OnlyYou Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Only You

  ISBN 9781419914843

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Only You Copyright © 2008 Laura Glenn

  Edited by Helen Woodall.

  Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.

  Electronic book Publication February 2008

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Only You

  Laura Glenn

  Dedication

  For my husband and best friend whose support has helped me to become who I am today.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Calvin Klein: Calvin Klein Trademark Trust

  GQ: Advance Magazine Publishers Inc.

  Timberlands: The Timberland Company

  Chapter One

  “Five minutes until closing.”

  Kaitlyn McCann raised her head and smiled her thanks as the elderly librarian glided past her to place a book on the shelves behind her. Glancing down at the open book on the table, Kaitlyn quickly scanned the passage and sighed in annoyance. Once again, it was a reference to a Captain Gabriel O’Connor who served under George Washington during the Revolutionary War. Unfortunately, whoever recorded the information once again neglected to mention his younger sister, Eileen.

  Eileen O’Connor, one out of a handful of women Kaitlyn was researching for her doctoral thesis in early American history, often defied convention and dressed as a man in order to spy on British troops during the latter half of the war. Several times, from the tender age of fourteen to seventeen, this remarkable young woman seemed to have single-handedly saved entire Colonial regiments from utter annihilation by providing them with vital pieces of information on their enemy’s movements and plans.

  However historians and record-keepers during the century following the close of the war typically only bothered to mention Eileen’s older brother, Gabriel. An upstanding citizen of the Pennsylvania colony who had quickly risen in the ranks of General Washington’s army, Gabriel O’Connor could be considered the poster boy for the “American Dream”. Born into a poor Irish-Catholic farming family, he and his family worked and saved for many years to send him to the University of Paris. After studying law, he became a lawyer and returned to Ireland, eventually earning enough money for passage to the colonies for his family. Once in Pennsylvania, he built a successful law practice, supplementing his family’s income with the produce from his farm.

  The book in Kaitlyn’s hands didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know, including the fact that Gabriel married a woman from Pennsylvania with the last name of Macan. Most sources recorded her first name as Katie, but all of them agreed that she seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

  The similarity of Kaitlyn’s name to this woman’s was not lost on her—especially after finding out that the woman’s father was a history professor with the first name of Jonathan. Kaitlyn’s father, also named Jonathan, taught history at several universities throughout New England and the Midwest until finally gaining tenure at the University of Wisconsin in Madison just as Kaitlyn turned thirteen years old.

  Jonathan McCann had wanted his daughter to follow in his footsteps and he got his way, pushing Kaitlyn at every opportunity to excel in her studies. He sparked her interest in history and Kaitlyn had been more than willing to win her father’s approval, especially since he was her only close family member after her mother died while Kaitlyn was still a child.

  Kaitlyn glanced at her watch. It was nearly nine o’clock. She had spent over six hours hunched over her laptop. Yawning, she closed the volume in front of her and stretched her arms up over her head. As she slumped back down into the chair she sighed, staring at the mess of papers and books strewn out on the dented pine table before her. She had prepared for this moment for eight years and now her brain was threatening to snap if she attempted to shove one more fact into it.

  Well, tonight anyway. The library opened at eight o’clock the next morning and, after a creamy latte from the coffee shop next door, she was certain that she would be ready to dive back into her dissertation research. Stuffing her notes and computer into her black canvas messenger bag, she took a quick inventory of the books on the table and made a mental note of those she had not had time to scan.

  She carried the pile of books up to the front of the library and quietly set them upon the librarian’s desk. Giving the elderly woman a small, shy smile, she said goodbye before pushing open the creaky, oak door and walking out into the cool, damp air. The musty smell of old books gave way to the scent of damp earth and she gratefully filled her lungs with the cool, slightly humid early spring air. It had been too long since she was last in New England.

  Her stomach began to growl and she glanced up and down the street, hoping to spot a place still open for dinner. The street was lined with charming souvenir and gift shops, all sporting brick facades and old lampposts reminiscent of Colonial-style lanterns but not a single café or restaurant appeared to be open this late in the evening.

  Kaitlyn buttoned her chocolate-brown, corduroy jacket and shivered as the cold wind threatened to blow through her. Glancing to her right, she almost gave up hope of finding something to quell her hunger when she noticed a soft light spilling onto the street just a couple of blocks away.

  Hoping to find a restaurant in the lit building, she quickly spun around as visions of a bowl of steaming clam chowder and a strong cup of tea filled her head. As she walked along the cobblestones of the deserted sidewalk, a misty rain began falling upon her. She quickened her pace, noticing the fog rolling in from the hills to the north of town.

  Eerie laughter sounded behind her and she stopped, turning toward the sound.

  The street behind her was empty. She shook her head and quickened her pace, ignoring the shiver running up her spine. However, the laughter seemed to follow her. Every few seconds she would glance over her shoulder, just to make certain she hadn’t missed a group of people somewhere behind her. But each time she was met with increasingly thick fog and not a soul to be seen.

  Kaitlyn pulled the collar of her jacket over her neck with one hand as the damp air began to permeate her clothing. The fog surrounded her, slowly shrouding the lights she was heading toward. Her shoulders tensed as the laughter began pounding in her ears.

  Suddenly she was surrounded by light gray mist, as though she was deep in the middle of a cloud. The moist air condensed on her skin and chilled her to the bone as the cold, northerly wind picked up speed. Her heart hammered erratically
against her chest. She stopped and frantically looked around, seeing nothing but the dense fog all around her.

  She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves as the little hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight. It was only a fog after all. With the way the wind was blowing, she was certain that it would move the mist out in no time at all.

  Her gut began to tell her to keep walking. Not one to argue with instinct, she plowed forward, her eyes desperately searching for lights through the thick mist. She silently prayed that she wouldn’t accidentally wander out into the path of an oncoming vehicle.

  An eerie roaring wind began somewhere behind her and rushed toward her ears. She whipped around in a panic and the shoulder strap of her bag, which contained her whole life, slipped down her arm, landing somewhere around her feet.

  Kaitlyn stopped to grab it when the fog and roaring wind began to fade.

  A full moon hung over the hills in the distance, effectively illuminating the disturbing changes in the scenery around her. Only a couple of wooden buildings stood in front of her and the cobblestones on the street had disappeared, revealing a simple dirt road beneath her feet with her messenger bag disappointingly nowhere in sight.

  Slowly, the fog began to fade. She could distinguish the outlines of buildings but the lights were gone. Her shoulders began to slump as the thought that her meal of chowder and tea seemed less likely with every step she took.

  The laughter increased in its intensity and Kaitlyn whipped around again, her mind whirling in confusion. Her eyes landed upon four men stumbling along the road about twenty-five feet behind her.

  Strangely, it wasn’t their sudden, unexplainable appearance that struck her the most—it was the fact that they looked as though they had just stepped out of an eighteenth-century painting.

  She stopped for a moment, tilting her head in confusion as the unexpected change in her surroundings fully hit her. What had just happened? She was supposed to be in Stockton, Massachusetts but this place looked nothing like that town.

  Where the hell am I?

  “Well, look what we have here!” one of the men shouted in a thick, British accent as all four came to a stop about twenty feet away from her. He straightened his red coat and smoothed back the hair attempting to escape from the ponytail at the nape of his neck.

  Another man leaned forward, wobbling slightly in his scuffed, black boots. He appeared to be squinting his eyes and staring at Kaitlyn. “Is that a man?”

  “He sure is pretty, if he is,” another slurred, slapping his knee through his dirty, beige breeches in delight.

  All four began laughing once again and Kaitlyn arched one eyebrow, slightly amused. Who were these men? Were they hired by the local tourism board to play characters for the amusement of visitors? If so, they certainly were working at an odd hour of the day.

  “Come here, good sir!” one of the men called out to her while simultaneously making a lewd gesture. “Let us see if you be man or woman!”

  Perhaps it was the fact that one of the guys just grabbed his crotch but something told her that no tourism board hired these men. Kaitlyn’s stomach knotted in fear and she whirled around, sprinting toward the thick patch of trees in the distance. She could hear the men shouting and starting to pick up the chase, their feet rhythmically slapping the packed earth of the street.

  Unused to such strenuous physical exertion, Kaitlyn gasped as the cool night air burned her lungs. She hadn’t prayed since she was a child, but now nothing other than silent pleas for help whirled through her confused mind.

  From seemingly out of nowhere, a large, black horse skidded to a halt only a couple of feet away. She gasped at the animal’s sudden appearance, her eyes quickly traveling up to the rider looming over her with an outstretched hand. Her breathing immediately slowed as their eyes met and a surreal calm fell over her panicked mind. She straightened her back as all thoughts of retrieving her messenger bag fell from her mind.

  Her eyes traveled down his surprisingly massive body for a split second, noticing how he was dressed similarly to the other men. However, his coat was a deep, midnight blue and his breeches stretched tightly over his solid thighs, neatly outlining every muscle in his legs.

  The sound of the men behind her immediately snapped her back to reality and her eyes darted toward the mysterious stranger’s face. His eyes looked nearly black in the darkness as they fixed themselves upon hers, causing her stomach to flutter.

  He arched his dark eyebrows and extended his arm further toward her. She glanced over her shoulder, noticing the drunken men closing in and then grabbed the man’s hand, praying that she wasn’t getting herself into a worse situation by allowing some stranger to carry her off on a horse.

  He yanked her up with one hand and grasped her waist with the other, effortlessly settling her on his lap. Kaitlyn’s heart leapt into her throat as she wrapped her arms around the stranger’s neck and held on for dear life.

  Within seconds, they were galloping into the forest and the men’s slurred shouts faded into the distance. She raised her head to look at her rescuer, finding his face only a breath away from her own. A square jaw neatly framed his striking, yet classically handsome features, including a hawklike nose and angular cheekbones. Compelling, dark eyes stared back at her with a gleam of interest.

  He gently slipped one arm around her waist. “Are you all right, madam?” he asked in an obvious Irish brogue, his voice deep and as smooth as silk.

  She nodded, feeling her breath catch in her throat. She couldn’t be certain but she was fairly sure that her mouth had dropped open in shock at finding herself in the arms of a man who could rival Adonis himself.

  Kaitlyn’s pulse thudded loudly in her ears as she momentarily froze. Certain that the man was probably too polite to mention how she was still hanging onto his neck, she quickly pulled her arms away and shyly cast her eyes toward the horse’s thick, black mane.

  Much to her confusion, the man pulled her closer, plastering her side against his chest and resting his large hand upon her hip. She jumped slightly, acutely aware of the heat pulsing from his palm and into her body. The tingling warmth spread to her thighs and she stiffened in his arms, unused to experiencing such a quick, physical reaction to a man.

  After several minutes, Kaitlyn felt the stranger shift against her and then tilt his head toward her ear. His hot breath softly caressed her cheek. “What is your name?”

  Determined to play it cool, she swallowed hard in an attempt to dislodge the nervousness stuck in her throat. “Kaitlyn McCann.”

  “You have come to bring us information?”

  Kaitlyn paused, her eyebrows rising quizzically at the strange question.

  His voice deepened even further and grew more formal. “We were told a woman coming through Stockton was to bring us information about the movements of the British in the area. Are you the woman I am searching for?”

  British troop movements? Did she just stumble into some weird American Revolution reenactment?

  Something inside her told her to agree with his assessment of who she was and so she nodded. Uncomfortable with lying, she decided to change the subject. “Where are you taking me?” she weakly demanded. She pursed her lips together in irritation at the sound of her shaking voice.

  “We have an encampment about twenty miles from here.”

  Twenty miles? Couldn’t they just catch a cab or something?

  She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. How could a mere fog transport her to a totally different place? And why were all the men she had seen looking and acting like they were from the colonial period of American history?

  Kaitlyn stared just over the top of the horse’s head, searching for anything familiar. Highways. Signs. Lights.

  Anything.

  Unfortunately, nothing but trees and darkness met her eyes. Swallowing the despair rising in her throat, she attempted to shift her position in his arms. She sat up and moved her arm, which was pinned against his chest an
d accidentally brushed her palm against a rather hard object between the stranger’s legs.

  It took her a moment to realize just what her hand made contact with but when it finally dawned on her, heat burned her cheeks. She immediately turned toward him, simultaneously mortified and aroused. “I’m so sorry!”

  His face broke into a devastating grin and his gaze roamed lazily from her eyes to her lips and then downward, lingering briefly upon her breasts. “I do believe it is I who should be apologizing to you, madam,” he whispered.

  As if on command, her nipples puckered. Small tremors ran from Kaitlyn’s breasts to her thighs and she tilted her face up toward his, her breathing shallow as she became acutely aware of an empty ache growing between her thighs.

  The noise of the horse’s hooves fell away, replaced by the sounds of her pounding pulse and the long, deep exhalation escaping from between Gabriel’s parted lips. His fingers dug slightly into the soft flesh of her hip and she choked back the moan threatening to alert him to her arousal. An impulse to lean in and press her lips against his came over her and she instinctively pulled away, turning her head toward the front of the horse.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, attempting to distract her mind from its wandering thoughts.

  “Gabriel O’Connor.”

  Kaitlyn automatically stiffened, her blood turning to ice in her veins.

  It can’t be…

  As if he sensed her trepidation, Gabriel tightened his hold upon her and leaned down to her ear. “Do not worry, Miss McCann. You are safe with me.”

  She shook her head, insisting to herself that it must be a coincidence. After all, if this guy were the Gabriel O’Connor it would mean the fog had taken her over two hundred twenty years into the past.

  And, as everyone knew, time travel was impossible.