Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

dreams," she said with a shrug.
    Faith's countenance drooped with her shoulders.  It seemed doubtful that anything more than a bucket of milk would be shared between them.  Faith glanced down at her feet and studied the uneven slats her soles rested upon.  Her dream had been too real to be dismissed by a crotchety, old hag.  Besides being curious to know more about her time with Aidan, Faith had not hiked all the way up the hill to be told the obvious. 
    Her sister Hope may have been the master of wild tales, but Faith had been right about this person.  She was not like anyone else they had ever met, but if anyone knew the answers to her questions, it was this old crone from the ridge. 
    Frustrated, Faith looked around the yard.  She had hoped to keep private some of the details concerning her night with Aidan.  Her body tingled with the distant feel of his touch.  These memories could not have been imagined.  She shook her head and reached her decision.  She would do whatever was necessary to convince the woman to share what she knew. 
    Faith turned her head from side to side and scanned the grounds once more.  No one was nearby.  Reaching up her hands, she hurriedly unbuttoned the top of her blouse, pulled the fabric open, and leaned forward.  She shoved her breasts in front of the old woman's aloof gaze, and demanded her full attention.  "Dreams do not leave marks, especially like these."
    The gray-headed woman pressed both of her feet to the floor and stopped her swinging motion.  The extra links in the chain swung free of the main line.  Her eyes widened.  She bent forward and inspected Faith's chest as though she looked for mites among cottonseeds.  Her head began to nod and a slow smile spread across her lips.  Faith nervously held the blouse open, not sure she had made a wise decision.  In front of her, a wide-eyed gaze lifted from the mouth-sized abrasions on Faith's breasts, and up to her face.  A morbid infatuation seemed to spring the soulless depths to life.  "So you've met Mr. Valentine," the raspy voice said.
    Time and sound swirled around Faith, seeming to catch her up in it.  Her head wobbled and she tried to remain focused on the woman's leering face.  She had hoped for some insight as to what had happened to her last night.  But how did this recluse know Aidan's last name was Valentine and that he was responsible for her marks?  She had spoken his name without hesitation. 
    Motion slowed around Faith, and she pulled back as though she had been slapped in the face.  Breathing hard, she stared over at the frail body.  Weakened from what she had heard, she slumped fully in the chair.  She didn't have the strength to run.  What had the woman meant to gain from saying what she did?  Faith thought back and tried to remember if her knowledge was a coincidence. 
    When she had been a child, had she mentioned her desire to marry a man with that specific name?  From what she remembered, there had been no such conversation with anyone, much less with a stranger.  Regaining a small amount of strength, Faith lifted her arms and fastened her blouse.  Her fingers fumbled with each closure.  Once covered, she peered over at her companion.
    "You surprise me," Faith said, her mouth as dry as the cotton she had imagined the woman inspecting.  "Why did you not assume those marks were from my husband?"
    The thin feet across from her set the swing back in motion.  Slender legs lifted as the contraption glided forward.  "My dear, I thought I did."
    Faith shook her head.  "My husband's name is Hank."
    Weathered cheeks pursed worn lips, and the woman tilted her head to the side.  "For now, yes," she said.  "But not always."  She stopped her swinging abruptly, stood to her feet, and walked past Faith.  The hem of her skirt flowed against her shins.  "You should leave now.  Your husband, Hank , will wonder where you are.  You do not want to anger him.  Not yet, anyway."
    "You make no