Somewhere in Time (The Crosse Harbor Time Travel Trilogy) by Barbara Bretton Page B

task.
    McVie nodded. "I have always been so."
    They listened to the sound of Zane's rapid breathing as he dozed on the trundle bed.
    "I know I should be worrying about all sorts of dreadful things," said Emilie, "but right now all I can think about is food."
    Andrew started for the door. "Come with me and I'll cut some ham for you and Rutledge."
    He wasn't entirely certain what he was going to do with the two travelers through time, but he did know he wasn't about to let them out of his sight.

Chapter Six

    The ham was salty and tasted of wood smoke and the rum was potent, but Emilie polished off a portion of each with gusto. Zane awoke once in considerable pain and McVie pushed the bottle toward him. Zane didn't hesitate and soon slept peacefully once again.
    "The pain will ease by the morrow," said McVie, from his spot near the door.
    "I hope so," said Emilie, smoothing Zane's dark hair off his forehead with a gentle touch. McVie had helped her to dress the cuts on Zane's forehead and back, and together they had used the rest of the quilt to bind his ribcage. She had thanked God that his ribs had been bruised and not broken. "I appreciate all you're doing for us, Andrew. I know this must seem more unbelievable to you than it does to us."
    He tossed the quarter she'd given him into the air then caught it in his palm. "You have shown me some things that not even logic can disprove."
    It was hard to see his expression clearly in the gathering darkness but Emilie thought she caught a look of concern in his eyes.
    "Is something wrong? Is there something about Zane's condition that I should know about?"
    So that was the way the wind blew, thought Andrew. Her concern for Rutledge went deeper than perhaps even she realized.
    "Nay, madam, I have kept nothing about Rutledge's infirmities from you. It is another, more distressing, matter that concerns me."
    She nodded as if she knew. "You have to leave us," she said, in that oddly-accented voice of hers. "I understand."
    Andrew arched a brow in question. "That notion does not cause you alarm?"
    "It doesn't thrill me," said Emilie, "but I know that you have a life of your own." And a destiny to be met. "I believe I can make a life for myself here."
    Andrew gestured toward Rutledge, sleeping deeply on the trundle bed, his broken arm propped upon a pillow at his side.
    "What of Rutledge?" he asked. "He does not strike me as a man willing to forego the world he left behind."
    "Has he a choice? We're alive and we're here. The sooner we make our peace with that truth, the happier we will be."
    Andrew considered his words carefully. "And what of you, madam? Do you not feel the pull of friends and loved ones left behind?"
    "There's no one," she said. "Not a soul."
    He wondered about the bond between her and Rutledge but he refrained from asking. She obviously had affection for the giant of a man but how deep that affection ran was beyond his knowing.
    As for Rutledge, he had about him the look of a man who had laid claim to a woman. A vivid image, shockingly explicit in its attention to detail, came to life and he closed his eyes against it. The Mistress Emilie had said she and Rutledge were unwed but Andrew was worldly enough to know that meant little when the blood ran hot.
    He cast a curious glance toward her as she sat by Rutledge's side. She sat stitching the plain blue fabric from the coverlet into a skirt. She had an air of industry about her and he wondered if there was any goal she could not attain if she put her mind to it. She was a woman of bountiful charms, not the least of which was a most intriguing demeanor that was at once both fierce and agreeable.
    He cleared his throat. "About your manner of dress," he began. "It appears to my eyes to be most...unusual attire."
    For a moment she forgot what she'd been wearing when this whole thing began and she looked down to find herself clad in a demure 18th century bodice and 20th century leggings. She quickly explained to him about the