Timeless (Wounded Heroes Collection Book 3) by Eileen Dreyer & Kathleen Korbel

Author:Eileen Dreyer & Kathleen Korbel [Dreyer, Eileen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eileen Dreyer, LLC
Published: 2016-11-02T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

They got the shutters closed. They checked the generator not five minutes before the electricity from the mainland kicked out for good. They fought with the radio, which was simply too old and cranky to accept help. And all the while they worked in near silence.

Gen couldn’t allow herself the luxury of getting too used to Rafe. She couldn’t rely on him. Even so, she couldn’t ignore the swell of delight every time she turned around to find him close by. She couldn’t deny the fact that he filled her house with a music that harmonized beautifully with her own. She couldn’t avoid the way her body reacted to his proximity, anticipated his touch, ached for more.

So she concentrated on the storm, the house, and getting in touch with Annie, which was becoming a more complicated problem by the minute.

“I can’t disappoint her,” Gen insisted yet again as she listened to the wind climb another notch in pitch.

“It’s dark out,” Rafe reminded her. “You wouldn’t make it ten feet without ending up on a reef somewhere.”

“Not reefs,” she corrected wearily. “Marshes.”

“Whatever. You can’t go.”

She paced the living room, her eyes on the solid expanse of black where the windows had been. The shutters were holding off the storm with no problems, but the weather service had indicated that the worst might be yet to come. Gen couldn’t hold still. Maybe it was Rafe’s continued warnings, maybe it was her inability to get hold of Annie, but something was very wrong. Something hung in the air like a faint chill, and she couldn’t escape it. Something that gnawed mercilessly at her propelled her back again across the hardwood floor until Rafe escaped into the kitchen at the back of the house.

“It only takes ten minutes to get across the island on the moped,” she insisted again, pitching her voice over the constant howl of the storm.

Rafe leaned his head out, obviously having figured out the intricacies of sandwiches. “The what?”

“My bike.”

He shook his head. “You’re going to take a bicycle out in a hurricane. No wonder I’m here.”

“It’s not... oh, forget it. I’ll just go back into the shed and get it.”

He stepped all the way out now. “No, you won’t. You know better, Gen. We’ll try again in the morning.”

“But what if it’s worse out then?”

“Annie’s with her grandmother,” he reminded her.

Gen only laughed. “Her grandmother doesn’t believe in little girls’ fears,” she informed him.

“Please, Gen,” he pleaded. “Just wait till morning. She’ll make it through one night all right. I promise.”

Gen bit her tongue to keep from telling him about the kind of promises he made.

She was starting to believe it. To just assume that somehow Rafe had jumped right from a battlefield hospital in the 1800s to her front lawn, that she was caught in some kind of bizarre time loop caused by the electric disturbance of the storm and her emotional instability. That she was not just Genevieve O’Shea Mallory, but whoever that shadowy woman was who walked through the Confederate hospital in Richmond.

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