Page 63 of Stay with Me

The desperation within it tugged at her heart. “I want to be with you, Nicholas, as I have for no one else ever before.”

“And I you.”

If this parting was already difficult, it was only bound to grow more so the longer they were together. What was she doing, encouraging this relationship and fostering a bond with him? She couldn’t predict the ending of their story, but she suspected it involved much heartache. A strange sorrow took root in her chest—a sorrow she didn’t want to think about at the moment.

As though sensing her sorrow, he slipped his hand around the back of her neck. “You will be here when I return, and we shall find a way to be together.”

Before she could figure out a right—and truthful—reply, he bent and fused his mouth with hers. The taste of him was full of both sunshine and rain, wind and earth, joy and bittersweetness.

She gave herself over to him, unable to resist the pull to love him, even though she had to use caution. He allowed her little choice, plunging into the kiss with a fervor that pushed her to respond in the same, letting their mouths say everything words couldn’t—that they were bonded, that this desire between them was more real than anything, and that they needed each other more than they needed sustenance.

How was it that being in the past, being with him, and being in love brought her to life in a way she’d never before experienced?

His kiss turned hard and desperate. He seemed to be offering her promises of the future, a lifetime of love and pleasure together, giving her a taste of all they would have when he returned.

She let her kiss grow just as desperate, her response telling him how much she cared about him and needed him and wanted to be with him always.

Then, without warning, he broke from her and stalked back to his horse. He mounted, flicked the reins, and nudged the horse forward.

Helplessness seeped through her—the same she’d felt whenever she visited Dawson. All she could do was watch Nicholas ride away. She had no power or ability to do anything else.

She willed him to turn around one last time and say good-bye. But he bent his head, kicked his heels into his steed, anddisappeared into the forest. Within seconds, the woodland was still and silent, only the leaves whispering in the breeze.

Heaving a sigh of finality, she turned and gazed at the village. It was like a picture from a history textbook: quaint, simple, and pretty in the morning sunlight. The people were busy and didn’t seem to be paying her attention.

What would she do here? Without Nicholas?

With heavy steps she made her way to the cottage. As she let herself in and closed the door behind her, the barrenness of the dim, dank room made her chest ache with a strange need to cry. This wasn’t home without Nicholas.

She had nothing to do and nowhere to go. She couldn’t flip on the TV to escape her sorrows in a crime show. She couldn’t wander mindlessly on the internet, reading news and local crime reports. Not that she did those things all that often anyway. What she really wanted was to lose herself in a tough CrossFit workout. Or delve headfirst into a difficult new case.

Suddenly her whole body felt weighted down, and exhaustion swept over her. She’d gotten very little sleep over the past few days. Maybe she’d return to bed, curl up, and escape into oblivion through slumber.

That’s what she’d do. And maybe when she woke up, she’d find this was all a dream.

She kicked off her combat boots and slipped off her belt. As she climbed onto the thin mattress and closed her eyes, her mind filled with the memory of Nicholas shedding his garments and then sliding into bed with her on their wedding night. His presence would have overpowered her in a king-size bed. But in a wooden bed box that was not much bigger than a single size, he’d been much too near. Even when he’d flopped onto the blanket on the floor the past couple of nights, his presence had been comforting, even exciting.

She drew the blanket around her more securely. She’d give anything to have his nearness now. Just one more day. Maybe one more night.

But would one ever be enough? Or would she be constantly wishing for more time with him?

In spite of her aching heart, she somehow fell asleep. The sound of footsteps in the room woke her, and she held herself motionless. Even with her eyes still closed, she could sense the daylight pouring into the cottage and guessed she’d slept for a couple of hours at most.

The steps approached the bed, and she inched her hand toward her leg and the knife in her boot only to remember she’d taken her boots off.

As the presence hovered near, she caught a whiff of onions and allowed herself to relax. It was just Beatrice. The woman had probably come to check on her and see how she was doing now that Nicholas was gone.

But at the moment, Sybil didn’t want to talk to anyone. Her heart ached too much, and she didn’t have the energy to hide it.

Beatrice breathed heavily above her for several more moments, then she turned and crossed the room with firm steps. When the door clicked closed, Sybil released a sigh.

What was she doing here wallowing in a drafty cottage in the middle of the Weald in the year 1382? She needed to get up and start sorting out how to find holy water before she died either in the present or the past. Because once she died in one era, according to Harrison the body would also soon die in the other time period—unless she ingested holy water at just the right time to stave off death.

It was complicated, and the fact was, her chances of surviving this trip were slim. She could understand now why there were no records of people time traveling. They didn’t live to talk about it. Those who did, like Harrison and Ellen, had barely survived.

The real question was—did she want to return to the present, or did she want to stay in the past?

Of course, she didn’t want to leave Nicholas, didn’t want to cause him grief again. His plea for her to be here waiting for him had been laden with the heartache of already having lost one woman and fearing to lose another.

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