Jordan (40 page)

Three months later

C
amelot’s graceful walls rose into a blue sky, and Arthur once again rode out, then escorted Vivianne and Jordan into his home.
He and Lady Guinevere made them welcome at his feast-laden dining table. Lancelot was away on a spiritual retreat but hoped
to return soon. George curled up under the table, where he knew Jordan and Vivianne would sneak him scraps.

“To good friends.” Arthur lifted his cup and drank his wine.

Jordan, Vivianne, and Guinevere followed suit. Jordan raised his wine in another toast. “To success.”

Vivianne clinked hers with Guinevere. “To love.”

“And family,” Guinevere agreed. “I hope you know we consider you part of ours.”

“Speaking of family”—Arthur lowered his voice—“I can’t thank you enough for ending Trendonis’s tyranny.”

“He was your father?” Jordan asked, his tone gentle.

“Yes.” Arthur hung his head.

Guinevere patted his hand. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You did not pick him to give you life. And you did everything
you could to stop him. You are honorable and good.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Jordan lifted his glass.

Arthur raised his head, then clapped Jordan on the back. “You deserve the truth.” Arthur cleared his throat. “My father was
born under a power-hungry star. And coveting the power of a dragonshaper, he roamed the galaxy until he stopped on Pendragon.
Centuries ago, he mated with a dragonshaper. I was born of that union.”

“And you were supposed to follow your father’s path,” Vivianne guessed.

“Exactly.” Arthur’s eyes burned with fire. “Uther was very disappointed when his methods of domination disgusted me. He had
a sickness inside him. And over the centuries it grew worse. The more worlds he conquered, the more evil he became. That’s
why I gathered the knights on Earth to stop him.” Arthur clasped Jordan’s forearm. “Thank you for finishing what I could not.”

“Thanking you for saving him from patricide,” Guinevere added.

“After the worlds he destroyed, the people he murdered, you’d think I wouldn’t care if he died by my own hand…”

But clearly Arthur’s heart was torn, and Vivianne was grateful that he did not have to live with his father’s death on his
conscience.

Guinevere glanced at Vivianne’s engagement ring and changed the subject. “I’m sorry we’ll miss your wedding, but Arthur, Lancelot,
and I wanted you to have this gift.”

With a shy smile, Lady Guinevere handed Vivianne a lacquered box, embedded with gemstones so rare that Vivianne couldn’t identify
many of them. Firestones that seemed to capture starlight flickered among opals, aquamarines, and rubies. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Open it.” Arthur poured more wine.

Hands shaking, Vivianne carefully opened the box. Inside was an obviously very ancient scroll. The parchment appeared too
delicate to touch. “What is it?”

Arthur grinned. “A legend is written on one side. There’s an ancient star map on the other.”

Jordan watched Vivianne with warmth and curiosity. “What’s the legend say?”

“No one knows. The language is ancient, and we haven’t been able to translate it. But my best scientists believe the map is
as old as the Holy Grail.”

Vivianne carefully closed the box to protect the ancient scroll. “Thank you.”

Are you ready to soar off on another adventure, dear?
she asked.

Every night is an adventure with you,
shari-ki
love.

Vivianne hoped her host and hostess wouldn’t see the blush rising up her neck. Jordan was a most inventive and creative lover.
And the pleasure he gave her kept her a very happy woman.

Wait and see what I have planned for you tonight,
she teased back and sent him a mental picture.

Jordan shifted in his chair. Even as she felt the blood tightening in his groin, she could feel his desire flaming to the
surface. And coating that desire was a love as strong as the man himself. A love that would keep burning brightly. A love
that was so much a part of her that she could no longer tell where her emotions began and his ended.

Vivianne smiled at her handsome husband. She had no idea if they were going back to Earth. Or off to follow the treasure map.
But one thing she knew for certain. Wherever they went next, they would be together.

For always and eternity,
Jordan promised.

He was reading her mind again. And wickedly, she shot him another image of what she intended to do once they were alone.

Two can play this game,
he warned.

Vivianne almost choked on her wine. And then she laughed happily. Life with Jordan would be long… and it certainly would never
be dull.

Life is a gift that is wasted if not lived to the fullest.

—K
ING
A
RTHUR
P
ENDRAGON

D
on’t open your eyes,” Jordan told her as he carried Vivianne, “or you’ll spoil my surprise.”

Vivianne snuggled against his chest. “You’ve been so secretive. I don’t even know where in the galaxy you’ve taken me.”

“Angleterre.”

“Never heard of it.”

“That’s because Angleterre isn’t on any star map.” He kept walking, and she heard George padding beside them. Lifting her
head for a clue, she smelled salt and flowers, heard the sounds of waves rolling ashore, felt the tension in his arms as he
gently set her down onto her feet in soft grass.

Jordan placed his hands on her hips and angled her slightly. A warm breeze bathed her face. Sunlight heated her skin. And
birds chirped in song.

“Now? Can I open my eyes now?”

“Yes.”

Vivianne opened her eyes and gasped. The most perfectly proportioned house perched on a grassy hilltop overlooking a turquoise
sea. The gentle slope of the palm-frond-shaded roof suggested a cozy invitation to proceed up the stone path edged with wild
ferns and blooming lilies.

“What is this place?” she asked, spying a hammock tied between two palms and instantly feeling at peace.

“Come look.” He took her hand and led her up the walkway. “Angleterre has four seasons, mild winters, warm summers.”

She gasped, recognizing the soaring ceilings, the wide expanses of glass, and the exotic proportions. “You had my favorite
architect design this house.”

They walked through the beveled front doors. The living area only had three walls. The back was open to the stunning seascape
and a pink sand beach but could be closed for cooler weather. Jordan had even decorated the home in her favorite blush and
apricot color scheme.

“This house is lovely.” She twirled around, eyes wide. He’d bought paintings from her favorite artists, picked out sleek contemporary
furniture that she loved and mixed it with rich mahogany pieces. The effect was inviting. Warm. Stunning.

“There’s a whirlpool on the back deck and a transporter in the basement.”

She spun around to face him. “A transporter?”

“So you can commute to Earth to work. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

“You built this house for us?”

“There’s five bedrooms upstairs. I wanted to make sure we had room to grow. I want lots of babies.”

“Me, too.” She took his hand, letting him see the joy she felt spilling over her. “And I’d like to get started right now.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Where’s the closest bedroom?”

Jordan led her to two arched doors with a design etched across them. She’d seen writing like that before on the glass dome
that held the Key of Soil.

“What does it say?” she asked.

“I wanted us to each have something from our pasts. The script is my native language and it says, You’re the missing piece
of my puzzle.”

He’d remembered the necklace she’d given to her parents. Her hearts swelled with love. “Oh, Jordan.”

“That means you like the house?” Jordan asked, his eyes sparkling and as blue as the sea outside their back door.

“How could I not like it?” Her hearts beat with joy. “I love the house. And I love you. Let me show you how much.”

Jordan picked her up and spun her around. “Now, that’s my kind of plan.”

The precious myths of our heritage are our way of understanding things greater than ourselves. They are tales of the inexplicable
forces that shape our lives and of events that defy explanation. These legends are rooted in the spilling of our life blood,
in the courage of brave hearts, in the resilience of humanity’s tenacious spirit.

—A
RTHUR
P
ENDRAGON

PROLOGUE

In the near future

S
low down, Marisa,” Lucan Roarke warned his twin.

They were deep inside the cave he’d discovered in the Welsh countryside in the shadow of Cadbury Castle, and his helmet light
had settled on a gaping crack in the compacted clay of the cavern’s floor. “Don’t step on that—”

“What?” Marisa looked back at him just as the ground opened beneath her feet. Falling, she flailed her arms and clawed at
the cave wall for a handhold, but the loose earth crumbled beneath her fingertips, and gravity dragged her down through the
crevice into the darkness below.

Lucan lunged to grab her, but the unstable earth lurched and dipped under him, throwing him off balance, and his fingers missed
her by inches.

“Marisa!” The sound of splashing water drowned out his cry.

Lucan had brought his sister to Cadbury Castle for a vacation, and he’d been excited to show her this cave—his latest discovery
in his quest for the Holy Grail. Although many dismissed the Grail as mythical, his years of exploration and research had
convinced him the vessel actually existed.

Lucan peered through the gloom into the chasm, but his helmet light couldn’t penetrate the blackness. Even worse, the earthen
sides of the hole made a steep vertical descent. Reaching for the heavy-duty flashlight he carried in his back pocket, he
yelled, “Marisa? Talk to me, damn it.”

Nothing but silence answered him.

Closing his eyes, Lucan inhaled deeply and concentrated on linking his mind with hers, a telepathic communication the two
had shared since they were little.

Marisa. Where are you?

In the water. Help me. I’m cold
.

Heart racing, Lucan shined the flashlight into the darkness and spotted her head above the rushing water.

“Lucan. Here.” Smart enough not to fight the powerful flow of water that tried to sweep her downstream, Marisa swam for the
wall at an angle and clung to a rocky ledge.

“Hang on.”

She coughed and sputtered, then shot back, “If I let go, it won’t be on purpose. Hurry. It’s freezing.”

Lucan reached for the rope in his backpack and cursed himself for bringing his sister into the bowels of the cave. He’d sweet-talked
her into coming along, desperate to break her out of her funk. Since her latest miscarriage, she’d been fighting off depression.
He’d hoped this excursion would take her mind off her loss, at least for a little while. He hadn’t intended to distract her
by risking her life and scaring her to death.

He uncoiled the rope, then leaned over the hole to see her lose her grip on the ledge. The current pulled her under. “Marisa!”

A split second later, a pale hand broke through the water and clutched a rock jutting from the wall. Marisa pulled her head
and shoulders above the torrent, spat water, and forced her words through shivering lips. “I knew…I should have gone…to Club
Med.”

He looped the rope around the biggest boulder within reach. Then he tossed the line down the narrow shaft. “Grab on and I’ll
book the next flight to Cancún.”

Marisa stretched for the rope. And missed. Water surged over her head. Again she swam to the surface, but the current had
carried her too far downstream to reach the lifeline.