She wasn’t prepared for his smile. “You did,” Rafe assured her gently. “I researched it all myself while I was trying to help Genny. You had a friend when you were a little girl, a very close friend.”
It only took a second before Gen’s eyes grew very wide. “Oh, my God. Eddie. Edmund R. McCalpin.” Her eyes did fill this time, as she faced the man she’d loved for so long. Would evidently love throughout time. “We were only seven. I never even asked what theRstood for in his name.” She couldn’t do much more than shake her head in wonder. “So, you saved me twice in one lifetime.”
“My pleasure,” he said with a smile. And a kiss. A soft, slow meeting of reacquaintance, of recommitment. Gen sank into his embrace and thought about the kind of love that transcended time, the smoke of a passion that rose life after life, never extinguished. She thought of the joy she’d known, even briefly, in this man’s arms, and could no longer question how he had come there.
For a long few minutes, they simply rested in each other’s arms, savoring the cadence of matched heartbeats, greedily clinging to a love too many times lost.
Gen had so many questions she wanted to ask, about Rafe, about his life and the ones before. So many things she wanted to know about the Rafe she was lucky enough to hold in her arms.
But there were other questions that had to be raised, and Gen wanted no part of those. Even though she knew there wasn’t any way around them.
“You’re a farmer,” she said instead, her eyes closed, her heart beginning to race.
“Kind of,” he agreed. “I raise horses.”
She nodded against him, suddenly hearing those old echoes, the voices of other women who had held their future in their arms and not known its power.
“Do you remember the other times?”
She knew she didn’t have to explain. Rafe lifted a hand to her hair. “Bits and pieces. It began the same way it did with you, the dreams about Richmond, about the island, about drowning, memories of other Genevieves—except I always had a Gen to love. But I guess when I was trying to find something out that might help her, I became kind of obsessed with you. I simply couldn’t believe the story that was handed down.”
“Rafe.”
He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them. “Yes, my love.”
The tears that had threatened spilled over onto his hands as Gen fought for the courage to give back her gift. “You’ll have to go back now,” she said, her voice hushed with misery. “Now that you’ve saved her.”
She hadn’t wanted an answer, so Gen didn’t know what to make of the sweet delight in Rafe’s eyes. “I’m not sure what happens now,” he admitted. “I’m still not sure how I landed here, but I certainly don’t have to go back.”
“But, Rafe,” Gen insisted instinctively, “you belong there, with that Genevieve. In your own time.”
His smile was mischievous. “You’re that anxious to get rid of me?”
“But you have a life there. Your work, your Genevieve.”
“I’ve never really been in touch with my own time, Gen. Horse raising isn’t exactly a growth industry in my day and age.”
Gen couldn’t understand. “Life isn’t better then?”
He smiled down at her. “Some better, some worse. But I’ve spent the last five years of my life learning about you, learning about the twentieth century, and I think I want to raise my horses here, with you and Annie. I think I’ve belonged here all along.”
“But what about your Genevieve?”
His eyes glinted with wry delight. “You’re my Genevieve. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. The Gen in my life is my cousin. I love her, but I’ve never been in love with her. I’ve been in love with you since the first picture I saw of you.”
“Your—”
He nodded, gave her a delighted smile. “Yes.”
Gen felt her heart stumble and right itself again. She couldn’t quite breathe. Emotions pitched and swirled in her like the surf outside, stunning her into silence, lifting her to a soaring exhilaration that sang in her like a high wind.
Stay. He wanted to stay. With her.
“It’s that easy?” she asked.
Rafe held on tightly, with his hands and arms and eyes, his attention as fierce as his protection. “Don’t you think it’s about time the O’Shea women had a little good luck in the love department?” he demanded. “Not to mention the men they keep falling in love with. Think of it. We’ll marry and have more babies while I raise horses and you head your own business, and we’ll grow very old together, so the cosmos will be forced into getting two other poor suckers to pop into our grandkids. And we’ll be able to raise them all right this time.”
Gen couldn’t decide whether to laugh, sing or cry. “Can we do that?”
