Timeless Love (6 page)

"Easy, Lady Cathy." He soothed. "No insult was
meant."

Before she could react, he lowered his head
and brushed his lips past hers. The gentle kiss was like flint to
tinder. The sparks were real, heated, and the glint of attraction
buzzed between them. Joey raised his other hand to cup her face
then proceeded to ignite her body from her lips down to her toes.
His mouth was soft, gentle, yet demanding and skillful. This was
her first real kiss. A slobbering fumble from Lord Lampton at the
last country dance did not even come close to this all
encompassing, desirous kiss. His tongue flicked at the corner of
her mouth, how deliciously wicked.

"Open Cathy, let me in." His voice was low,
husky and rough.

She was puzzled, what did he mean? She opened
her mouth to ask him when his tongue slipped into her mouth and
began to explore and plunder, igniting her afresh. Her heart stood
still. Catherine was momentarily stunned by the warm sensation of
Joey caressing every inch of her lips and mouth but she recovered
and began to follow his movements. She curled her tongue around
his. Joey moaned and then proceeded to kiss her with even more
passion.

Her hands crept up his chest until her arms
encircled his neck. She angled her head for a deeper penetration.
Joey lowered his hands down her back then he cupped her buttocks
and brought her body against his.
Oh heavenly!
Catherine
could feel every hard, muscled contour of his long, lean body. She
was beyond propriety. Instinct had her rubbing her body against the
long hard part of him she wanted to know most
intimately.

Joey then broke the kiss and stepped back, his
hands fisting at his side.

"Babe, what did you just do to me?" His voice
was raspy.

Her hand touched her lips. They burned, they
ached, and they wanted more.

"I don't know." Her body shook with yearning.
"What did you just do to me?"

"I kissed you."

"Kiss me again, Joey," she whispered.
Catherine tried to keep the need out of her voice but it was
useless.

Joey stepped back. "We'd better not. Maybe
later." He smiled, amusement dancing in the navy blue depths of his
gorgeous eyes. He picked up the brown sack and walked into his
kitchen area.

Catherine could not move. She had been quite
thoroughly kissed.

****

Joey set the paper bag on the counter and took
several deep breaths.
Jesus
.
Her kiss
. He never
experienced such heat from a kiss. Her innocence was so sexy. Cathy
was no trembling flower. She plunged right in. When her tongue had
touched his, he thought his cock had gone up in flames.

He unpacked the bag, laying bananas, cans of
soup, cheese slices, and a few apples on the counter. Well, he
wasn't much of a cook either
.
They could have chicken noodle
soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Lady Cathy could butter the
bread at least.

Joey opened the fridge and placed the bottle
of milk inside. He had to get control of himself. His hands were
shaking. His lust was stoked so high.
Take another deep breath
then friggin' exhale
. The temptation to continue making out
with Cathy still raged, but thinking this through would be a better
plan. He had never felt this way before and never had a kiss thrown
him for such a loop. Joey opened the cupboard below and took out a
saucepan and a fry pan. Might as well get supper going.

Twenty minutes later they were sitting at the
table eating a simple meal of soup and sandwiches.

"Joey, what of your family?" Cathy asked out
of the blue.

"I don't have any."

She studied him and he made sure his face
remained passive. Joey had learned to curb his emotions when the
situation called for it and he learned the lesson the hard
way.

"No one at all?"

He sighed. "I was an orphan, the 'baby dropped
at the door in the middle of the night in a basket' type orphan. I
was left at St. Patrick's Orphanage, though it's still referred to
as the Boy's Industrial Home and it’s where I spent the first
fifteen years of my life."

Joey's lip curled at the memories. The sisters
were an eclectic mix of strict dictatorial taskmasters and kind and
compassionate educators. Growing up there wasn't a total nightmare,
but it wasn't a childhood of warm fuzzy memories either.

Cathy reached across the table, took his hand
and laced her fingers through his. He needed her comfort and her
understanding. Her kind sympathy gave him the courage to
continue.

"At fifteen I was already close to six feet
tall. The nuns decided I should be out in the working world. Before
I was shipped out, Liam McGonagall offered me an opportunity to
work for him. I took the job."

Cathy squeezed his hand. "Is he the man you
work for as a breaker of legs?"

"Yeah, I started cleaning up at his tavern on
Union Street and then worked my way up to collector. I've been
working for him about ten years. Not exactly a career I will be
getting a gold watch and a pension with." Cathy looked confused.
She had no idea what he meant. He lifted her hand and kissed it.
"Never mind. I'm a survivor if nothing else."

"Is Joey Indelli your real name?"

He lowered their hands back to the table but
he would not let go. Joey needed her touch at the
moment.

"No. The name was picked out of a hat or a
phone book. So was my birth date of June twenty-third. No one knows
where I came from or who my parents were. The name means nothing to
me."

For the last ten years he drifted, living from
one money envelope to the other. He half-heartedly tried to get on
at the oil refinery but he didn't finish high school, a real sticky
point to employers.

Joey knew he couldn't keep this kind of life
up. Cathy had mentioned she liked the Beatles song 'Nowhere Man'.
It summed him and his life up perfectly, no past, no future, and no
making plans for nobody.

He shook his head, let go of her hand, and
stood. "We should do the dishes if you're up to it."

Cathy laughed. Her feminine chuckle sent
another wave of heat straight to his prick. "I buttered the bread,
did I not?"

Chapter Six

Dishes done and put away, Catherine sat on the
couch next to Joey, very close in fact. He had opened the bottle of
the Pepsi concoction and showed her how to drink it. The Pepsi was
effervescent and tickled her nose. She liked the soda a lot, so
much so that she asked for a second bottle.

Watching Joey saunter into the kitchen was a
delicious treat. Those 'blue jeans' were skintight and hugged his
slim hips and long muscular legs. She sighed longingly. The kiss
they shared had not left her mind all through dinner or when they
washed the dishes.

Joey's childhood reminiscences filled her
thoughts. There were certainly orphans in her time. She’d heard
horror stories of unwanted babies being dropped down the copper
mine shafts. Joey must have been a very handsome boy with his
tousled black hair and dark blue eyes, why was he not adopted by a
kind and loving family? How tragic. The only father figure he had
was the ruffian that gave him a job as a breaker of
legs.

Catherine set down the empty bottle on the
table next to her. Joey was very skilled in kissing. How much
practice did he have? Joey walked back in and passed the open
bottle to her. He smiled then sat back down next to her. She took a
sip.
Lord, this tastes so good.

"Joey, how many women have you
fornicated?"

He started coughing, but soon regained
control. "Fornicated?"

"Well, what do you call the act? I am sure
there is a slang word for this as well."

Joey laughed. "Yeah, plenty of slang. There is
a word I use. It’s crude and been around since forever. I say
'fuck'."

Catherine felt her cheeks flush; she had not
heard the word before. The word was brutal and forceful but also
titillating. "Very well, how many women have you
–fucked?"

He gazed at her, shock on his face. "You never
cease to surprise me, Lady Cathy. Let's just say
enough."

"More than two dozen?"

She should not be talking about something so
embarrassing and personal, but she wanted to know more about Joey.
From the expertise of his kiss, she assumed he fucked many women.
Oh, that word.
A chill of excitement curved along her
spine.

He turned to face her, his hand gripping his
soda bottle tight. He seemed annoyed.

"Yeah, more than two dozen. I don't keep
count."

A soft whistle escaped her lips. "My heavens,
Joey, you are an honest to goodness rake."

His eyebrows knotted in confusion. "What in
hell is a rake?"

"It is short for rakehell, a womanizer with
low morals. Rakes usually gamble and drink and– fuck to excess.
They haunt the many gaming hells in the larger cities of England.
However, even though I have only known you a short time, I would
say only the womanizing part pertains to you."

"If you keep saying the word 'fuck', Lady
Cathy, I may have to show you just what it means." His tone was
husky and sensual.

Oh heavens, how did their
conversation turn so –naughty? She would never say or think these
things home, or did Joey awaken her inner wanton?

Catherine ran a finger down his chest and the
muscles clenched through his shirt at her touch. She reached his
waist and then let her finger brush ever so slightly by his obvious
hardness.

"And what is the word for this very hard part
of you?" She did not recognize her own voice. Who knew a wicked
minx lived inside her?

"This dirty talk is getting me hot, Cathy. You
want to know? It's a cock." He took a drink from his
bottle.

Cock?
"I overheard a few young men
talking at a recent gathering. They said 'their cocks rise in the
morning'. I thought they were talking about barnyard poultry."
Catherine smiled knowingly while her finger continued to traverse
his muscled torso.

Joey sprayed a fine mist of Pepsi out of his
mouth. Then he began to laugh, long, deep and heartily. He set down
his bottle then gathered her close and kissed her on the
forehead.

"Thank you, I haven't laughed like that in–
well, forever. You're adorable."

She flushed in pleasure at his words. She laid
her head on his chest and placed her hand over his heart. The beat
pounded as fast as hers. He laid his cheek on the top of her
head.

"It's a different time, Cathy. Things are
looser, free love and stuff. I lost my virginity at sixteen and
have been 'fornicating' ever since. Maybe I'm a rake when it comes
to women, but I never took advantage of an innocent and I won't be
taking advantage of you."

A surge of disappointment hit her. Perhaps she
wanted him to take advantage. Catherine couldn't deny being held
close to his heart was vastly appealing. Her hand explored under
his shirt and she absently played with his chest hair while
snuggling closer in the heated warmth of Joey's embrace. After a
few moments' silence, Joey spoke. "The carriage is still in the
mill. One thing I noticed there is no trunks or luggage, do you
know what happened to them?"

Well.
She sat up straight. "They were
not taken since yesterday?" It had not even crossed her mind that
the trunks were missing and there had been others on top of the
carriage with hers.

"No, thinking back when the carriage first
appeared, I don't think they were ever there. Why is the carriage
still here do you think?"

Joey had been giving this time travel
situation a good deal of thought.

"I have a theory. I did not tell you this but
I was traveling in a violent storm with three men when the carriage
was struck by lightning. We splintered off I believe, it felt as if
I were floating. However, I observed one of the occupants, Mr.
Ross, was still in the carriage. He went in a different direction.
Then everything went black. The next time I opened I eyes I was in
the carriage and heading toward a swirl of light, strange voices
and noises all around me."

"Far out, it means 'amazing'. So you think Mr.
Ross went wherever and then the carriage came for you."

"Or one of the other men, who knows? Joey,
perhaps the carriage is enchanted. If time travel is possible,
could not magic be?" Her voice grew more excited, she was pleased
Joey listened and did not dismiss her theories. "I think another
strike of lightning will propel the carriage and anyone inside back
where it came from! The carriage is waiting for a trigger if you
will."

Joey looked off, picked up the bottle, and
took a couple of deep gulps.

"Let's say you're right, who's to say the
carriage will go back to 1821? Or even to Cornwall? You could wind
up in any era or any place in the world."

Catherine frowned.
Yes, entirely
possible.
"I cannot explain it but I firmly believe the
carriage will go back to Cornwall. If the carriage is struck by
lightning and no one is inside, perhaps the coach goes to the next
person trapped in time. I do not know what to think,
truly."