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Authors: Karyn Gerrard
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him
to be happy, she loved him that much. And she knew he would not be
happy in 2011.
Jerrod had not mentioned her going with him.
Could she? She had a life here, just as he had one back in 1821.
How would she adjust to 1821? She couldn't, she would be miserable.
No electricity? Hot water? Life would be simpler, too simple. Go to
bed at sunset, rise at dawn. Drink tea in stuffy parlors. Read.
What in hell else? She would find it all tedious.
Jerrod would be there, every day...and
night . She couldn't. She wouldn't. She thought of Brian,
stating there was no guarantee he would wind up back in his own
time or in Cornwall. It all seemed so hopeless. So futile. So
heartbreaking. Sandra cried herself back to sleep.
****
For the next few days, Sandra and Jerrod were
hardly out of each other's company, or each other's arms. Or out of
Sandra’s bed. Jerrod had never felt this way with a woman. He loved
how she returned his affection and desire. This was all new to him,
the intensity, the depth of the emotions involved, the never-ending
sex that went on for hours.
In his age there was too much decorum, and
society rules. Sitting in stuffy parlors making small talk. It was
much more open in this age. He found it...liberating.
And here and now, after such glorious days and
even more glorious nights, they stood, close, not wanting to be
parted even for a moment. He leaned in, his hand on the wall next
to where she leaned, and rubbed his cheek next to hers. They had
shared so much these last few days, intimacies he had shared with
no other woman. They talked of so much, of their lives, the
different times in which they lived. But they did not speak of
love, nor of him leaving. Perhaps neither wanted to break the
spell.
But speak of it they must.
"Sandra, the longer I am here, the more
difficult it will be for me to leave. We must act, but when you are
near me like this, I want to throw caution to the wind," he
whispered. "I know it is a risk, but I must try. I do not belong
here," he continued remorsefully. "My family needs me, Pendern Hall
needs me. And what of the other people in that carriage? What if my
return is tantamount to their release?"
"You don't belong here," she said
simply.
Jerrod glanced at Sandra. Were there tears in
her eyes? This is why he did not want to bring up his departure, if
there was to be one. He had been thinking about it since the first
night they had made love. Could she come back with him? It would be
too much to ask. He could no more ask her to come than he could
stay. They were at an impasse. He refused to consider that their
plan, as weak and fragile and illogical as it was, would not work.
He had to believe. Hope. Or all was lost. To risk all, his very
life, on a crack of lightning? Utter bollocks. But he had nothing
else to cling to.
He reached and cupped her face in his large
hands, forcing her to look up at him. God's blood, there were tears in her eyes. A few trickled down her flushed
cheeks, he reached with his thumbs and gently wiped them away. The
over whelming feelings of tenderness swamped him afresh. He wanted
more than anything to protect her. To make her his own.
He leaned down, still cupping her lovely face,
and kissed her. Tenderly at first, a slight brushing of his lips to
hers, but it soon escalated. He could not help it. Her nearness,
her touch. His tongue plunged deep, and he moaned. As she had the
last few days, she returned his passion, giving selflessly. Opening
her heart in ways he was afraid to. He was utterly terrified at the
emotions washing over him.
No more kissing, he wanted her now. In the
basest, most carnal way imaginable. He threw her over his shoulder
like a warrior of old, and stalked toward her bedroom, solemn in
his purpose. His purpose of fucking her quite thoroughly. He
dropped her none too gently on the bed, and began to tear at his
own clothes. A few buttons popped and hit the floor as he tore his
shirt from his body. Sandra watched him with
to be happy, she loved him that much. And she knew he would not be
happy in 2011.
Jerrod had not mentioned her going with him.
Could she? She had a life here, just as he had one back in 1821.
How would she adjust to 1821? She couldn't, she would be miserable.
No electricity? Hot water? Life would be simpler, too simple. Go to
bed at sunset, rise at dawn. Drink tea in stuffy parlors. Read.
What in hell else? She would find it all tedious.
Jerrod would be there, every day...and
night . She couldn't. She wouldn't. She thought of Brian,
stating there was no guarantee he would wind up back in his own
time or in Cornwall. It all seemed so hopeless. So futile. So
heartbreaking. Sandra cried herself back to sleep.
****
For the next few days, Sandra and Jerrod were
hardly out of each other's company, or each other's arms. Or out of
Sandra’s bed. Jerrod had never felt this way with a woman. He loved
how she returned his affection and desire. This was all new to him,
the intensity, the depth of the emotions involved, the never-ending
sex that went on for hours.
In his age there was too much decorum, and
society rules. Sitting in stuffy parlors making small talk. It was
much more open in this age. He found it...liberating.
And here and now, after such glorious days and
even more glorious nights, they stood, close, not wanting to be
parted even for a moment. He leaned in, his hand on the wall next
to where she leaned, and rubbed his cheek next to hers. They had
shared so much these last few days, intimacies he had shared with
no other woman. They talked of so much, of their lives, the
different times in which they lived. But they did not speak of
love, nor of him leaving. Perhaps neither wanted to break the
spell.
But speak of it they must.
"Sandra, the longer I am here, the more
difficult it will be for me to leave. We must act, but when you are
near me like this, I want to throw caution to the wind," he
whispered. "I know it is a risk, but I must try. I do not belong
here," he continued remorsefully. "My family needs me, Pendern Hall
needs me. And what of the other people in that carriage? What if my
return is tantamount to their release?"
"You don't belong here," she said
simply.
Jerrod glanced at Sandra. Were there tears in
her eyes? This is why he did not want to bring up his departure, if
there was to be one. He had been thinking about it since the first
night they had made love. Could she come back with him? It would be
too much to ask. He could no more ask her to come than he could
stay. They were at an impasse. He refused to consider that their
plan, as weak and fragile and illogical as it was, would not work.
He had to believe. Hope. Or all was lost. To risk all, his very
life, on a crack of lightning? Utter bollocks. But he had nothing
else to cling to.
He reached and cupped her face in his large
hands, forcing her to look up at him. God's blood, there were tears in her eyes. A few trickled down her flushed
cheeks, he reached with his thumbs and gently wiped them away. The
over whelming feelings of tenderness swamped him afresh. He wanted
more than anything to protect her. To make her his own.
He leaned down, still cupping her lovely face,
and kissed her. Tenderly at first, a slight brushing of his lips to
hers, but it soon escalated. He could not help it. Her nearness,
her touch. His tongue plunged deep, and he moaned. As she had the
last few days, she returned his passion, giving selflessly. Opening
her heart in ways he was afraid to. He was utterly terrified at the
emotions washing over him.
No more kissing, he wanted her now. In the
basest, most carnal way imaginable. He threw her over his shoulder
like a warrior of old, and stalked toward her bedroom, solemn in
his purpose. His purpose of fucking her quite thoroughly. He
dropped her none too gently on the bed, and began to tear at his
own clothes. A few buttons popped and hit the floor as he tore his
shirt from his body. Sandra watched him with
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