Her belly sank. She realized he thought very little of criminals. What would he think of her when he found out about the things she had done? She had never been frightened before. But there had never been a threat like Detective Pendridge around before.
He was going to catch her.
“Are you cold?” he whispered over her head. “You’re trembling.”
She tried to slow her breath. She was made of stronger mettle than this. He had not done much to prove that his prowess at catching her was any greater than any other failed attempt made by other men. What was she so worried about? He said he would protect her. That did not mean throw her in a cell.
She let herself relax against him and yawned. He held his breath, feeling her breathe instead. “Tell me more about your world, Michael. Convince me that you are not ill in the head.”
He chuckled softly. “I don’t know if I can convince you of that, but our music consists of a lot more instruments or synths. There are hundreds of different styles, thousands of different beats. There might be one singer or many. Some are fast, some are slow ballads, and all them can be heard by anyone who has a radio, a computer, phone, you know the rest.”
“Oh,” she breathed longingly. “I wish I could hear it.”
He began humming a tune and hitting his knee for rhythm. It was a fast tune, but different in tempo than anything she’d ever heard before. He began singing about wanting someone back and seeing her in someone else’s arms. Despite the lyrics being on the sad side, excluding the bursts ofoh, oh baby, the song was playful and catchy.
“I like it,” she told him when it was done.
“The little boy who sang it was twelve at the time and grew up to be one of the most famous performers in the world.”
“Sing another!”
This time, he chose something slower, softer. His voice swept across her ears and went straight to her heart, slowing it. He had a very pleasant singing voice. She wanted to tell him, but she was too weary.
She cuddled closer and finally felt herself being draped across his strong thighs and her head cradled in the crook of his arm.
She was safe here. She was protected. She was important.
Chapter Fourteen
Michael looked aroundin the darkness for Mr. Simeon. Charlotte didn’t seem to mind, but Michael knew he sounded like a full-blown, certifiable nut. He knew it. He was sure she knew it, too. He couldn’t prove anything he told her about the future. He didn’t know why he told her in the first place. He feared she would look at him differently now. He didn’t blame her if she did. He wouldn’t have believed him if he were her. And yet, her father, whom she didn’t get along with, believed him on the first telling. Old John, too.
Mr. Simeon could prove Michael wasn’t out of his mind. Where was he? Michael tried to remember everything Simeon had told him. Michael had definitely traveled back in time. He believed it. It was all real. There might be a way to get home. All he had to do was talk about the future enough to maybe threaten the steady course of things. They’d come back for him like they came back for Miss Lancaster. He could tell the judge things. He could tell a whole room of judges things. Did he want to? Was there a reason he got the brooch and came back? What did it all mean? This had to do with King Arthur, but what did Michael have to do with any of it? Was he just unfortunate to get the brooch and find his true love?
Gazing down at her asleep in his lap, his heart melted against his ribs. He would keep her from picking any more pockets if he had to follow her everywhere she went. She’d told him he would put her in a cell. He would make sure he never did.
He wished they had brought some whiskey, but he hadn’t even thought of it until now She made him feel lightheaded enough. She made him forget everything, including his duties. He should have questioned their prisoner today. He most likely would have found out much, but he allowed Charlotte to distract him and the bastard got away. Now, here he was sitting atop a hill waiting for the sun to rise, as if it were some huge event. One that Charlotte couldn’t stay awake for.
He should be out hunting the perp. Once again, he allowed Charlotte to distract him from his duties.
He was about to wake her and take her home when he was distracted by a wash of golden light. He turned to witness the top arch of the sun dazzle the earth beneath it. Light burst forth in blinding, gold, orange, and crimson shafts. A new day was being born. New chances, new beginnings, new mercies.
He had a gun and he had a bullet, but he hadn’t thought about using them on himself. He drank tonight but he would have preferred not to if he knew he’d see Clements. He didn’t want to forget his friends. He just wanted peace from them. Maybe here, in seventeen twenty-four he would find that peace.
As he watched the sun make its lazy ascent over the horizon, he thought of all the possibilities that were dawning with the day and he suddenly felt choked up. He wanted to take a step out. Everything would be okay.
He felt a tear fall from his eye and then he felt Charlotte’s hand on his arm. She was awake, sitting up—she leaned in and tilted her beautiful face up to his.
Should he kiss her? He wanted to do more than that. He wanted to ravish her.
She slipped her hands over his face and stared into his glassy eyes as the sun rounded to a fiery orb in the sky. He closed his arms around her tighter and dipped his head.
What about ruining this place for her?
She pulled his head down more to reach her eager mouth.
He pressed his lips to hers. She responded with nervousness and shyness, a completely different reaction than what he was used to…before.
Slowly, he cupped her cheek and her nape and took her deeper, molding his mouth to hers, branding her with his kiss. He breathed her, tasted her, and teased her with his tongue, flicking it over her lips, her teeth.
