Thoroughly Kissed (33 page)

“I know,” she said in that same meek tone she'd been using.

Aethelstan sighed. “Look, you and I, we have our problems and I might not be the best teacher for you. I can get someone else. There are some good people in Europe right now.”

“And there's Sancho,” Nora said.

Emma nodded. “I know. I'll be all right.”

“Emma, please.” Aethelstan's voice lowered. “We're getting off on the wrong foot again, like we always do, but I owe you this. I'm the reason everything is so messed up for you. I'll help in anyway I can. If I can't teach you, then I'll find the best person to do the job. So don't delay this because of me.”

“I'm not,” Emma said. “Believe it or not, Aethelstan, this isn't about you.”

Then she glanced at Michael. He couldn't read the expression on her face and he felt himself grow cold. Was she going to send him home? Had she decided that her world was no place for a mortal?

Suddenly there was a loud crash. They all turned. The silver serving tray was on the floor, the coffee spilling out of the pot. Squidgy was standing on the tray so that the coffee wouldn't touch her delicate paws, and she was eating appetizers as if they had all been made for her.

Nora cursed and picked her up. Aethelstan grabbed the coffeepot and headed for the kitchen. Emma choked out a weak laugh. “Thank God for Squidgy,” she said.

“That's why we went for silver,” Nora said. “She's broken more dishes than any other cat on the planet.”

Darnell hadn't even turned around. Michael bent down and began to clean up. Nora put a hand on his shoulder.

“Leave it,” she said. “Go with Emma. You two clearly have something to settle.”

Michael glanced at Emma. She was already standing. She wasn't looking at him, but at Nora. “Can you take care of Darnell for a while?”

Nora nodded. “He won't like being away from you.”

Emma's smile was small. “After this week, he just might.”

She headed for the door, and let herself out. Michael stood and started to follow her. Nora caught his arm.

“My husband isn't really unreasonable. He loves Emma. It's just that for a thousand years, she was helpless and he was her protector. He can't seem to get beyond that.”

“Emma doesn't need protection anymore.”

Nora smiled. “Once she woke up, she never did. She's a strong woman.”

“Yes, she is,” Michael said.

“You're in love with her, aren't you?”

He glanced at the door. It was ajar, but he couldn't see Emma. She was probably waiting in the hall. “How do you do it?” he asked. “How do you live with someone who was born before William the Conqueror?”

“It creates problems,” Nora said. “But we work them out. You will too.”

He shook his head. “My life is so short compared to hers. I'm a mayfly and she's damn near immortal.”

“I don't think I'm the one you should be talking to about this.”

“Emma assures me that it's not a problem.”

“Then maybe you should trust her,” Nora said. “She loves you too.”

“How can you tell?” he asked.

“I've known her for a long time. She's never leaned on anyone before.”

“She hasn't leaned on me either.”

Nora's expression softened. “Then you haven't been paying attention.”

Emma had never checked into a hotel in the morning before. She wasn't used to the hustle and bustle of the front desk, dealing with people in a hurry to leave, while she waited alone in the check-in line.

Michael stood near the suitcases. He looked pensive. The energy that Aethelstan had given both of them still had them bouncing, but it hadn't erased the circles from Michael's eyes.

Ever since his short conversation with Nora—which he wouldn't share with Emma—he seemed worried. Maybe Emma hadn't explained things well enough to him. Or maybe he was finally facing the reality of what she was.

Emma sighed deeply and found herself wishing that Darnell was with them. Darnell was her security, and she wasn't used to being without him. He was a constant, and she needed him more than she had realized.

The hotel was a modern upscale chain right in the heart of downtown Portland. The lobby was done in blacks and marbles, the ceilings were high, but the attitude was refreshingly friendly. Oregonians didn't seem to understand the word “snooty.” Even the desk clerk, who was astonished that someone would check in at the strange hour of 7:00 a.m. was polite about it. He even managed to find them a newly vacated, newly cleaned room.

When Emma got the key she beckoned Michael. He dragged their luggage cart to the elevator and said nothing as they got on. Her heart was pounding.

“There's a lot of homeless near the river,” Michael said.

“Hmm?” Emma glanced at him. He was staring at the door, almost as if they were strangers.

“All the white horses. Didn't you see them?”

She had. The river was only a few blocks from here. They had driven by it after they left the loft. There had been a lot of horses, and a lot of homeless, although not nearly as many as ten years ago. Portland was working on helping its poor, unlike other cities.

“I saw them,” she said. “Aethelstan didn't approve of them.”

“He didn't seem to be in the mood to approve of anything.”

“I know,” Emma said quietly. A lot of that was her fault. Aethelstan had never been able to figure her out, even though he tried. Sometimes she thought it was because she didn't know her own mind, either.

Although he wasn't that far off about her training. She was postponing it, and not just for some time alone with Michael. The whole idea of using her magic made her stomach twist. She had liked her world small, liked the house with its garden, her teaching position, her modern education.

What she had realized on this trip was that it would all vanish one day, no matter what she did. No matter how hard she worked. Aethelstan had been awake for that thousand years she slept. He opened a restaurant because a lot of the meals he loved weren't available anymore. Recipes, he once told her, survived centuries. Little else did.

The elevator doors opened, and Emma took the luggage cart. Michael grabbed an end, as if he still had to be useful. They pushed the cart to the room, which was on the far end of the floor. Emma used her keycard to let them inside.

The room still smelled of lemon polish. It was smaller than their Montana hotel room, but it had as lovely a view of the city as the loft did. Emma pushed the cart to the walk-in closet, unloaded the bags, then shoved the cart into the hallway and closed the door.

Michael leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her. “It seems that the mood is gone,” he said. “I guess driving for two days'll do that to you.”

Emma walked to the windows. Sunlight fell across her, warm and comforting. The river sparkled, a dazzling blue. Mount Hood looked cool and regal in the distance.

“What are your plans?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment. “We—um—had a date. I thought.”

“I know,” she said.

“And then I thought, I don't know, that we'd spend some time together.”

She nodded. Originally he had planned to go home right away. He had done her a great favor.

“But it seems that your friends have a different agenda.” Michael sounded calm. Emma worried when Michael sounded so calm. “They think it's dangerous to let your magic remain out of control much longer.”

“They're right.”

“So why come here, Emma? I won't hold you to that obligation. It was the heat of the moment.” His voice grew wry. “And I've never found sex enjoyable when one of the parties looked on it as a duty.”

“Is that how you see it?” The words came out of her before she could stop them.

“No,” he said. “I thought that's how you did.”

She shook her head. She wanted to go to him, but she couldn't. She was too confused inside. The training loomed ahead of her—the new life, which she couldn't change.

“Michael, if I ask you a question, promise me you'll be honest.”

“All right.”

She turned. He was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed. But he was frowning now, as if he couldn't figure out what she was going to do.

“Do you think I could have been a good teacher?”

He blinked as if that weren't what he expected, and then he smiled. “You already are. Those students loved to hear what you had to say. That's ninety percent of the battle.”

His response was unexpected. She sat on the bed and patted the spot next to her. He crossed and sat, pulling the mattress down. He didn't touch her.

She took his hands. They were strong hands, good hands. Comforting hands. “You've never been involved with anyone either, have you?” she asked.

“I've had relationships.”

“But you never married.”

“No.”

“Never lived with anyone?”

“That's right.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “Always waiting for the right woman, I guess.”

“And what would you do when you found her?”

His thumb covered hers. “Hope she felt the same way I did.”

“What if she did?”

“I'd make a life with her, if she wanted me.”

“I want you, Michael,” Emma said softly. “I love you.”

He didn't move. She had thought he would kiss her, hold her, maybe lean her down on the bed as he had done before. Instead, his eyes were empty.

“I'll live a fraction of your life, Emma,” he said. “You'll just be getting used to your magic when I'll look old enough to be your father. Then I'll look like your grandfather. And then I'll die. You'll still be a new mage.”

“I know.” Her voice trembled.

“Feo, he said that there are spells to make me look the same age as you.”

Emma nodded, feeling sad. “But not ways to lengthen your life, Michael.”

He bowed his head.

“And,” she said, “our life together would always be like this drive. You'd never know what sort of magical thing would come our way.”

“I always need more adventure,” he said.

She put her finger under his chin and raised his head. It was an intimate movement she had never performed with anyone before. His movement. “You sound hesitant.”

“I'm worried,” he said. “I can't help you any more. It's you and Aethelstan now, or whoever your tutor will be. You'll have to focus on moving forward, Emma, on realizing all that magical potential that everyone talks about. It's going to take years, and I can't stay here while you do that. I have to return to Madison, to my job if they'll still have me.”

“I know,” she said.

“Five years, right?” he asked.

“Minimum,” she said, hating the thought of it. Magic every day, every moment. Always thinking about it, always concentrating on it.

“That's just a blink to you,” he said. “But for me, that's five years I'll never get again.”

Her heart twisted. “And you're not willing to do that? To wait?”

“Oh, God, Emma, of course I am.” He put his hands on her face, brought her close as he had done so many times before. His touch felt so good. “I'll take you anyway I can have you. I love you. I'm just afraid you won't be satisfied. You have so much and all I am is a mildly successful professor who was happy to get tenure. I—”

She kissed him. She had to. She couldn't wait. He said he loved her, and she hadn't been sure. No one had said that to her in a thousand years. Not Aethelstan, not her parents. No one.

He kissed her back, slid his hands down her neck and onto her shoulders. Then his arms were around her, and she wrapped her arms around him.

So close, so perfect—but not yet. She moved her mouth away from his. Someday soon, she hoped, they'd get to go further than a kiss.

“I'll be right back,” she said. “Wait here.”

He looked confused. She kissed him again quickly and quickly uttered the spell that sent her to the Fates. The air crackled, and as it snapped, she saw Michael, staring after her as if she were leaving him forever.

***

She appeared in a drawing room filled with heavy Victorian furniture. It was all made of solid wood and upholstered in red. The walls were the same dark wood, and the carpet held the same rich reds. A fire burned in the fireplace, making the room too warm. It smelled of cigars and Emma resisted the urge to sneeze.

“I don't believe that whist is a game that was meant to be played by people with brains,” said a female voice behind Emma.

She turned. All three Fates were sitting at a round wooden card table. They all had cigars in their mouths, and brandy snifters at their sides. They were wearing smoking jackets and trousers, and they had their hair cut so short that they looked like teenage boys pretending to be men.

“Excuse me,” Emma said.

Lachesis took the cigar out of her mouth. “We're in the middle of a hand.”

“Unless you know something of this game,” Clotho said.

“What is it?” Emma asked, wishing she hadn't.

“Whist.” Atropos set her cards down. “I really don't like these rules.”

“You never like rules,” Lachesis said.

“Shh,” Clotho said. “That's not something we want out.”

“It doesn't really matter,” Atropos said. “I don't have to like them to make them.”

Lachesis set her cards down as well. “I thought you'd be settled now. You've seen Aethelstan. I know you don't get along, but he'll be a fine teacher.”

“If he isn't right for you,” Clotho said, “I'm sure he'll find someone to help.”

“You're a bit high maintenance, Emma,” Atropos said gently. “Perhaps if you give a little, Aethelstan won't be so defensive.”

“He should be even more defensive,” Lachesis said. “After all he's done to this girl.”

“It wasn't intentional,” said Clotho. “We've given him trouble over that, but we know it to be true.”

“All the more reason he'll be the best teacher for you, Emma.” Atropos stubbed out her cigar. “He knows what happens when magic goes awry.”

“He's afraid you'll do something equally as disastrous,” Lachesis said.

“We're lucky you haven't so far.” Clotho set down her cards. “You've come close.”

“That restaurant could have been a catastrophe,” Atropos said as she picked up a new cigar and cut off the end with her shears.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” Lachesis said. “You'll dull them.”

“I agree with you about Aethelstan,” Emma said. She felt overwhelmed by them as usual.

“You do?” they asked in unison. “Really?”

“Yes,” Emma said, swallowing hard. The cigar smoke was making her light-headed.

“Then why are you here?” Clotho asked.

“Because I have a request,” she said, trying not to sound too desperate. Her entire future rested on their responses and she had no idea what she would do if they said no.

***

The spell had been in Old English. Michael had recognized the sound of the words. Emma had told them to him before she left. He stood up and took the spell list out of his wallet. He scanned it until he found the one she had uttered.

She had gone to the Fates.

He cursed silently. What was she doing there? She had to be going for some kind of ruling, something that was out of the ordinary. He knew that much. Was she asking for longer life for him? Some way they could have equal footing?

Hadn't he been clear? He wanted to be with her no matter what. But maybe she didn't want to be with him.

She hadn't kissed like someone who didn't want to be with him.

He had a bad feeling about this.

He stared at the words on the page for a moment, wondering if they would send him to the Fates. There was only one way to find out. He cleared his throat and recited the spell, and waited.

Nothing happened.

Emma had disappeared in a matter of seconds, but he was still standing here. Well, the Fates weren't his governing body after all. He was just a lowly mortal who aspired to love someone who had had stories told about her for centuries. The Ghost of Christmas Present had been the original Merlin, and Aethelstan looked like some sort of Greek god.

Not to mention the fact that Emma was the most beautiful woman in the world. The Fates, everyone, would see Michael as an interloper.

He wasn't. He loved her, but he was willing to let her live her life in the way she thought best. He just had to make sure she wasn't doing anything they would both regret later.

Still clutching the paper, his hands trembling, he went to the hotel phone. After struggling for a moment to figure out how to get an outside line, he dialed the number for Aethelstan's home. Voice mail answered. Nora, giving the standard leave-a-message line.

Then Michael called Aethelstan's cell phone and got another voice mail, this time Aethelstan's—quite charming and extremely personable. Michael hadn't had any idea that the other man could be charming, but then Michael was usually immune to things like charisma and charm.

Finally Michael dialed the restaurant, and after being abruptly dropped, then listening to clanging silverware and cursing cooks, he found out that Aethelstan had gone to inspect cilantro from a new supplier.