“I’ll speak to the girls about that, dear.”
“See that you do. Anyone could walk right in, not knowing it’s closed.”
“Really Morgan, stop worrying. I fail to see how anyone could miss that huge closed sign you insisted on,” she said, pointing to the window.
“I still think the door should be locked,” he replied, turning away.
“Yes, Morgan. Anything you say, Morgan,” she hissed under her breath.
“I heard that, you know,” he called over his shoulder.
“Of course you did, dear,” she called before shutting the door behind her and sliding the lock closed with a loud click. Good grief!
CHAPTER4
PRESENT DAY
The confines of the transfer chamber seemed smaller than ever as Cara paced in front of the designated area. It was early and on Witt’s authority they were alone. The others would have to be told, of course, but her main objective was to find out why Morgan was returning and to get him out of there as quickly as possible. His note told her nothing except that he would be arriving on Tuesday.
She hadn’t been sleeping well and each time her husband held her in his arms, each time he kissed her she wondered if it would be the last. Her bottom still smarted every time she sat, but Cara counted it as a small price to pay for his unwavering support. If it was eating at him, the possibility that he could literally disappear at any moment, he gave no sign of it.
Always rational, always controlled, Witt took the news in a way that pissed Cara right the hell off. How could he be so calm? Their life together was hanging by a thread. She wanted to grab him and shake him, but the vivid memory of Sunday night’s discipline held her back.
When she’d sobered up, he fed her, handed her medication for her aching head and as soon as he determined her well enough, he’d taken her over his knees for the mother of all spankings.
The worst part was he didn’t spank her for an experiment gone wrong or because at any moment he could cease to exist, ending their happiness. No, he spanked her for her sassy mouth and rude behavior, for getting drunk, and for not being honest with him.
“I will not tolerate disrespect from my wife,” he’d informed her as his hand connected with her naked butt over and over. “In this marriage we are honest with one another, and we share our worries. Keeping this from me was not in your best interest, Cara Mia. I hope you see that now. I cannot fix what I don’t know about. How could you be so foolish? We must face this together,” he continued, slapping methodically away until she was a sobbing, repentant mess, leaking from nearly every orifice. After a suitable amount of corner time, he pulled her into his arms, comforting her and assuring her all would be well. Even if they should become separated, it would be temporary as he would use all his considerable knowledge to find her. They were soulmates he informed her gently as he kissed away her tears. It seemed her husband, a brilliant scientist, had the heart of a romantic.
“Cara,will you stop that pacing and check the data? I felt a slight disturbance a moment ago.”
Sighing, she did as he asked, willing her heart to slow down. He was right, but before she could open her mouth to tell him she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and spun around. Instantly she took in the antique wheelchair. The man seated in it would have been very attractive had his eyes not been clouded with pain and apprehension. His hair was dark like Morgan’s, his face showing an attractive growth of beard that was all the rage now. The suit he wore was obviously well made and spoke more of a professional than a cowboy or rancher. A gentleman, she decided as he surveyed the room with interest.
Witt recovered first and approached him with an outstretched hand.
“Hello Morgan, I’m Dr. Whittaker.”
“That’s not Morgan,” Cara whispered, wondering if the man had a gun.
“Excuse me?”
“I said that’s not Morgan,” she repeated. “I don’t know this man.”
Mead smiled.
“My brother said you were beautiful, Cara, and he was telling the truth. I’m Mead, Mead Whittaker, Morgan’s brother,” he continued, shaking Witt’s still outstretched hand.
“Where’s Morgan?” Cara asked, looking around as though she’d missed something.
“He’s not coming, he sent me instead. I have a letter from him that I think will explain everything.” Reaching into his inner coat pocket, Mead withdrew the papers and handed them to Cara.
Walking to the desk Cara sat down and began to read as Mead related the details of the injury to his knee to Witt. The first injury while he served with the Union Army and the second during the shootout at The Duchess.
Cara,
I’m sure you now realize that I’m not coming back. By the grace of God, I’ve found a new life here, one that I cannot and will not abandon. You also surely know that I was not able to leave Miss Walker to her fate, nor could I leave my brother to suffer the repercussions of my decision to intervene.
Mead needs medical attention that is not available in my time, but it is in yours. I expect him to receive the best care possible and with the utmost haste. He must be returned as soon as possible.I’m well aware that the window of opportunity could close suddenly and even though you say you’re working on broadening that time frame, I’m not willing to take that risk with Mead.
