"But—"
He shook his head. "I know there's a paradox involved. I used to feel the discomfort of living with that paradox in regard to you. You were both alive to me and not. I had to force myself to choose which reality I wanted . .. which reality felt more tangible to me . .
. more right. Which one I wanted the most."
She swallowed with difficulty. "Are you saying that it's necessary to believe that my father is still alive, that this house still exists just as I recall it over a hundred years ago?"
He wiped the tears from her other cheek carefully. Hope could sense him deliberating on how to choose his words. "What I think I'm saying, honey, is that it's a possibility.
Someday, just like I did, you'll have to decide which possibility is your reality."
She stifled a sob of anguish.
"But that day isn't today, Hope. For now, we're here together."
She stared into his eyes, feeling like she soaked up some of the courage he offered her.
"We don't know enough about the mirror that remains. I'm just telling you this because
..."
"You don't want to see me give up hope. I understand, Ryan. Thank you."
He just watched her silently. Hope became preternaturally aware of every point on her body where they touched; how his chest brushed against the tips of her breasts when he inhaled.
"I'm looking forward to learning more about your world," she whispered.
"Do you want to go out right now? See the city?"
"It's dark out now. Perhaps ... we could wait until morning?"
"If that's what you'd like."
She studied him from beneath her lowered lashes. "I slept all day. I'm not at all tired yet.
What will we do?"
"We could watch television."
"What's television?" She looked over to where he nodded. She saw a rectangular electrical device with a pane of opaque glass. It was the first time she'd noticed it because Ryan had draped the coat given to him by one of Addie Sampson's men on top of it.
"It's like a radio with pictures."
"I don't understand."
His eyelids narrowed as he studied her. "It's sort of hard to explain. You might just have to see it. That little box over there could tell you a lot about the early twenty-first century, but it might be misleading as well. Maybe it'd be best if you started out by reading newspapers."
Hope bit her lower lip indecisively. She knew what she wanted to do and it wasn't along the lines of reading newspapers.
"I was thinking perhaps we could get to know one another better."
"If it's something you're feeling up to," Ryan muttered gruffly. Her heartbeat skipped into overtime when his magnificent eyes lowered once again to her lips and his nostrils flared slightly. Beneath her layers of clothing she felt the tension grow in his body and the stiffening of his member along her hip.
He remained unmoving, however, and Hope found herself uncertain as to how to proceed. She stared fixedly at his firm, sensual mouth and realized he looked unblinkingly at the same place on her anatomy.
She leaned down and softly placed her mouth on his, fitting her lower lip into the closed seam. Her eyes fluttered closed. She turned her head just a tad, letting their textures rub together, luxuriating in the pleasurable sensations that coursed through her body. They molded their mouths together, discovering textures. After a spellbound moment Hope realized he didn't breathe as she learned the nuances of his lips with her own.
She shyly slid the tip of her tongue between his lips and his hold on her tightened.