Now and Forever (38 page)

#

His words pulsed their way through her body, leaving a trail of fire behind. She'd heard his thoughts as clearly as if he'd spoken them out loud.
I would not hurt you...not in this lifetime....
She refused to acknowledge them. Trust and danger lived side-by-side.

Instead she stood perfectly still, arms wrapped across her chest, and listened to the sound of his heavy footsteps as he headed for the door.
Don't go,
she thought, surprising even herself.

He stopped, hand on the doorknob. "Mistress?"

She looked up and met his eyes. "I didn't say anything."

"I heard your voice most clearly."

"I don't think so."

He swung open the door.

Please stay.

He hesitated. Her heart slammed into her ribcage.

"Damn it," she said finally. "You can sleep in the cabana." She noticed the expression on his face. "The structure beyond the pool."

"You have nothing to fear, mistress. I will not harm you in any way."

"Don't go reading anything into this," she warned in that fierce, warrior-like tone of hers. "It's getting dark, you fell into the trees, I'm just being a Good Samaritan. If you try anything funny, you'll find yourself staring at my gun."

"I have no wish to be funny," he said, confused by her choice of words to describe what was happening between them. "I will take my leave at daybreak."

Too soon.

"Nay," said Andrew. "Not too soon at all. The early morning is the best time to feel the road beneath you."

She stared at him, her face white as a sheet. He'd heard her words but she hadn't spoken them out loud.

Or had she?

"Have it your way," she said, turning away. "Good night."

Chapter Four

"Everything's fine," Shannon told Dakota for the third time in as many minutes.
Except for the fact that McVie and I are hearing voices.
"The crisis is over."

"I've been sitting here by the phone for an hour. I ate a pint of ice cream. You should've called."

"I
did
call," Shannon pointed out. "Besides, you should've known I was fine. You know everything else before I do."

"That's what had me worried. The vibes were skewed."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't know how else to put it. Every time I tried to concentrate on you, I came up blank."

There is a God,
Shannon thought. She was having enough trouble sorting out her own emotions. She didn't need her best friend inside her head, sorting them out for her. "You're not picking up anything at all?"

"Zip," said Dakota.

"Nothing about McVie?"

"Not since we last talked. Total blank."

A weird sensation rippled up Shannon's spine and she shivered. "Has that ever happened before?"

"Just once," said Dakota after a moment. She hesitated then, "Maybe I should come over there and check this guy out. Something's weird. I can feel it in my bones."

"No!" Shannon realized she'd overreacted and tried to step back from it. "I mean, there's nothing to check out. He's gone."

"His spotters came for him?"

"Not exactly."

"What exactly?"

"He's out in the cabana."

"The cabana?"

"There's nothing wrong with the cabana. Running water, a toilet, a chaise to sleep on."

"Why didn't you call him a taxi?"

"You're the psychic librarian. You tell me."

"Very funny," Dakota said, sounding huffy. "I'm worried about you. So shoot me."

"Look," Shannon said, "I appreciate your concern but I'm fine."

"Right," Dakota said. "I'll call you in the morning."

Shannon hung up the telephone, feeling a weird combination of affection and annoyance. Dakota meant well but she had to realize Shannon was perfectly capable of dealing with whatever life threw her way.

She'd proved that the day she filed charges against Bryant and didn't back down, not even when it grew as ugly as their marriage had been. Not that she'd realized how ugly their marriage was. It took months before she understood that what he passed off as loving attention was really a dangerous obsession. One that had left its marks on her body and on her soul.

She went upstairs and stripped off her bathing suit then slipped into an old pair of jeans and an oversized t-shirt. She wandered back down to the kitchen, moving through the room in a daze, running her hand along the bleached wood countertops and across the shiny lip of the stainless steel sink.

This is a good life,
she thought as if trying to convince herself. She had security, solitude, and the satisfaction that came from helping other women discover that being alone wasn't the worst thing that could happen to you.

It should be enough.

So why was it she felt a gaping emptiness in her chest where her heart used to be each time she thought about the future and came up blank?

She stood in the solarium and looked out the still-broken French doors at the backyard. It was dark outside now and the temple lights that lined the perimeter of the pool glowed softly against the blackness of the summer night.

He was out there. She couldn't see him but she knew he was there. Maybe Dakota couldn't sense his presence but Shannon registered it in every nerve and fiber of her body. She carried the sense memory of him in her thighs, the way his powerful body had felt beneath hers, the foreign smell of him as they'd rolled together on the floor of the hallway, locked in strange and exciting combat.

Maybe she was going insane. Maybe the reason Dakota couldn't sense his presence was because he didn't really exist. Maybe she'd conjured him up out of her own loneliness and need, created him to fill an empty summer's night.

Her eyes caught the slightest movement next to the pool. He stood there, legs apart, hands on hips, looking back at her as she stood in the doorway, watching her watching him. It was like those endless reflections in a series of mirrors where reality and fantasy flash by so quickly that you can't tell where you begin or end.

A crack of lightning illuminated the sky, followed moments later by a clap of thunder. A soft rain spit against the glass.

He doesn't even know enough to come in out of the rain,
she thought. He could go into the cabana and be safe and dry. He didn't have to stand there staring at her like she was the Super Bowl or something.
So what are you going to do? Make him stay out there like a German Shepherd that isn't quite housebroken yet?

She opened the door and motioned for him to come inside.

"Were you going to stand out there in the rain all night?" she asked as he stepped into the sun room. "You could have gone into the cabana."

"'Tis different from the rains I know."

"Rain is rain."

"As I would have said but twenty-four hours ago."

"How is it different?"

"The taste," he said. "The smell of it. Indeed the way it falls upon the skin."

"God help me, but I almost believe you."

"I have no wish to deceive."

"Who are you?" she asked, voice rising in agitation. "One last chance to tell me the truth."

"I am Andrew McVie," he said, his voice echoing in the quiet sun room, "and I have told you the events as I know them to be."

"I don't know why I should believe you."

"Nor do I, mistress."

"You can sleep in here," she said, pointing toward a chaise longue in the far corner. "You already know where the bathroom is."

"Aye." His solemn face split once again in a wide grin and, despite her misgivings, she found herself smiling back at him. "You possess all of your teeth," he observed with a nod of his head.

She started to laugh. "What did you say?"

"Your teeth," he said, gesturing. "They are white and symmetrical and you still possess them all."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Mistress Emilie possessed all of her teeth and she was one score and ten. A most wondrous thing in a woman."

"Well, I am almost one score and ten as well and I not only have all of my teeth but most of them have no cavities."

"And to what magic do you attribute such a thing?"

"Good genes," she said with a shrug. "That and Pepsodent."

"Pepsodent?"

"Toothpaste." She groaned. "I hate it when you give me that blank stare." Was she really going to explain toothpaste to a man who might be pulling the biggest stunt since
Candid Camera
? "Stay here. I'll be right back."

 
#

She grew more beautiful with familiarity. Andrew could detect no signs of artifice about her person, simply a most pleasing combination of face and form, designed to delight a man's eye. Although he had been disappointed to see she no longer wore the skin-baring yellow costume, she looked most appealing in men's trousers and a billowy shirt.

The first time he saw Emilie she had been wearing tight-fitting black trousers that hugged her in a most indecent fashion. Walking behind her had been an enlightening experience. She had explained to him the freedom of dress available to women in her century but Andrew had found it impossible to believe such outfits existed...until now.

He paced the huge and airy room, taking note of the spare white furniture and the way it seemed to hold the faint smell of her skin at its heart. He had believed that knowing Emilie Crosse Rutledge would prepare him for the 20th century woman but he had been wrong.

Mistress Shannon had the delicacy of form with which he was familiar, but she also possessed a strength of body that astounded him. And, as if those opposing traits were not puzzling enough, she spoke with Emilie's disturbing bluntness yet he sensed shadows lurking behind her beautiful aqua eyes that had not clouded Emilie's vision.

"A mistake in the offing," he muttered as he picked up a silky coverlet from the back of the long chair. He had not come forward in time to find love or companionship. The coverlet also carried with it the scent of Mistress Shannon's perfume and he quickly replaced it atop the long chair. He was not a foolish man. He recognized danger when danger was about and he would do well to keep temptation at bay.

Loneliness made a man think with his heart and not his head. For a brief time this summer he had believed himself in love with Emilie when, in truth, he had fallen under the spell of the world she'd left behind.

He would not make that mistake again.

The dark-haired woman glided back into the room. "A toothbrush and some toothpaste." She handed him a flexible metal tube and a long-handled brush with tiny bristles.

He unscrewed the white top of the tube and watched, fascinated, as a roll of some sweet-smelling white substance oozed slowly out as he applied pressure.

"You put that on the bristles," Mistress Shannon said, "then use the brush to clean your teeth." She frowned. "You do know how to clean your teeth, don't you?"

"Aye," he said indignantly. "Soft twigs and a good washrag achieve much the same results."

"Apparently not," she said. "If it did you wouldn't be so surprised to see that I have all my teeth." She stepped back toward the door. "I'll leave you to get some sleep."

"I will see you to your chamber."

She smiled briefly. "That won't be necessary."

"Aye, mistress, 'tis the proper thing to do."

"Now I know you're not from this century," she said, her smile reappearing. "There isn't a man on this continent who'd do that without an ulterior motive." She narrowed her eyes. "You don't have an ulterior motive, do you?"

"Naught but the desire to give you safe passage through the house."