Now and Forever (39 page)

 
#

He means it,
Shannon thought as he followed her through the hallway and into the kitchen. He was determined to see her safely to her bedroom. She was charmed, despite herself.

She checked to make certain the kitchen door was locked then fastened the chain, aware all the while of his intense scrutiny. "I'm going to set the alarm," she told him as she punched in the code. "You'll hear a loud--"

A high-pitched wail filled the room and McVie swore in surprise.

"A loud noise," Shannon finished.

"What in bloody hell is that?" he demanded.

"A security alarm."

"I do not understand."

She pointed to the device, wondering why she was explaining the system to a man who might--just might--be as much a product of the 20th century as she was. "There are units at all of the windows and all of the doors. If someone tries to break in, an alarm sounds and the police are called automatically."

"There is danger abroad? A war in progress?"

"Not the way you would think," Shannon said, "but most homeowners take special care these days."

He grew silent. She could see the consternation in his eyes.

"You need a man's protection," he said at last.

"No," said Shannon. "That is the one thing I don't need at all."

He followed her into the living room and watched as she checked the alarm at the window. "No child's toy can provide safety."

She marched into the foyer and set the alarm at the front door. "I don't expect it to provide safety. I expect it to alert me to trouble." She met his eyes. "My gun will do the rest."

"And what if a man wrested the pistol away from you?"

"I doubt if that could happen."

"It can and will happen, mistress. You are strong but slight of frame. You can be overpowered."

"Like hell," she snapped. "You couldn't do it before."

"I did not try."

"Right," she drawled. "You just like having pistols jammed into your Adam's apple."

"Trust me in this regard, Mistress Shannon."

"I'm a brown belt in karate."

"I have no knowledge of belts. I only know that you are at a natural disadvantage."

"If I felt like it, I could throw you to the ground before you drew your next breath."

He laughed in a most infuriatingly male fashion. "A most unlikely possibility."

She darted toward him, off balance in her eagerness to show him exactly who was boss. Three years of training went right out the window as she tried to topple him to the ground without the proper leverage, concentration, or control.

Basically it was like trying to topple an oak tree with her bare hands.

"Damn you!" she panted in frustration. "Fall down."

He gripped her by the forearms and forced her to meet his eyes.
I can best you,
his look said,
but I choose not to.
There was no denying his strength or his mastery of the situation yet she felt no fear.

He held her tightly enough to make his point but at no time did he cause her even the slightest pain. For those few moments she was completely under his control and he was man enough not to take advantage of the situation.

A sense of elation gathered inside her chest as the tension and anger drained from her body.

"Your actions were untoward, mistress," he said, releasing her.

She nodded. "I know that now."

The expression in his eyes shifted and she found herself drawn to him against her better judgment.

"You will have no need of screaming boxes this night," he stated as if it were any of his business.

"I don't understand."

"I will protect you against danger."

She stopped breathing. Literally stopped. Her heart pounded so violently at his words that it hurt to draw air into her lungs.

"Mistress?"

She struggled to regain her composure. "Th-thank you," she managed finally.

He followed her through the quiet house, up the staircase, then down the hallway to her bedroom. "Good night," she said, stepping inside.

"I bid you a good night." He inclined his head toward her.

She had the insane urge to curtsy in return but nodded instead then closed the door behind her.

 
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Andrew stood in the hallway in front of Mistress Shannon's closed door, listening to the sound of her soft footsteps as she moved about the room.

What manner of world was it when women lived alone in fear, forced to rely upon a screaming box for protection? Had she no family or friends to see to her safety and well-being, no one with whom to break bread?

He paced the narrow hall, considering his options. He could go back downstairs and explore this strangely familiar modern house. There was all manner of oddities to discover. He was certain he could pass the night uncovering one miracle after another, until his brain spun with new sights and sounds and possibilities.

But he had made a promise and he was, above all things, a man of his word.

Who hurt you, mistress,
he wondered, leaning against her door and closing his eyes.
And why are you alone in this world?

Chapter Five

Dakota Wylie worked as a librarian at the New Jersey Historical Society in Princeton. The library itself was tucked into a corner of the campus near McCarter Theatre. On Monday mornings she usually performed as a tour guide, leading Girl Scout troops and senior citizen clubs through the restored Colonial mansion on Stockton Street that housed the museum.

She wasn't sure if it was serendipity or part of a larger plan but on that particular Monday morning the museum was closed for repairs and nobody expected her at the library until noon.

Not that anything as insignificant as her job would have stopped Dakota. She'd tossed and turned all night, thinking about Shannon and the unexpected visitor and wondering why on earth she couldn't get a fix on the situation.

Bits and pieces of conversation...the spine-tingling sense of the unknown...the certainty that destinies were being played out right that very minute and Dakota couldn't quite figure out who and where and why. Once she even flashed on a lighthouse and George Washington, two peculiar thoughts that didn't bear contemplation.

By the time the sun finally came up she was a frazzled mass of nerve endings.

Something wasn't right. She couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was but she'd learned a long time ago to trust her instincts and follow her hunches, no matter how outlandish they might be. Shannon needed her. You didn't pick up vibes about a person one minute then lose them the next and that was exactly what had happened last night. One minute the whole thing had been as clear as the quartz crystal she wore around her neck, then the next minute her mind screen went blank.

The last time that happened had been with Cyrus Warren from Lawrenceville. She'd been doing a reading for him behind the stacks in the library when his aura disappeared just like that. That night Cyrus choked on a chicken bone in T.G.I. Friday's right under the placard describing the Heimlich Maneuver.

So of course she'd read Shannon's cards over morning coffee then checked the runes just to be sure. Each time all seemed as it should be. Long life. Good health. Wonderful family. But the one thing that didn't quite make sense was when and where this was going to happen.

Try as she might she couldn't pick up a time frame or a setting for the events that would transpire and she had the strongest sense that it had something to do with the man who had dropped into Shannon's life from a hot air balloon.

 
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Shannon woke up with a start. Dakota was leaning over her bed, eyes wide with excitement.

"It's about time!" Dakota tossed her the robe draped over the rocking chair. "I was beginning to think he'd slipped you a mickey."

"What on earth--?" Shannon twisted around to get a glimpse of the clock on her nightstand. Somehow the notion that Andrew McVie stood guard on the other side of her door had been as exciting as it was comforting and dawn was on the horizon by the time she'd finally fallen asleep.
 
"It's not even seven o'clock. Have you lost your mind?"

Dakota, psychic but not subtle, paid no attention. "Get up! I want to meet him."

Shannon stifled a yawn and swung her legs from the bed. "He was right outside the door all night."

Dakota gestured toward the hallway. "Well, he isn't there now."

"What about the alarm? Why didn't it go off?"

"Don't ask me," Dakota said with a shrug. "I came in through the French doors in the back."

"Those doors are broken."

"They aren't any more."

Andrew
.

Shannon darted toward the window and looked out toward the back yard. The surface of the pool was calm. The lounge chairs were undisturbed. There was no sign of life anywhere. A sudden sense of despair threatened to overwhelm her and she could do nothing to keep it at bay.

"He's gone," she whispered, pressing her cheek against the glass. Somehow she'd believed he would be there, seeing her safely into the new day.

"Where did he go?" Dakota asked.

She aimed a sharp look in her friend's direction. "I was hoping you'd be able to answer that."

"Not me," said Dakota. "I can't get a bead on that man, no matter how hard I try." She tilted her head slightly to the right. "He was in this room, though. I can feel him."

"You must be wrong," Shannon said. "He never came inside."

"Yes, he did," Dakota persisted. "I'm picking up some very definite vibes."

"Then you're picking them up from me because he never crossed the threshold."

The look on Dakota's face said otherwise but Shannon chose not to pursue the issue. Had he watched her sleep? Instead of annoying her, the thought sent a charge of excitement up her spine. There was something unbearably intimate about the image, something both erotic and tender and too tempting for her own good.

"You look different," Dakota said. "Are you okay?"

"Tired." She'd been reluctant to give herself over to sleep. Knowing he was a heartbeat away from her had felt so intoxicating, so
right
, that she'd wanted to savor the moment as long as she could.

"It's more than that. You look...enthralled."

"Good word," Shannon said dryly. "I don't think I've ever been enthralled in my life."

Dakota peered out the window. "Maybe he's in the woods looking for his balloon."

"Or maybe he's gone."

Dakota shook her head. "He's not gone. Not yet."

She looked at her friend. "You don't think so?"

"Absolutely not. His business here is far from complete."

"You make him sound terribly mysterious," she said, forcing an awkward laugh. "He's just some guy from one of those hot-air balloon clubs."

"I don't think so."

Shannon's heartbeat accelerated. "Don't let your imagination run away with you, Dakota. He veered off course and his spotters lost the trail. There's nothing more to it than that."

"You don't believe that any more than I do."

"Gimme a break," Shannon muttered, forcing herself away from the window. "I'm going downstairs and start the coffee."

"I'll start the coffee. You get dressed."

"No!" Shannon tried to modulate her tone with great difficulty. She felt a strong and illogical need to protect Andrew McVie, even from her closest friend. "I've tasted your coffee," she said with a quick smile. "I'll do it."

Dakota followed her downstairs, chatting the whole while about auras and vibes and whether or not the New York Yankees would go all the way. Typical Dakota Wylie conversation and Shannon found herself relaxing.