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  “What…?” Webb breathed.

  Samantha grasped his father’s hand. “You’ll understand soon.”

  Ryder’s heart was torn between grief and hope, between loss and resounding joy. He held his father tightly and could not give voice to the tumult of his emotions. Samantha wrapped an arm around his shoulders and silently held Webb’s hand. It was exactly what he needed.

  His father stiffened and called his name. Breathing was growing more and more difficult for him. It wouldn’t be long. He had to say it now.

  “Father, I—I forgive you.” Samantha’s arm tightened around him.

  Webb eased just a little. Another tear fell. “Thank you,” he sighed.

  A couple of minutes passed, but no more was said. His chest stopped moving. His body went limp. Ryder’s grief might have overwhelmed him had Samantha not been there.

  Phillip knelt and put his hand on Ryder’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

  “I as well,” Ryder croaked. “About William.”

  Phillip squeezed his arm. “I had to stop him.” His brother then left him to tend to his own father.

  Ryder wasn’t sure how many minutes passed, but he was loath to move. He stared at the locket sitting on Webb’s still chest and prayed his father found joy in another time. Samantha’s thumb stroked the back of Webb’s hand and her expression was as earnest as his own. Did she pray as well?

  “Let’s take him back to the wagon,” she softly suggested.

  He nodded.

  When Sam, Ryder and Phillip returned to the cart with Webb’s and William’s bodies, they found Kelter glancing around in search of them. Sam watched with an aching heart as Ryder attempted to explain what happened, and Kelter was wise enough not to press him for more than the bare minimum of information.

  Kelter volunteered to distribute the contents of the cart across the rest of the caravan so that Ryder and Phillip could take their fathers to Poole, and he had good news to report when he returned. The dragoons had been outnumbered ten to one. The only casualties were a couple of flesh wounds from gunshots, a broken arm and plenty of bruises. As a consolation prize and to incite no further pursuit, the farmers left behind a few barrels of brandy.

  It wasn’t long until they reached Christchurch, where they took shelter from the fallout while the local undertaker tended the bodies. It was decided on the way that they’d tell any interested authorities as much truth as possible about their fathers’ deaths, that William and Webb shot each other in a duel over the secret of Ryder’s birth and the murder of his mother. It was also decided that William should be buried next to his first wife and Webb next to Ryder’s mother.

  Sam waited alone in their room at a local inn for Ryder to return from the undertaker. Her throat still burned terribly but she didn’t want to drink any more beer. She was drunk enough as it was, and though she wouldn’t change her mind if she had the chance, she was still reeling over her choice to remain in Ryder’s time. Drinking more wouldn’t likely put her mind in the right place.

  Whenever she pressed her hand to her aching throat, she missed her locket, not because she wanted it back but because she had worn it nonstop for so long. Its absence was both relieving and unsettling. As unpleasant as its guidance usually was, it had been comforting to know that something had a plan for her. Now that she was in uncharted waters, she struggled with the notion that this was her new normal, that her old life was gone forever.

  The anxiety-and-excitement cocktail was nauseating, though maybe that was just the beer’s fault. It wasn’t particularly good.

  When sunset drew near, Sam closed the shutters over the windows to block out the lurid, rusty light and lit a candle. It took a couple of tries but she was getting better at using a tinderbox. How long until matches were invented?

  Such questions stirred up that nauseating cocktail but she resisted the temptation to down more beer.

  A knock sounded and she stood with relief. She wove her way to the door and threw the lock.

  “You should ask who it is first,” Ryder said teasingly as he came inside.

  “I knew it was you.”

  “Oh is that beer?” He was smiling as he went to the table and her half-full glass, but his shoulders sagged and his eyes were red—whether from grief or exposure to the fallout was hard to say. He winced after his first gulp and stared at the beer contemptuously. “This is terrible.”

  “What did the undertaker say?”

  He set down the beer with a sigh. “I’ll call for dinner and higher-quality libation. Would you prefer chicken or beef, my love?”

  “Ryder,” she said softly.

  He worried his lips and stared down at the table with arms akimbo. “He’ll be ready by morning. I also arranged transportation for his…coffin.” He rubbed the back of his neck and she saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. She went to him and pulled him into a hug.

  “How’s Phillip?”

  “Worse than me, I expect. He’s staying down the hall and offered to send a letter ahead of us to my mother’s parents in Poole.” His voice gained an edge. “He kept apologizing.”

  Oh Jesus. She held him tighter. “We’ll help him, Ryder. We’ll be here for him.”

  Phillip was surely partaking of the inn’s beer no matter its quality, anything to escape the knowledge that he had killed his own father.

  Ryder took a deep breath and she felt him relax. “How are you?” he asked.

  She hadn’t expected him to ask after the loss he suffered and had no idea what to say. How could she put into words how she was feeling? Would he understand “scared shitless but otherwise fine and dandy”? When she didn’t answer, he pulled back from their embrace and cupped her cheek.

  “Samantha, I…cannot truly understand all that you have given up. If you’d like me to understand, I’m eager to listen.”

  She shrugged. “That’s just it. I don’t think I fully grasp everything I just gave up. I’ve been sitting here all afternoon thinking about it.”

  Ryder held his breath for a few seconds. His next words came out as a whisper. “Do you regret your decision?”

  “I kept wondering how it would’ve felt if I had gone back. I’d wake up in my apartment. I’d call the police about Brian. I might hear from some of my old friends from school and maybe I’d have to close the shop. After that, I’d go back to school and try to piece my life together…but the whole time, I’d be remembering you and wishing I had been brave enough to do what I wanted, what I deserved.”

  She didn’t realize she was crying until his thumb brushed away a tear on her cheek.

  “Then I started thinking about what’s next.” She laughed. “I don’t know. It’s scary not knowing, but the more I thought about life with you, the more excited I felt. It won’t be easy but I had to follow my heart, so no, I don’t regret it.”

  His expression was consuming. “I want to make love to you,” he said hoarsely. That got her heart rate up. He pulled her closer. “Please.”

  She nodded and he lowered his head to kiss her. She expected an explosion of passion but he was tender. He coaxed her lips apart, teased her lower lip with his tongue, delved languidly into her mouth. His hand rubbed in a circle against her lower back while the other cradled her head. Her heart thudded loudly but steadily. She laid her hand on his chest and felt the rapid beating of his heart.

  He was holding back.

  Several minutes passed and she was so aroused that she squirmed where she stood. She gasped when he pulled apart the first knot of her bodice’s laces, not because she was surprised but because she was aching to go further, faster.

  Ryder had other plans. He eased the laces open with care, as though it was their first time together. When the bodice was loose enough, he swept his hands down the curves of her waist and the dress slipped to the floor. Then the game started again with the laces of her corset. When she was left with nothing but her shift and stockings, he lifted her out of the pile of cloth and carried her to the bed.

  S
he sat on the edge, biting her lip as he undressed for her. She made a noise when he shed his vest. His hard shoulders rolled as he did it and she couldn’t wait to dig her nails into that muscled flesh. He then tugged his shirt over his head, leaving him in nothing but his breeches, which left no doubt that he was as eager as his heartbeat implied. Those blue eyes watched her closely when he opened the fore-flap and dropped the breeches past his narrow hips.

  His cock was thick and hard. She couldn’t hold back a needy moan and started squirming again. He stepped close and held out his hand to help her stand. He pushed her chemise up. She lifted her arms. The garment landed somewhere behind him and his arms were around her again. He was so warm. His erection brushed her stomach and her breasts were pulled tight against his wide chest. His heart was pounding.

  She parted her lips for him, falling into that heady swirl of hormones as they kissed and caressed and moaned. He filled his hands with the flesh of her backside. When one of his hands slipped down to the back of her thigh, then between her legs, almost touching her sopping core, she nearly climaxed right there.

  He lifted her and laid her on the bed. She opened her legs wide, which finally got a noise from him, a growl from deep in his chest. He didn’t come to her though. She saw his hands were shaking.

  “I…don’t know how long I…”

  “Me too,” she whispered. “I need you.”

  He was on her and it was only a quick adjustment before he was pushing inside her. One pump of his hips and she was leaving marks in his shoulders with her nails. Another and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  “I…can’t…” he groaned.

  She almost asked him what was wrong, but then his control snapped and she understood just what he was restraining. He buried his face in her hair, and he went hard and fast. An orgasm immediately lit her up.

  He followed a few seconds later and she held him tight as he shook with ecstasy over her.

  When he rolled to his side, he pulled her with him and they lay for a moment in silence to catch their breath. Sam smiled.

  “I’m glad I could please you,” Ryder said with a chuckle.

  “No, I—well yes, you definitely did—but I was just thinking that we’ll get to do a lot of that.”

  Ryder practically purred. “We have many hours left in the evening.”

  “But I’m hungry.”

  “I would be honored to feed you, my love, and you must tell me about this…geological event—the volcano. It’s all the townsfolk can talk about.”

  “Be ready to have your mind blown.”

  Ryder laughed and Sam knew for the hundredth time that she had made the right choice. Forging a new life was frightening, but when she looked at Ryder, she also felt immense hope. Her old life dimmed in comparison to the bright future she faced with him.

  * * * * *

  The grave of Ryder’s mother was well tended by his grandparents, who still lived in Poole. Ryder did not conceal the truth of how his mother died or the identity of his real father. He asked that Henry Webb be buried next to her and they wept as they gave their consent.

  The funeral didn’t last long, for the air was still thick with what Samantha had described as fallout. His mother’s parents invited everyone to their home for dinner and as the attendees dispersed, he lingered by the fresh grave. Samantha stayed by his side.

  He nearly couldn’t believe the miracle of her love. When they had stayed at the inn in Christchurch two nights previous, he had been at a loss for words to express his utter joy. His body expressed it for him, worshipping her and atoning for their first night together when he had taken her virginity with far less reverence than she deserved.

  “I wonder what the purpose of the locket is,” he mused. “It brought you to me and I shall be forever grateful, but…”

  “You’re worried about your father,” she said quietly. He nodded. When they had brought Webb’s body to the undertaker, Ryder asked that the locket be buried with his father, but when they returned for his coffin the next morning, the undertaker insisted he didn’t find a locket. It was assumed that it had been lost on the journey to Christchurch, but Ryder and Samantha had another theory.

  “I think the locket gives a second chance at life and love,” she said.

  “Then you think he’s alive somewhere?”

  “I do.” She held his hand tightly.

  “Will he be happy there, I wonder.”

  “He’ll find happiness, just like I have.” She smiled and her eyes were full of love.

  Ryder turned to her, feeling tall. He laid his hand against her cheek. They shared a kiss and his heart was so full it ached. He then offered his arm and she took his elbow. As they walked back to the hackney, he grinned.

  “What?” she asked with a confused smile.

  “I wonder if Kelter ever got his kiss from MacKenzie.” They both laughed, and Ryder realized the locket indeed gave a second chance at life and love—and not just for the one who wore it.

  About Ruby Duvall

  Ruby Duvall is an avid reader of many romance and erotica genres, but her favorites are fantasy and paranormal. She also enjoys movies, RPGs and maybe a little shopping too. She currently lives in Washington.

  Ruby welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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  Also by Ruby Duvall

  Blues

  Caught in the Devil’s Hand

  Oblivion

  Pink Present

  Stay With Me

  Print books by Ruby Duvall

  Blues

  Caught in the Devil’s Hand

  Oblivion

  Stay With Me

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

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  Escape With Me

  ISBN 9781419944833

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  Escape With Me Copyright © 2013 Ruby Duvall

  Edited by Grace Bradley

  Photography and cover design by Syneca

  Additional Photo: Terri Francis/Shutterstock.com

  Models: Austin and Miss Taylor

  Electronic book Publication March 2013

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