Love Lasts Forever (3 page)

The lack of sleep took its toll on him. Stifling a yawn, he sat at the base of one of the maple trees and leaned back against the trunk. Determined to fix the watch before he succumbed to a nap, he opened the catch and stared intently at the timepiece’s stern face. The time read an hour later than when he had set it.

“Seems right to me,” Thor murmured softly. Just to be sure, he held the watch up to his ear again. This time, the ticking was loud and clear. “It’s good to know there are still some things I can do.” Slumber overtook him soon after.

A soft melodious hum roused him from his impromptu nap. Thor felt more relaxed than he had in months. The sound of plopping water accompanied the lilting, feminine voice that drifted in the air. Where he napped was private property. Hikers never ventured that far onto their land. His Good Samaritan instincts kicked in, and he followed the sweet voice, having decided to help the lost soul find her way.

As Thor followed the sounds, he noted differences in the woods that he knew like the back of his hand. The trail wandered off in several haphazard directions. He frowned. A nap in the great outdoors wasn’t what it used to be. Waking up disoriented irritated him.

The voice grew stronger. His pace quickened in time to the melodious tone. He reached her just as she dipped the second pail into the water. Pausing briefly, he allowed himself a few moments to appreciate the view she unwittingly provided.

She seemed about average height for a woman. It was hard to tell for sure since she was bent over. Wearing a long, coarse brown skirt, her clothing appeared outdated, but the rounded curve of her backside was timeless. Breath lodged in his throat. His imagination conjured an image of her without the cumbersome garments. Masculine approval swept through him. “Mmm.”

As she rose to her full height, his heart raced in an unexpected resurgence of primal male interest and expectation. Long, glossy black hair fell in a single braid down her back. The tips of the wispy tendrils brushed against the waistband of her skirt and brought his attention to the small width of her waist. Unable to wait another second to see the face he instinctively knew was beautiful, he coughed once to alert her to his presence.

“Hey.”

She stumbled at the sound of his voice. Quickly and with the gracefulness of a ballerina, she righted herself and stood tall. Surprise shone in her large, dark eyes, her sensual, full lips parted. The beautiful stranger inhaled a sharp breath and answered with husky warmth, “Mr. Anders. Good morning.”

Anders?
Thor wondered about that only briefly. Drinking in the sight of her consumed him. Long black hair dramatically framed her creamy milk chocolate complexion. Rounded olive black eyes appeared radiant with life, pain, and compassion. Her face was an expressive mixture of curiosity and dread before an unreadable mask froze her features.

The swift transformation concerned him. He longed to put her at ease. “It’s okay, really. If you’re lost, I can show you how to get back to the main road.”

The mask slipped. Confusion lurked briefly in the depths of her eyes. She stooped to pick up the other wooden pail and moved with hesitation away from the banks of the creek. “Mr. Anders, I’m not lost. I am here to help Miss Eva prepare for the baby. Miss Olivia sent me over this morning. I can go back…”

She spoke as if she knew him and stared at him as if he’d lost his marbles. He rubbed the back of his head. Maybe Cal was right. Maybe the lineman sacked him harder than he thought.

“Sir, are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine. At least, I think I am. Miss…?”

Her eyes widened at that. She then quickly lowered her lashes and moved down the trail that Thor thought he used earlier. Struggling with the full pails, she took great pains to sidestep him. He ignored her apprehension and moved quickly to reach her. His right hand shot out to take the bucket. Their fingers brushed. The initial contact was startling.

Electricity sizzled from the single touch. The pail dropped from their hands. Water splashed. Thor jumped to avoid it.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Anders, sir.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She looked primed to bolt. His hands on her shoulders stopped her. “Please, I’m the one to blame. I scared you and I apologize.”

“You apologize?” Disbelief lit up her eyes. “To
me
?”

“Yes,” he said with a warm smile as he reluctantly dropped his hands. “I have better manners. I should have offered to carry them both in the first place.”

“Mr. Anders—”

“Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Magnusen. Thor Magnusen to be exact.”

“You sure do favor him,” she murmured mostly to herself. Her head tilted. Large eyes squinted at him. “I can see now that you’re not Mr. Anders.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed with a ready smile. “So what’s your name?”

“It’s Willow, sir.” A small smile touched her full lips before slowly fading away.

“Nice to meet you, Willow.” He took her hand and shook it gently. He then bent forward to grab the handle on the forgotten bucket at their feet. “May I?”

He extended his hand for the pail she still kept a firm hold on. Another quizzical expression crossed her face before she gave him the pail. “Show me where you’re camped out. Maybe I can help you and your pregnant friend.”

Willow gave him another look that said she questioned his sanity. Instead of voicing her thoughts, she nodded once and said, “It is this way, sir.”

Chapter Two

Willow Elkridge walked with her head held high, her back straight, and her thoughts on the man who walked quietly beside her.

He said his name was Magnusen. Thor Magnusen. Thor. God of Thunder. According to Viking history, Thor was the strongest of all the Norse gods and defended them against the forces of evil. Lightning flashed whenever he wielded his ax-hammer. A quick temper warned all who crossed his path. She shuddered.
Now that
’
s a strong title to live up to.

Glancing surreptitiously out of the corner of her eyes, she decided that he was far too beautiful to be a deity of violence, pain, and destruction. His hands, clutching the handles of the buckets, were sturdy, long-fingered, and comely. Worn Kentucky jeans molded to his muscular thighs like a second skin. The matching shirt hung loosely on him but did little to hide the breadth of his shoulders and chest. His rolled sleeves revealed the strength of his corded forearms and the faint dusting of baby-fine light brown hair.

Her heart pounded under her breast. Heat coursed through her. Surely, it was indecent to mark his form so closely. Common sense prevailed. He was Mr. Anders’s kin after all. A woman of color knew better than to fall for the charm and fancy of a white man, no matter how comely or friendly he seemed. Whether slave or free, succumbing to such an attraction only led to heartbreak and quite possibly death. Her urges would be best held in check lest she forget her place or her aspirations.

The lesson from the impromptu lecture did not sit well in her head. Against her better judgment, she stole another glimpse. This time, his face captivated her.

What a magnificent face it was! Compelling blue eyes set off his ruggedly handsome features. His skin, darkened by the sun, had been surprisingly soft to the touch. His lips were full and curved into a generous, warm smile upon her blatant perusal. Shame overtook her, and she stumbled on the path.

“Are you okay?” The rich timbre of his voice wrapped around her like a velvet cloak.

“Excuse me?” Willow fought desperately to rein in her confusing reaction to him.

“Did you hurt yourself? Maybe I should look at your ankle. You might have twisted it or something.”

“My ankle is fine, sir.” His concern for her well-being was another pleasing aspect to the baffling man. Mr. Anders would have never offered to look at her ankle, and she would not have wanted him to if he had. Even if their blood was the same, the two men were distinctly different; nothing alike at all.

“My name is Thor.” His dark blue gaze bored into her and his warm smile returned. “Please, don’t call me sir. It reminds me of my father.”

His response baffled her. Even Reverend Brown, the white man who took her in after her parents died, never spoke with such boldness. Calling a white man by his birth name was unheard of. No matter his age or station in life, she knew that such familiarity was unacceptable. Her brows knitted together, and she said nothing more.

“Let me hear you say it.” His enthusiasm reminded her of a playful pup. He tilted his head down as he looked at her in a breathtakingly charming manner. “Say it, Willow…Thor.”

Her name on his lips caused her steps to falter. She righted herself before she could embarrass herself further and shook her head in refusal. The spark of attraction burned brightly between them. Was it all sport for him? She dared not take that risk.

“You’ll call me Sir, but not by my name. Why not?”

“You know why not,” she responded in a choked whisper. “It is not seemly for me to do so.”

He came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the trail. A confused frown furrowed his brow. “What? Not seemly? What are you talking about? Of course you can call me by my first name. These are modern times, you know.”

“These times are indeed modern, but not quite that simple as you well know, sir.” Swallowing hard, she glanced at the surrounding thicket. The cabin stood only a few yards away. Her reprieve from her chores had ended. She beckoned for the pails. “If you please, I must carry these now.”

“No.” A muscle flicked angrily in his jaw. “I said I’d carry them, and I will. Besides, they’re too heavy for you. Now what’s this about the times not being simple? They’re simple enough for me to call you Willow, isn’t that right?”

“Well, of course,” she muttered as her irritation grew. He knew darn well that it was fine for him to be less familiar with her. Why must he persist in teasing her?

“Well, if I can call you Willow, and by your own admission, I can… Well, by my own admission, you are to call me Thor.”

“I cannot, sir.”

His gaze darkened and his mouth thinned with displeasure. “Then I’m not moving an inch.”

“As you wish, sir,” she countered, holding out her hands again. “The water, please.”

“No.” He shook his head like a spoiled child. “I said I’m not moving. I’ll have to move to give you the buckets, and I’m not gonna do it. Not unless you call me by my name.”

“This is nonsense,” she muttered underneath her breath.

His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Indeed it is. Finally, we agree on something.”

“Sir—”

“No, we can stand here all day if you want. I have nothing to do but enjoy the breathtaking view.”

She glanced around. Only tall oaks and rigid maples surrounded them. Long branches hid the beauty of the cloudless blue sky and the beaming golden sun. Brown and red leaves replaced the lush green variety. Fall was comely indeed, but not quite breathtaking.

“I wasn’t talking about the woods, Willow.” His voice deepened suggestively as his gaze pierced her.

She swallowed hard. With desire burning bright in his eyes, she had no doubt as to his meaning. Her pulse quickened in spite of her earlier warnings to be cautious. He invoked a response in her like one she had never felt in all her twenty-one years. Miss Eva often said that a look from Mr. Anders left her feverishly excited. Now Willow understood why.

“Willow,” he whispered her name softly like a gentle breeze. “Just say it once. I promise to behave myself then.”

“Do you solemnly promise?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Yet, another peculiar phrase passed from his lips. She wondered if he often spoke in riddles or had her highly-strung senses addled her brain. No matter, he had the water she needed. She had no choice but to accept his promise and take him at his word.

“Thor.” Her voice sounded unnaturally low and husky.

Head bowed and peering at her through lowered lashes, he gave her a smile that singed her flesh. “See, Miss Willow, that wasn’t hard at all.”

His remark dumbfounded her. By the time she collected her wits, he had disappeared up the trail. Lifting her skirts, she hastened after him.

When she reached him, the color had drained from his face. His bright gaze swept over the cabin and the surrounding elements. Suddenly, his handsome features clouded over with uneasiness. His rich voice shook noticeably. “Oh, my God. What happened here?”

“What’s wrong?” His change in demeanor troubled her.

“The cabin is wrong. Where’s the rest of it? What’s that barn doing over there? Where did these chickens come from?” The two pails thudded to the dusty ground. He looked east and west. “What happened to the road? Why is all this dirt and gravel covering the pavement?”

Willow moved cautiously toward him. “That’s the road right there.” She pointed to the ground.

The cabin door opened. Eva, her petite frame consumed by the width of her womb, stepped outside. “Willow, I thought I heard you… Anders didn’t tell me that family was coming.”

Eva welcomed Thor with the warmth of her smile. She stepped down the steps with more energy than someone her size should have had and slipped her arm around his. Leading him toward the cabin, she continued to talk.