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"It is not considered good form for a man to show weakness. I thought you realized that by now." His face grimaced with pain, and her heart melted.

Men. Why did they think they had to be so macho? Without thinking, she said, "Let me get you over to Thomas and he can take a look at you."

Luckily, they were at the edge of the dance floor where the lantern light waned, and no one saw him hesitate. Several emotions crossed his features; possession remained in the wake of the rest. "It is said in some cultures that when a person saves another's life, they are bound together until the debt can be repaid." His husky voice and smoky gaze mesmerized her. "Since I have yet to repay you, Miss Eastman, you are not free to see anyone else. You are not free at all."

Instead of a threat, his words brought her unaccountable joy, yet she didn't feel it the right place to voice her own feelings of love. "And how long do you intend to stay in my debt, Mr. Westbrooke?"

He pulled her tight against him, and she felt the heat of his male essence. Her heart jumped and fire coiled in her very center. The music ended and they stopped dancing. He bowed low over her hand, then raised his gaze to hers.

"For a very, very long time."

* * *

Early the next morning, Nicholas stood at the track railing, a heavy mist doing nothing to dispel the heat still ravishing his body since his conversation with Jaci last evening. He had longed for the crowds of people to vanish and the lanterns to be doused. All he had wanted to do was lay her down in the soft grass and make exquisite love to her. But it hadn't happened, and he had spent the remainder of the evening with an intense ache in his belly.

He knew his remarks about Thomas were uncalled for, but he wanted her to know that she belonged to him. It had nearly done him in to see her speaking with the doctor. As soon as he was completely well...as soon as the debts were paid...

"He's magnificent," she breathed, her words drifting to him as her scent tantalized his senses. She came to his side, holding his hand on top of the cane, her energy seeping into him as it always did to waylay his fears and force him to seek the future.

As though Wind Dancer knew she complimented him, he raced around the track, mane and tail flying, hooves striking the hard packed dirt with a clatter. Nicholas shifted his weight off his weak right leg. He well remembered how it felt with the wind in his face, the horse's muscles bunching beneath his legs.

"You can do it, Nicholas, you can." She read his thoughts. He hadn't ridden since the accident, but now his heart beat as hard and rapidly as the pounding of the horse's hooves. A vision formed of the two of them racing far away from everything threatening. It would be him and her, making love as thunderously wild as his stallion's speed, as enduring as the land over which they raced.

"Come with me?" he asked, taking her hand and leading her to the stable.

It didn't take long to have the horses saddled, and now he raced ahead of her to the top of the hill. For a moment, Jaci paused her smaller horse, taking in the splendor of seeing him ride again, but also the beauty of the land, still so virgin compared to her time.

Dots of darker green interrupted the bright color where rows of cedar covered the hillside. White swirls across the sky collided with brilliant azure blue. She shaded her eyes. Tiny droplets of water shimmered on the leaves of the nearby trees. Everything flowed, bright and new, and the photographer in her longed to capture the moment.

Nicholas sat, laughing at the world around him, hair blowing in the wind. He flung his arms wide. "I never thought I'd ride again; never thought Wind Dancer and I would see this scene. What can I do to repay you for giving this back to me?"

"Love me," she answered softly.

He shook his head, his eyes dancing. "That's not what I meant. What can I give you in compensation?"

Joking, and yet not, Jaci said, "Your heart."

Nicholas swung his leg over the saddle and slid to the ground, long strides eating the distance to her side. As he spoke, he reached up and circled her waist, pulling her from the horse. "My darling Miss Eastman, you already have my heart. You've had it for quite some time."

"Then make love to me, Nicholas."

Without another word, he took her hand and led her up the hill, gently laying her down on the lush grass. With exquisite tenderness, he showed her exactly what love was and how much she meant to him. For all the past times when their passion had ruled their minds and they had raced to the edge and leaped, this time he refused to let her control the pace.

He worshipped every inch of her body with hands and lips and heated gaze reducing her to a trembling mass of nerve endings. Even when he covered her with his body and entered her, it was with a gentleness more erotic than anything she had experienced in his arms before.

"I love you, Jaci, more than life itself. Your softness, your giving, your heart have kept me alive when I would have rather ended it all." His fevered words made her heart soar. "If you will have me for your husband, I will spend the rest of eternity pleasing you," he kissed her ear, "and loving you."

His passionate words sent Jaci spiraling over the edge and Nicholas followed, their climaxes fusing them together even as they burst into pieces. As she drifted back to earth, she cried for all that had been, and for all that could never be. For in that moment, she knew it wouldn't be fair to him if she stayed.

Chapter Nineteen

Cold rain, carried by a gusting wind, splashed across the porch. The drastic change in temperature from the warm afternoon caused Jaci to shiver and pull her coat tighter around her. She hadn't packed all her clothes, taking only what she considered essential for escape. Now she shifted uneasily as she lifted her bag, hesitating to step from the warm, sheltering manor into the wet darkness. The moment she left Wildwood, she knew she would be swallowed up by the night and her life irrevocably changed.

She reached behind her to pull the door closed but it was jerked out of her hand, causing her to stumble backward. To maintain her balance, she dropped her bag and clutched the first solid object within reach--a warm, very hard body.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rough hands grabbed her arms; an even rougher voice shouted at her over the wind.

She let go of Nicholas's shirt front and stepped back. He released her, but remained solidly in the oak doorway, his height blocking most of the light that streamed from the hall. She couldn't make out his features, but his voice held anger, and something not quite definable.

Last night, Nicholas had the servants move his bed back upstairs, and had invited her to share it with him. Like a fool, she had agreed, and it had made leaving all the harder. Now she struggled to get her equilibrium, and to figure a way out of this dilemma. To shift his attention, she questioned him. "It's the middle of the night. Why aren't you still sleeping?"

"Better question--why are you leaving?" He hadn't moved except to cross his arms on his chest, making him all the more formidable. Shadows played across his stern face.

"I'm...ah..." She looked at the bag by her feet. "Who told you?"

"Lady, if there is staff in a household, there are no secrets. Now, I ask you again: Why?" Lightning flashed and thunder shook the boards of the porch where she stood, as though nature, too, took Nicholas's side against her.

The wind picked up, whipping her hair across her face. She brushed it out of her eyes, shouting over the rain. "You don't understand. I have to go. I have no place here." It was breaking her heart to deny the love she had once thought she would never know.

"What do you mean?" he shouted back at her. "Your place is with me." She shook her head and his face fell. Frown lines deepened across his forehead. His shoulders sagged. More softly, he stated, "I thought you were happy here."

"I was...I am. Don't make this harder than it already is." She was crying and she sounded like an old movie. He held out his arms, but she knew she couldn't touch him. If she did, she'd never leave.

"I thought I was frightened when I couldn't walk," he said. "I was helpless, unable to provide for Amanda and my staff. But I didn't know what fear was until I woke up and you were gone."

She sobbed harder. "I can't stay. Don't you see?"

His arms dropped to his sides, hands clinched. "All I see is you running away. What happened to the woman who defied me at every turn; who fought my battles for me and made me fight? Where's the woman who wouldn't give up?"

"It's not the same," she argued, yet not wanting their last moments together to end in a fight.

"Why isn't it the same? Because you're from another century?" He waved a hand in the air as though that were the least of the considerations. "It doesn't matter. There's no difference if you're from 2008 or from Richmond, Virginia--
you're mine.
And regardless of your futuristic logic, I know you want to belong to me; to belong here at Wildwood. So tell me why?"

"Because...because I love you, damn it! And that's not fair to you. I don't know how long I can stay here. What if I disappear without warning?" Her confession was cut short as he grabbed her close. He broke into a glorious smile just before he kissed her, stripping her of all rational thought. His kiss was totally possessive, and yet she detected an underlying current of tenderness that she hadn't felt before.

Gently, he brushed wet tendrils of hair away from her face as he gazed into her eyes. "God, you don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that. I have loved you since before the accident, but I couldn't ask you to love a cripple, a man--" This time, his comments were cut off as she returned his kiss, her tongue tracing the fullness of his lips, memorizing their texture and their taste.

The small brocade satchel remained unattended on the porch as he swept her into his arms and carried her inside. He limped only slightly, but when she requested he put her down, his lips silenced her protests.

He didn't make it back to the bedroom, but instead deposited Jaci on the edge of his desk in the study. She began to shiver violently from the rain, and he swore under his breath as he jerked her sodden cloak off and flung it to the floor.

"If I had any doubts that you were not of this world, I have them no more, for you have pushed me to unnatural heights of anguish and anger this night." As he spoke, he continued removing her clothes, and she wasn't sure if it was because they were wet, or because he was angry and not thinking.

She sucked in her breath as he gently brushed the swell of her breasts above her bra. He raised his gaze to hers, speaking only in a whisper. "These are the clothes you wore the day you arrived. You actually were going to leave me?"

She touched her fingers to his lips. "Shh," she shook her head in answer. He looked so forlorn. "I love you so much, Nicholas, but is it enough?"

"We will make it so," he answered, his lips once again pressing hers, compelling her to give all of herself into his safe keeping. Without reservation, she finally conceded.

Somewhere in the heat of their passion, she stopped shivering and stopped worrying about the future. She concentrated only on his love. His touch roused all her nerve endings to the pinnacle of sensitivity. He lifted her from the edge of the desk and in seconds her jeans were stripped from her legs.

Her lycra running shorts stuck to her like a second skin, and he hesitated before removing them. He tilted his head to the side as though not sure what they were, then shrugged. She guessed it didn't matter, as long as they were off.

Once he had her naked, he gently lifted her back on the desk and removed his own clothes. She watched, ever fascinated by the play of muscles across his chest, the strong hands which were always gentle with her. She sucked in her breath at his nakedness, for no matter how often they had made love, he still caused her heart to quicken.

He stood before her, magnificent and proud, no cane supporting him, and her heart wept. How much longer would she have--how many days, or hours, before she was no longer needed and would be sent back?

If
those were the rules.

Nicholas gently spread her legs and stepped between them. When his chest touched her breasts, her nipples stiffened and she felt on fire.

"Remember my promise?" he whispered against her mouth, kissing the corners, before trailing his tongue along her lips. She opened to his unspoken request and he deepened the kiss. Instead of satisfying her desire, he only fueled the fire. She ran her hands up his chest, stopping momentarily at his nipples before circling his neck to hold him tight.

"Do you remember?" he asked her again.

"I don't need a promise, Nicholas. I only need you. Please, take me to bed." She was breathing heavily and wondered if she could hold off the ache which meant she was near climax. She wasn't ready for these exquisite feelings to end.

"You are a hard woman, Jaci Eastman, not to remember my promise. A man's promise is his bond." His breath came in short gasps as he entered her in a single stroke. He made love to her with a rhythm so intense she wondered they didn't disintegrate from the heat. She clung to his shoulders, her bottom resting on the desk, her legs locked around his back to prevent him from leaving her as he moved faster.

"Nicholas," she gasped as she climaxed, the contractions cresting in wave after wave of sensation. When she thought the sweetness could not get better, he cried out her name.

He pulled her off the desk and anchored her against him. His hands supported her as he slowly turned in a circle, and the climax she thought finished kept tumbling over and over within her.

In that glorious moment of completion, she did recall the promise he had given her. A silly promise, really, under ordinary circumstances. And yet, their love was anything but ordinary. He had promised one day to make love to her standing up.

* * *

The clattering of the train's wheels against the track woke Jaci from the few minutes of fitful sleep she had tried to capture. Her cheeks flushed as she straightened in her seat, hoping no one on the train noticed the way her breath had caught. She prayed she hadn't moaned in her sleep.