so many ways and I am so sorry. I know you were just worried about me.”
His eyes were wet with tears as he studied me. “I would lie awake and think of what I would say to you if I had the power to rewind time. How I would beg your forgiveness. What I would feel to have you back in my arms. I was so jealous, and so stupid. I let my anger get the best of me…can you forgive me?” His throat was raw with emotion.
“Marshall Augustus,” I whispered. I traced my thumb over his cheekbone, caressing the contours of his face as I had always done. “I forgave you a long time ago. We’re together again and it’s all that matters.”
He held me close to his heart.
I confessed, “I’m scared to sleep, for fear when I wake up this will have been nothing more than a dream. I’ve dreamed of you so many times.”
He brought his forehead to mine, our eyes an inch apart. “I will never let you go again. Not ever. This I vow.”
My thighs curved again around him. “I was so scared. That was my worst fear, that I wouldn’t see you again.”
He gently tongued my lips, sinking deeper into my body as I moaned and arched upward. He whispered, “I have begged all the powers that be for you to be returned to me, angel, begged all the stars in the sky, prayed every prayer I’ve ever known, day and evening and night…”
I dug my fingers in his hair. “I need you, I need you so much…”
His expression was almost stern with the passionate intensity of what our love created – the strength and joy of what bound us.
“You are mine,” he said intently, between open-mouthed kisses. “You have always been mine, Ruthann.”
“Yes,” I breathed, clinging with arms and legs as he surged fully inside. “Yes. And you are mine…I love you…”
He took me once again beyond any words, to the sweet, hot, sacred place I knew only because of him. The place that rose up and swirled about us, wrapped us in our own private world, let us linger there for long, trembling moments, the place that heard my gasping moans and his husky, throaty cries of release, and where we at last sank together and were allowed a moment’s respite from the outside world. And where our souls clung just as intently as our bodies, at long last reunited.
Axton and Ranger had returned with the morning light. Marsh and I slept for a few hours before dawn, braided together; I woke to the sight of a bleak, cloudy sky, safe and warm against Marshall’s hairy chest. Axton was crouched with his back to us, tending the fire. As I stirred, Marshall opened one eye and whispered, “Morning, darlin’.”
“Morning,” I whispered, kissing his neck, doubly grateful for the heavy blanket, as I was completely naked.
Axton murmured, “Good morning, you two.”
Marshall, also naked, was experiencing what we’d always called the ‘alarm cock,’ stiff as a tree trunk beneath the shelter of the blanket. His lips curved with a half-grin and he smoothed a warm hand over my ass, squeezing lightly, acknowledging what he wanted us to do but what we most assuredly could not, at least just now. His scruff was at the point it was nearly a beard, a sexy, menacing, pirate-type beard.
“We forgot to put our clothes back on,” Marsh groaned. “Axton, I hope you aren’t easily offended.”
“I ain’t,” Axton said, still facing away, and to my relief I detected the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more privacy.”
“Axton Douglas,” I reprimanded. “You don’t have to be sorry for a thing.” I paused. “What’s your middle name? I just realized I don’t know.”
“It’s Ethan. You told me yours one time. Marie, right?”
“That’s right. Well, Axton Ethan Douglas,” I said formally. “What are you cooking? It smells delicious.”
“I shot a couple of prairie hens.” Ax dared to look over his shoulder. He was exhausted; there were dark smudges beneath his eyes but his familiar face broke into a smile. “I’ve never seen you look as beautiful as you do right now, Ruthie, and it makes me happy.”
There were numerous ways this could have been taken out of context; after all, I lay naked and sleep-tousled in Marshall’s arms no more than a few feet away from Axton as he made this observation. But it was Ax, whose sincerity and ingenuousness could never be doubted; I knew he loved me and was truly glad to see me in a state of happiness. Marshall was also touched, I could tell even without a word. I lay sprawled over his chest beneath the blanket and he tucked loose hair behind my ears with both hands, just as Miles had once done, with the same adept tenderness. Tears splashed down my cheeks as I whispered, “Thank you. Both of you.”
“And I agree, wholeheartedly,” Marsh said, his fingers lingering in my curls, brushing away my tears with his long thumbs.
“We’ve got miles to travel before nightfall,” Axton said, turning back to the iron stakes braced over the fire, rotating the meat. “I thought it might be nice to have a hearty breakfast.”
“You thought right,” I said. There were so many things I wanted to ask – so many things we needed to discover, and so many to fear. But under this pewter sunrise, a sky thick with clouds that appeared to have been shaded by heavy pencil strokes, tucked close to Marshall, I was limp with relief. I was well aware of the dangers all around us. Vole. Aemon Turnbull. And far worse, Fallon Yancy waited somewhere out there, stealthy as a predatory animal, one that stalked its victims to certain death.
But just at this second my mind could hold no other emotions than love and gratitude. And determination. Marshall and I would figure out what was required of us here in the nineteenth century. We would ensure the safety of the Rawley family as best we could – surely that was why we’d been drawn to this time, to ensure their lineage continued onward. And even if Marshall and I couldn’t physically return to the future, I was still determined to get a message to my family and the Rawleys, a message they could find in the twenty-first century – they had to be made aware of Fallon. We had to find a way to reach them, even if we remained here.
The way back, I thought, holding the promise of these words in my mind. If return is possible, if there is a way back, we’ll find it.