Naughty Temptations

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Valerie resurfaced and awoke with a start, alone in the mahogany bed with Grayson’s name still on her lips. She could almost feel his touch lingering on her nude body that was now chilled to the bone. The quilt was in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. It was a gray day outside. Sometime while she slept it had begun to rain.

Where was she? Or rather, when was she?

The room looked the same as it had in both her time and Grayson’s era. Except she didn’t hear Critty meowing for his morning dose of Rich Kitty and the old cranberry glass lamp held a wick and some kerosene in its base. She glanced at the antique nightstand. It looked like new. Grayson’s photo and letter weren’t there where she’d left them when she’d gone to sleep in her own time. There was fresh water in the yellow rose washing basin on the bureau.

How long had she been out? And where was Grayson?

She spied her nightgown on the floor where Grayson had tossed it. Shivering, she scooped it up and slid it over her body. The dream catcher was still on the floor by the window where it had fallen. She eyed it warily. Something told her not to touch it. Unlike her first encounter with Grayson, this time she hadn’t been returned to her own time when the rooster crowed at dawn. Instead she’d been deposited back in Grayson’s bed.

Perhaps the dream catcher could only work if it was hung over a window. If she put it on the peg again she might be yanked back to her own time. She intended to stay right where she was and find Grayson. She prayed the explosion she’d heard before she faded out of his arms hadn’t signaled the war right at the doorstep of Hunter’s Chance. What if he was already dead?

She flew down the staircase in her bare feet, her loose hair swirling around her shoulders, calling his name. The house was still and silent. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the enormous front hall answered her.

Through a downstairs window, a movement in the gloom of the rainstorm outside caught her eye. A tall, dark-haired man was down by the woods in the soaking rain near the small Hunter cemetery. He seemed to be shoveling mud onto a mound. She flung open the front door and ran to the railing of the front verandah.

“Grayson!”

He glanced up. A look of determination stole across his stony features as he tossed aside the shovel and strode up the long, gentle slope to the house. She drank in the sight of him with relief. She’d never seen him in clothing before. He was wearing a white, French pattern shirt with four buttons at the collar, the cuffs turned back to his forearms, and butternut brown trousers made of a durable woolen and cotton mixture. His leather brogans were covered in mud and leaves. A Bowie knife was sheathed on his belt and in one hand he carried a monstrously enormous revolver. She knew from her recent internet Civil War research that it was a Colt Dragoon. Like her, he was drenched to the skin, the waves of his short hair slicked back with rainwater.

Without waiting another second, she leapt down the white columned stairs, barely aware of the cold rain that plastered her nightgown to her body. Her bare feet froze as she splashed through the puddles of the muddy front road to meet him.

Concern warred with joy on his face at the sight of her. “Valerie! Go back!”

“Nice to see you, too,” she yelled, a bit miffed by such a piss poor welcome.

She met him half way, where he caught her up in his arms. He paused only to plant a hard kiss on her upturned face before carrying her quickly up the slope to the house.

“I’m happy to see you, Valerie Heart. Even if you did leave me last time in the middle of what was a most enjoyable interlude.” He shot her a hard look.

“It’s not exactly like I planned it that way!” She looked over his shoulder at the trees behind them. “What were you doing down there?”

He shot her a steely glance. “That’s a story for another time. It’s not safe outdoors just now.”

As if to confirm his words, from the direction of the woods came the loud report of a gun.

“What the hell was that?”

“The world, burning itself to the ground.” He carried her without slowing his stride, the heavy downpour washing the mud from her legs and feet.

“The war is passing through here just now, Valerie. There are deserters from both sides in the woods. Sherman’s men are passing on the eastern road to Columbia. All my neighbors on adjoining lands have already fled.”

She looked over at the deserted slaves’ quarters in view near the fields. Those small cabins were mere ruins in her day.

“Where are the… field workers?” she asked.

“The slaves you mean? When my father died this past month, I fired their overseer and commenced them on their journey north through the Underground Railroad. I never held with my father’s beliefs.”

She hugged his neck. “I knew you were ahead of your time!”

There was one detail didn’t make sense. “But in the picture you sent me, you’re wearing a Confederate uniform.”

“That’s because I’m a captain in the Confederate Army, home on bereavement leave.”

“Oh.” She slid her gaze away from his, confused.

“And a spy for the Union Army.” He slanted her a direct look. “As I said. I never held with my father’s beliefs. However, I couldn’t very well send you a photograph of me in Yankee blue.”

She gasped. If his true allegiance were discovered below the Mason-Dixon line, his life wouldn’t be worth a mint julep.

“Why didn’t you get the hell out of here when you had the chance?”

They had reached the verandah but he didn’t put her down until after he’d crossed the threshold and bolted the door behind them.

“At first, I couldn’t leave until the people living on my land were safely away. And then, after you so charmingly arrived in my bed, albeit ever so briefly, I didn’t have the heart or will to leave. Not without you,” he said with disarming bluntness, his gray eyes flashing.

She remembered what he’d said in his letter. He had stayed longer than he should have, hoping for her return. Would it cost him his life? Her own future was now equally unclear. If she died in 1865 would she awaken back in her own time, or stay dead here? Nothing was certain. Except that she was falling in love with the man standing before her. She soaked in the realization with quiet awe.

Beyond the closed door, gunfire sounded again from the direction of the woods, more distant this time. She started in his arms.

“Well, sorry I was late to the party, but here I am now. Let’s beat it.” She could barely get the words out, her teeth were chattering so hard from cold.

“Beat it?”

“You know. Scoot. Skedaddle. Get the hell out of Dodge. Make like a tree and leave.”

He pulled her into the parlor where he knelt to build a crackling fire in the hearth, laying aside his gun and knife. “You folks from the future sure talk funny. If I take your meaning, we can’t leave now. The area is surrounded. Sherman is in a hurry to march east to the sea.”

“But if you’re on their side, wouldn’t they give us safe passage?”

“Unfortunately not. I recently disobeyed a direct order from my Union liaison that could result in my arrest and probable hanging if the Yankees know of it and apprehend me. Meantime, the deserters are heading south and west under cover of the trees. I’m not sure how to sneak both of us past the Yankees and the deserters until each party is safely past us and nearer to their respective destinations.”

He indicated the fireplace. “The chimney smoke will alert stray deserters the place is occupied and defended. They’ll stay away out of fear of being confronted. Meantime, we have shelter and some food left in the larder. We might be fine in here for a while longer if we wait for the area to clear before we head west ourselves. That is, ma’am,” he paused to inquire with exaggerated politeness, “if you’re here to stay? Not planning on disappearing to the future any time soon, I hope?”

She was shivering, aware that her wet nightgown clung translucently to her every curve like a second skin. As he worked on the fire, his gaze flicked more than once to the clear outline of her hardened n*****s.

“I’m quite cozy here for the moment, thank you very much,” she answered tartly, clearly freezing right in front of him.

The fire caught and she moved closer to its warmth. He kicked off his muddy shoes and stripped off his wet shirt exposing his muscular torso. Her breath hitched. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. He grabbed a crocheted lap blanket off the ornate sofa and handed it to her. “Let’s get you out of that wet thing you’re wearing before you catch your death of dampness.”

Without waiting for her to comply, he hauled the sopping nightgown over her head. Giving her scant time to blush, he wrapped her in the soft, woolen lap blanket and rubbed her dry with brisk strokes. Delicious warmth began to pervade her limbs again, but it didn’t match the fire he was igniting in her belly and between her legs.

To distract herself, she asked, “Why would we be fine here a while longer? Won’t they, I don’t know, burn and pillage the place? Sherman was pretty famous for that, according to Google.”

His hands stilled their ministrations. “Who is Google? Your beau in the future? Do I have a rival for your affections, Valerie Amy Heart?” he asked tightly.

She laughed at that, causing his thunderous scowl to deepen. She sobered immediately. “No, Grayson. Google is just a way we get information in my time. It’s not a person. There’s no need for pistols at dawn, or anything. The truth is, I’m, uh, in between beaux at the moment.”

“Not anymore you’re not.” He bent his head and claimed her lips for his own.

Without breaking their kiss, his hands slid under the blanket and his palms slid around her, pulling her close, gently crushing her soft breasts against his chest. She felt his heavy erection trapped beneath his wet trousers.

“I’m sure I don’t rightly know this wise oracle named ‘Google’,” he said when he lifted his head, leaving her breathless, “but Sherman’s advance scouts have already been here and gone while I took refuge in the woods. Sherman’s only stopping along the way enough to re-supply as he can. They are on a fast march to Columbia and so his soldiers only took the horses and what’s left of the livestock before departing again. They even took that damned rooster.”

“Good. I hated that rooster.”

His lips twitched in a ghost of a smile as he finished drying her, leaving her body tingling and pink as much from his touch as from the friction of the woolen blanket.

“I swear by all that’s holy, if they hadn’t taken the blasted thing, I’d have roasted it and served it up to Sherman myself. Each time the confounded bird crowed, you disappeared from my arms. Once even while I was inside you, you’ll recall. That was not a fitting way for our lovemaking to end.” He looked at her with reproach in his eyes.

“Um, yeah, hi, newbie time traveler here. Not exactly my fault! What date is it?” She was impatient to know.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

His eyes followed hers to the wall across from the fireplace. It looked recently patched and there was fresh paint on a small square near the floorboards. Exactly where she would put a sledgehammer one hundred and fifty Valentine’s Days from now. She and Grayson were meant to be. But for how long?

“Will you be mine?” Grayson’s voice was thick with desire.

She smiled and let the blanket fall from her shoulders. His eyes darkened to a stormy gray as they caressed her body from head to toe. She reached for the fastening to his trousers, her fingers fumbling a bit.

“Let’s get you out of that wet thing you’re wearing before you catch your death of dampness,” she mimicked his earlier words, doing her best to imitate his southern drawl.

He took over, shedding his trousers and kicking them aside. In the gloom of the stormy afternoon, he sank down with her to the soft carpet before the fire.

“That’s better. I almost didn’t recognize you with clothing on.” She shot him a teasing grin.

“This time I intend to do things right, woman.” He reached for her as though she was his last meal. “I won’t let Yankees, Rebels, roosters, or time itself rush this. Abe Lincoln couldn’t order me away from you now.”

As though to prove it he seemed to take satisfaction in teasing her with his hard on, moving her hand to grip his thickening shaft. She made an involuntary whimpering sound at the back of her throat that made him laugh softly in male triumph.

“Welcome back, darlin’.” He bent his head and brushed his mouth against her parted lips. The bud nestled between the folds of her labia twitched. Her inner thighs grew slick with excitement. She could scent her own arousal in the air as he inhaled deeply with a pleased groan.

She sucked air into her starved lungs when he lightly pinched her breasts that had grown hypersensitive to his touch. The aching buds turned pink under his sensual abuse. She squirmed, half in protest and half in pleasure, as a trickle of her own moisture rolled down her inner thigh.

Grayson let his hand trail down her body until his fingers clenched into the taut globes of her buttocks. Inexorably, he pressed her lower body to his so he could grind her against his heavy, thick arousal.

His smile was wicked when he discovered the growing damp patch at her crotch with a calloused finger. “I must be doing something right.”

“Yep. You’re a regular Rhett Butler,” she murmured, burying her hands in his thick, wavy hair.

“Who?”

“I’ll tell you later,” she moaned.

He dragged her across him to cradle her so he could palm her n****e. The unyielding pillar of his erection was nestled under her bottom. He planted little, nuzzling kisses along the sensitive curve of her neck that raised chill bumps of excitement in their wake.

Turning her head, she surrendered her lips willingly. He swooped to claim the gift as she twisted more fully against him.

His index finger parted her tender nether lips to burrow a little deeper. He found her c******s, plumped and wet. She strained for air as he stroked the sensitive pleasure center, her cream coating his fingers.

“So much for taking things slowly. You’re going to make me come faster than a speeding bullet if you keep that up,” she warned with a hoarse laugh.

He increased the speed of his finger swirling around her clit until she could barely breathe, much less talk. “Are all women from the future as verbose as you?”

She panted in his arms. “Well, we’ll win the right to vote in a few years. So what do you think?”

“I think you’re sassy as hell and if you won’t hush your mouth, madam, I’ll just have to find another way to keep it occupied.”

He smiled against her lips as he dipped his finger into her tight, hot channel. Her mind went blank again. Her legs opened wider and she arched her neck in silent plea for more. He deliberately bore down on her c******s with his knuckle. She moaned in his arms at the exquisite pressure that nearly sent her p***y into spasms.

She stroked his proud erection that blushed purplish at the head, almost fully upright to the level of his navel. The tip leaked his pre-come. In a blink, he had her laid out under him, his body pressing hers into the carpet.

He insinuated one knee between hers, nudging them apart until she was spread eagle beneath him on the carpet.

“Please, Grayson, don’t make us wait. Time could be short for all we know.” At her whispered plea he pushed a fraction more inside her. He remained poised there, giving her just a taste of the satisfaction his full possession would hold. The heavy friction of his smooth c**k teased as he further pushed tantalizingly into her entrance.

Never taking his gaze from hers, he eased into her dripping slit, testing her elasticity. Then he drove into her hot core, plunging his rigid c**k all the way inside her to his root. She bucked like a wild thing under him, her thighs spread wide to welcome him, urging his thick length even more deeply inside her.

Valerie shuddered in primal response to the pulsing sensation of his rhythmic thrusts as he held her hips still to receive him. Her entire body tightened as her orgasm grew and crested. Just when her shudders peaked, Grayson reached down and inserted his hand between their bodies to find the place where they were joined. With a flick of his index finger he had her body convulsing around him again, this time even harder. With a shout, he followed her, pouring himself into her p***y.

They lay entwined together in front of the dying fire, their pulses settling down, kissing and stroking one another until their flesh cooled.

“I’m starving,” Valerie finally admitted some time later.

“Your wish is my command, madam.” He smiled against her tangled hair.

“In that case, my kingdom for some indoor plumbing.”

“Is that anything like Google?” Grayson asked lazily, mystified.

“No, it’s even better. Trust me, we should totally invest in indoor plumbing. Get in on the ground floor.” She glanced up at the parlor window where the rain was coming down just as hard as before. “Meantime, I bet somewhere out there there’s an outhouse with my name on it. But afterwards, I might just have to invent indoor plumbing a little ahead of historical schedule.”

“Ah. Madam needs to use the privy, I take it?”

She had thought she was past blushing, and now discovered she was wrong. “This is so not something I wanted to get into on a third date, but yes. Please.”

He chuckled. “My lady’s chamber pot awaits her upstairs.”

“A chamber pot?” She wrinkled her nose. “Awesome. Yay eighteen-sixty-five.”

She reached for her nightgown, but it was still damp.

“I have some shirts in the wardrobe. Not,” he added brushing his hand around the curve of her naked breasts, “that I necessarily ever want you to wear clothing again, but if you must…”

She sucked in a deep breath at his touch and struggled to regain her equilibrium. “Thank you, kind sir. I must.”

He helped her to her feet, ever the gentleman, and stepped into his trousers that had dried quickly by the fire. “I’ll relieve the larder of the ham and cheese that Sherman’s soldiers missed during their visit.”

A few minutes later, she was back in the room where it all began. After donning one of Grayson’s linen shirts that fell to below her knees, she stood in front of the gilt mirror. She was flushed and mussed. Not exactly Scarlett O’Hara material. She tried to comb her fingers through her tangled hair and gave up almost instantly. Oh well, fiddle-dee-dee.

Something behind her on the floor caught her attention in the glass at the same time a faint, familiar humming noise reached her ears. Spinning around, she looked down at the dream catcher. She scooped it up, cradling it in both hands. The humming grew louder.

The creak of a floorboard sounded behind her. She whirled about to see a bearded man in a dirty, tattered blue uniform emerge from the shadows behind the wardrobe. His clothing was wet. Partially congealed blood dribbled from a cut on his cheek. His pistol was aimed at her heart.

She gave a startled scream.

“Valerie!” Bare feet pounded up the curved staircase that led to the upper floor. She turned in time to see Grayson charge through the door, wearing only his trousers, the Colt Dragoon in his hand.

“Stay back, Hunter!” The bearded man kept his pistol aimed at Valerie who was rooted to the floor between the two men. Grayson froze when he saw the intruder.

“Davis. I thought I killed you in Richmond.”

“You nearly did, you bastard.”

“I reckon I’ll have to try harder next time.” He took a deceptively lazy step into the room, running his gaze over Valerie. Once discerning she was unharmed, he addressed the man called Davis.

“Snuck in here while I was down by the woods, did you?”

“That’s right. After you left me for dead in Richmond, I thought I’d track you down and return the favor. Once you give me what I want.”

“That speech doesn’t offer much incentive to me, Davis,” Grayson drawled.

“If you don’t oblige me, I’ll kill her. That a better speech for you?”

Davis kept his weapon trained on Valerie as he c****d his pistol.

“The woman has nothing to do with this. Let her go.”

“Where the hell is the gold, Hunter?”

“It’s out of Confederate hands. That was our order from the Washington capitol. Remember? I’ll send word of its location once I’m above the Mason-Dixon line.”

“And I say you will not. If it’s filling my pocket it’s the same thing as out of Confederate hands. The Union isn’t going to miss one wagonload of gold bars, Hunter. I would have divided it with you. But you wanted it all for yourself, didn’t you, you sanctimonious scalawag?”

“Let her go and I’ll take you to the gold, Davis. It’s not far off.”

While Grayson distracted the man with talk of the gold, Valerie felt the dream catcher in her hand pull her toward Grayson, one small step at a time.

“No more fool am I,” the other man scoffed. “I will not trust a traitorous Greyback such as you again. I’ll keep your w***e with me while you go and fetch the gold here for my convenience. Better hurry so as I don’t get bored and decide to prevail upon her to keep me entertained a mite. She gave you such a good time in front of the fire earlier, I’ve a mind to sample her myself.” He leered.

The dream catcher was warm in Valerie’s palm. The humming grew more urgent, although the two men in the room didn’t seem to notice. It pulled her another step closer to Grayson.

Davis glanced over at Valerie. He re-trained his pistol at her, snarling, “Get over here, b***h!”

All of the sudden Grayson lunged forward, throwing himself between her and Davis.

Of its own volition, the dream catcher tangled in her fingers twitched and then yanked her arm up as Grayson brushed past her. As soon as the dream catcher made contact with Grayson’s forearm, there was a blue spark and the webbing inside the hoop snapped. Time seemed to slow down and speed up simultaneously.

Valerie felt herself begin to dissolve out of the room, sucked back into the fluid, liquid pool of time itself. With an epithet, Davis lurched at them, firing his pistol at point blank range. She sensed, rather than felt, the ball pass through her mid-section painlessly.

“Grayson!” She tried desperately to cling to his arm even as she felt herself melting away. He turned his head and his eyes snared hers. He mouthed her name but she could no longer hear him. In the next second, the horrific scene before her eyes faded to silent blackness.

*****

Morning sunlight streaming through the window woke her. Valerie slowly opened her eyes. The sight of Grayson Hunter’s face in the Daguerreotype photo greeted her from the antique nightstand. Critty leapt up on the bed, loudly demanding that breakfast be served. Now.

The broken dream catcher, its hum silenced forever, was still looped around her fingers. There could be no return to the past.