The Heart of a Hero (25 page)

Julia sat down on the toilet. So what did that make Nicholas?

Well, other than the father of her baby.

Then what, exactly, did that make their child? For crying out loud, she was just getting used to being in love; now she had to get used to loving a magical . . . warrior?

No, not magical—mythical.

Even better—from friggin’
Atlantis
.

And what did that make Titus and Maximilian Oceanus? The bosses, apparently, since everyone seemed to be deferring to them.

Well, except for Nicholas, because they couldn’t seem to get the information they wanted from him, so he couldn’t be all that afraid of their magic.

Oh yeah; she really didn’t need to ask him anything, because several very old, handwritten books she’d found in Nicholas’s library, surprisingly—or magically?—written in good old English, had mentioned Titus Oceanus in great detail. More a series of journals than actual history books, they had chronicled Titus’s rebellion against the gods, from his building Atlantis to hide the Trees of Life he was cultivating to hold all knowledge and ensure mankind’s free will, to his sinking the island into the sea when the gods had discovered what he was doing.

Julia didn’t doubt the magic Titus—and his son—appeared to command was
good
; it’s just that some of the accounts in that book, showing what lengths he was willing to go to in order to protect the Trees, had been downright . . . chilling.

And although not mentioned by name, there’d been no mistaking
who
the infant was who had washed up on an Atlantis beach, eventually becoming the warrior Titus often sent on missions as his . . . enforcer.

Yup, she’d fallen deeply in love with a big strong
mythical
hero.

Julia stood up with a calming breath and began brushing her teeth. So what if Nicholas thundered through time on his figment of the imagination to keep mankind safe? Even heroes needed a soft place to land, didn’t they? A hearth to come home to, children to bounce on their knees, and a madwoman to make wild, passionate love to?

Julia went to the kitchen, pushed the home fries to the side, and broke several eggs into the pan. No, the question wasn’t could she be that safe place for him to land, but could Nicholas fall deeply and madly in love with her? He might
say
her not having an orgasm when they made love didn’t matter, but how long before he started getting frustrated and eventually resentful that she couldn’t respond to him like a normal woman? Four or five years, maybe, before he went looking for someone who could, considering it had taken Clay only three?

But then, Nicholas hadn’t exactly ever spoken of love, had he?

Julia slid the eggs and potatoes onto a plate with a snort. No man was going to declare undying love to a woman he’d known a sum total of ten days. She poured a glass of orange juice, cut an apple and an orange into wedges, slathered a couple of slices of bread with peanut butter, and made a mug of tea. Looking around for something to carry everything, she emptied one of the boxes and refilled it with Nicholas’s breakfast, then headed upstairs hoping a full belly might stop him from growling at
her
.

Except when she crept into the room—followed by five equally hesitant cats—she found Nicholas sound asleep with Sol tucked into his armpit, his head resting on Nicholas’s shoulder. The big lug just barely opened his eyes when the other five cats silently jumped on the bed and proceeded to find their own comfortable spots along the length of Nicholas’s legs.

Julia took everything out of the box and set it on the nightstand, hesitated, then gently picked up his hand and sat down on the bed. She pulled in a shuddering breath, her gaze roaming over his pronounced cheekbones and stubble-shadowed jaw, his lips relaxed in sleep and his . . . She’d never noticed his long lashes—likely because she’d always been too mesmerized by those striking sky-blue eyes. Running her thumb over the back of his battered hand, she gently laid her other hand on his chest.

“Oh yeah, you’ve definitely got the heart of a hero, big guy,” she whispered. “I missed you so much,” she continued, reaching up and brushing a lock of hair off his forehead, deciding she liked how the longer length softened the chiseled planes of his face. “And I was afraid that just as I’d found the courage to love you, you might not come back.” She pulled in another shuddering breath. “Promise me you’ll always come back, and I’ll promise not to mind your old-fashioned muscle-flexing.”

Wanting to support his bruised shoulder, Julia reached past Sol for the second pillow, only to have a piece of jewelry slide out of the case as she lifted it. She carefully tucked the pillow under the arm of the hand she’d been holding, then reached past Sol again and picked up what appeared to be a masculine-looking brooch that spanned the width of her own hand.

The piece was heavy even for its size, made of what she suspected was bronze, with inlays of tarnished silver and three large gemlike stones she couldn’t readily identify. The top stone might be a sapphire, as deep blue as Nicholas’s eyes; the middle one could be an emerald, she supposed; the third stone was solid black, although it appeared to shimmer in the sunlight.

She was tempted to call the piece ancient rather than simply old, except the metalwork was amazingly intricate. Julia frowned at the inlaid silver tree spreading across the top half, then traced its roots winding around three distinct circles on the bottom half—the shorter of the roots running into the blue stone set just below the trunk, one root running into the green stone in the middle circle, and the longest root winding down to the black stone.

She knew this tree, having seen it—or one very similar to it—just recently.

In one of Nicholas’s books, maybe? The piece appeared to be northern European. And if she remembered correctly, the tree was . . . “Yggdrasil,” she whispered as she ran a finger over it, “the Norse rendition of the world built by Odin and his brothers, Vili and Vé, from the body of some evil frost giant the three gods had murdered.”

Julia turned the brooch over to find a raised slot for a wide leather strap, except the strap would run up and down, as if diagonally across a man’s chest. The top two gemstones were set all the way through the piece and faceted to catch the light, but the bottom black stone, even though it also came through, was smooth. She studied the word etched into the metal in an arc across the top of the back, but stopped tracing the inch-high letters when she realized they were filled with dried blood.

SALOHCIN
. That was it; the only writing on the entire brooch.

Julia sighed and started to set it on the nightstand, but stopped in midreach when she remembered having seen the brooch sitting there last night. And she was pretty sure it had been there this morning. She looked at Nicholas, his features softened in sleep. Had Rowan found the piece when they’d undressed him and had washed off the blood and set it on the nightstand before he’d left, and Nicholas had slid it inside the pillowcase this morning to hide it from the Oceanuses?

Did
he
know what Salohcin meant? Was it someone’s name or a place?

Julia carefully slid the brooch back inside the pillowcase tucked under Nicholas’s arm, then pulled the blanket up as far as she could without disturbing the cats. She stood up and kissed his cheek, then softly whispered next to his ear, “I hope you handle surprises as well as you apparently handle a sword, big guy, because I’ve got a couple that are going to knock your socks off.”

She kissed his cheek again, gave Sol a pat, then straightened. “’At a girl, Eos,” she said, moving down the bed to give the little gray curled up between Nicholas’s legs a scratch. “And Snowball,” she added, tickling the white one’s chin. “You go on and purr him a lullaby. And you others keep sending him your healing vibes, because there’s no better medicine in the world than unconditional love.”

Julia quietly walked out of the room and closed the door to a crack so Ajax could get out—which he’d likely have to do within the next hour or two. She went downstairs and stopped beside the island, but then continued on to Nicholas’s office, figuring the boxes of food weren’t going anywhere anymore than she was. She went to the wall of bookshelves and started searching for the books she remembered seeing on Norse mythology—which she hadn’t bothered to read because for some silly reason she’d been more curious about the
Greek
gods.

* * * 

Nicholas watched the bedroom door closing to a crack, guessing that solved one mystery. Julia wasn’t asking any questions about what had happened last night because she was slowly piecing together most of the answers on her own.

He grinned, wondering why that surprised him, considering he’d left her complete access to his house. And knowing her propensity to dive into any book left lying around, he’d taken the time to pull the
modern
translations of his more interesting journals out of their hidey-hole in his cellar before he’d left and randomly tucked them into his library.

He’d watched through slightly open eyes as she’d studied the medallion he’d taken off the ambushing bastard who’d been sent to kill him—the blow killing Sampson instead. And just as he had, Julia had obviously recognized Yggdrasil, the Norse Tree of Life. Nicholas grinned again, sensing Julia in the office below going through his books, and decided it was going to be a very interesting next few days, indeed. He dislodged Sol and carefully pulled himself into a sitting position with a pained hiss, then took the medallion out of the pillowcase and set it on the blanket beside him before picking up the plate of eggs and potatoes.

No, make that a very interesting next few
thousands of years
.

Chapter Twenty-one

“I’m sorry you’re going to miss your Christmas holiday with your family.”

Julia lifted her gaze from the book she was reading and looked up the bed at Nicholas leaning against the headboard, propped up by four pillows and five cats—Ajax being outside at the moment. “No one will even notice I’m missing because they’ll all be too busy fighting over who gets to hold baby Tom-Tom.” She smiled at his surprise. “Reggie started calling the poor kid that the first time he held him, and it stuck. Everyone’s going to Tom and Jerilynn’s for dinner, even Daddy.”

He closed his own book—which was in Latin—and set it on the bed next to the others he’d been scanning, already having gone through the pile on the floor that she’d lugged up over the last three days looking for clues as to who or what Salohcin was. “Have you seen your father since you moved out?” he asked.

Julia rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. “Twice.” She quickly glanced over. “But before you start flexing your muscles at me, we met at the Drunken Moose—nice and public neutral ground.” She looked back up at the rafters. “He hasn’t had a drink since Trisha and I moved out, and the second time we met for lunch he brought along a woman he met at the AA meetings he started attending down in Turtleback.”

“AA?”

Julia rolled back onto her stomach. “It’s a support group for alcoholics. Mom got him to go a couple of different times years ago, but it never lasted.” She brushed the blanket smooth in front of her. “Dad actually drank less after she died, only going on a bender every couple of months instead of every few weekends.” She shrugged. “Maybe having a woman friend who understands what he’s fighting will make it stick this time.” She looked up with a chuckle. “Dad was all spiffed up and smelling like a bottle of cologne, and Deloris—that’s the lady’s name—was acting like he hung the moon. They’re going to Tom and Jerilynn’s for Christmas as a couple.”

“I’m sorry you’re going to miss it,” he repeated.

Julia shrugged again. “It comes around every year. And besides, I’ve been so busy, I didn’t have time to go Christmas shopping and I missed the deadline for online ordering.” She looked down at the blanket again, this time nervously plucking at it. “I did manage to get you something, though. And I didn’t even have to go shopping because I made it. Well,
we
made it,” she said, finally looking up, only to scramble upright when she saw him staring at her belly. “Ohmigod, you know.”

He lifted his gaze to hers and nodded.

“But
how
?”

“My mother is a midwife, so I grew up surrounded by pregnant women. I could probably spot one across the room at only a few weeks along.” He raised his arm, gesturing with his fingers for her to move into his embrace—which she did without hesitation. He stroked a finger down her cheek as she melted into the crook of his shoulder. “The glow of your skin, the hint of a secret in your eyes . . .” He lifted her chin to look at him. “Plumper breasts,” he said with a chuckle when she hid her face in his shoulder. “You’ve also slowed down. A month ago I couldn’t have pictured you lying around in bed for three days just reading.” He lifted her chin again. “Thank you. I can’t imagine my son having a more beautiful, intelligent, loving mother.”

Julia tried to hide her face again, but suddenly leaned away instead. “Son? You know we’re having a boy?” She narrowed her eyes. “As in you magically know?”

He shook his head. “No magic involved. I’ve merely decided I’m not having daughters.” She saw him actually shudder as he looked toward the hall. “Just sons,” he growled, looking back at her and grinning again, albeit arrogantly. “You’ll be thanking me in the years ahead, Julia. Or have you not spent any time around Sophie and little Ella? Or Peg’s girls, Charlotte and Isabel?” he continued, his eyes shining with laughter. He pulled her back to his shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll get married New Year’s Day.”

Julia scrambled away again to gape at him, but then sighed. “Peg warned me you guys don’t
ask
.” She got off the bed and walked to the window. “But I . . . I’m afraid, Nicholas,” she softly confessed, staring down at the driveway.

“Of the magic?” he asked in surprise.

As in the magic they’d been tiptoeing around for the last three days instead of actually discussing? “No, I’m pretty sure I can deal with that part of you.” She took a deep breath and continued staring out the window. “But I’m not so sure I could handle your coming to resent me when I can’t . . . I would probably still be married to Clay if it weren’t for . . .” She took another deep breath. “What’s going to happen when I don’t respond to your lovemaking like a normal woman?”

Julia dropped her head when he said nothing and fought the tears stinging her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered past the lump in her throat, “with every fiber of my being.” She finally turned to see him looking down at his lap, sitting as still as a stone. “It would kill me if you started taking my lack of response . . . personally.”

“What I take personally,” he said quietly, still looking down, “is being judged by the same measuring stick as your former husband and lovers.”

“Lover, as in
one
,” she growled. “I don’t, nor did I ever, sleep around.”

He snapped his head up, his eyes widening—that is, until they suddenly narrowed in . . . Oh God, he looked thunderous. “You’re basing all your beliefs about lovemaking on
one
man? And from that you’ve decided we
all
need to prove our manhood in bed?”

Julia spun back to the window. “I’m not broken.”

“
I’m
not the one you have to convince.” She heard him pull in as deep a breath as his bandage would allow. “I would ask that you trust me on this, Julia, since it appears I’m the one with any real experience. So all you need convince me of before we marry is that
you
won’t take it personally when I don’t even try to make it happen.”

She turned to gape at him. “Huh?”

He shrugged his unbruised shoulder, his grin sudden and irreverent. “Near as I can tell, our entire lovemaking is one long orgasm for you.”

Julia slapped her hands to her slackened jaw and turned back to the window so he wouldn’t see the sheen in her eyes at the realization he might actually
get it
. She
loved
making love to him. And yeah, it was one long orgasm.

“New Year’s Day, then,” he softly repeated.

Considering Mac had given Olivia a week and Duncan had given Peg less than twelve
hours
, she supposed nine days wasn’t so bad. “Well,” she hedged just to bug him, “I might be able to throw together a hot dog and beer wedding on such short notice, except we’ll have to use the fireplace in the—”

Julia grabbed the window casing with a gasp. “Oh, Nicholas,” she whispered, her vision blurring with tears again. “A figment of the imagination just came galloping into your driveway.”

He threw back the blankets with a shout, scattering the five cats, and swung his feet off the bed with a growl. Julia rushed over and tucked herself under his arm as he used the nightstand to leverage himself to his feet. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered, pulling away from her to lift the sash. “Phantom!” he shouted out the open window as Julia ended up having to kneel down and squeeze past him to see. “What took you so long, you old dog?” he continued when the horse stopped in midprance and looked around the dooryard. “Up here!” Nicholas pulled Julia to her feet. “Go call Rowan to come let him in the garage.”

“I think Mac took your phone. I didn’t see it in the basket when I wanted to use it to call Trisha yesterday.”

“There’s a resort phone in the oak box on my bookshelf,” he said as he braced his hands on the window ledge and gave a sharp whistle.

Julia ran off just as the cats all headed to the window, except for Sol, who raced down the stairs ahead of her. She saw him slide to a halt at the cupboard door and open it with his paw, then heard the cat door flap as he shot outside. She continued into the office, found the box and took out the phone, then turned it on as she rushed to the window. She found Rowan’s number and pushed
SEND
, then slid back the curtain just in time to see Sol skid to a stop in front of Phantom, making the horse rear up excitedly.

“Sol, you idiot!” she heard Nicholas shout. “You know what he’s like after he’s—”

“Rowan, Phantom’s back,” Julia said when he answered. “He’s standing in Nicholas’s driveway. Can you come down and—yes,” she said when he cut her off, “he’s covered in dried blood and is still wearing a saddle and bridle without any reins, but he doesn’t seem to be limping or anything.” She headed back upstairs at a run. “Yeah, he’s shouting out his bedroom window at him. Please hurry. I don’t know if I can keep him inside, and he’s still too unsteady to go near that horse.”

She ran in the bedroom to find Nicholas pulling a pair of sweatpants out of his bureau drawer and rushed over to try to snatch them from him only to end up in a tug-of-war—which she lost when he merely raised his hand over his head.

“The only way you’re going out there,” she said, backing to the door and grabbing the casings, “is through me.”

He actually grinned. “I suppose we might as well start setting the ground rules,” he said as he leaned against the bureau and slowly bent to slide a leg into the pants, “before you say
I do
.”

“I’m warning you,” she growled. “Don’t make me flex my real muscle.”

He slid his other foot in the other pant leg, worked the pants up over his boxers, then straightened with a soft hiss. He looked around and grinned again. “I don’t see your usual weapon of choice. Where’s your tote bag?”

“Nicholas,” she softly petitioned when he opened another drawer and pulled out a sweatshirt. “Please don’t go out there.”

He started to lift the shirt to his head, but hesitated. “Unfair. No pleading.”

“How about if Rowan brings Phantom to your office window and you can sit in a chair and fawn all over him? I have some carrots in the fridge you can give him.”

“We need to make him a hot oat mash with molasses and diced carrots,” he said, putting on the shirt.

“Show me how, and you can give it to him from your office window.”

He was utterly serious when his head emerged from the shirt. “Do you have any idea the hell he went through getting back here on his own?”

“No, I don’t,” she returned just as quietly, walking up and placing her hand on his chest. “But I have a pretty good idea of the hell you went through. Please, Nicholas; you’re just starting to— Wait. That night in the tunnel, I heard Rowan ask Mac if he couldn’t simply heal you. Can he?”

He wrapped an arm around her with a snort and slowly started toward the door. “Mac knows better than to even try.”

“But if he can heal you, why wouldn’t you let him?”

He lifted his arm away to brace his hands on both banisters. “Because I can damn well heal myself,” he said on a hiss of pain as he slowly started down the stairs.

Julia stood glaring at his back. “Then why
damn well
don’t you?”

“Because I choose not to.”

She rushed down the steps when he reached the bottom and tucked herself under his arm again. “Are you going to be this stubborn when you’re ninety?”

“Yes.” He gave her a squeeze. “Assuming you don’t bludgeon me to death before then.” He stopped and lifted her chin to look up at him. “My body is doing a fine job of healing itself, Julia, on its own schedule, using its own magic.”

“But I don’t understand why you don’t just—”

“I’m buying myself time.”

“Can’t you just
pretend
you’re not healed instead of going through all this pain?”

She saw the light go out of his eyes. “I’ll not dishonor Sampson’s memory by walking away unscathed as if it never happened.”

Julia tried to turn away, but he gently folded her into his embrace. “He should have been the one carrying
me
back,” he said on a heavy sigh. “And at the very least, I should be the one taking him home right now instead of Mac.” He tilted her head back and grinned sadly. “Are you ready to talk about the magic now?”

“I might be, if we were to talk in your office while Phantom eats his mash.”

“Deal,” he said, using her as a walking cane again as he headed to the office.

Darn it to Hades, he hadn’t had any intention of going outside.

Just like she hadn’t had any intention of having
the talk
until they were ninety.

They stopped at the office window and Nicholas lifted the sash as if it had never been stuck, and Julia wheeled his desk chair over—only to scramble back when Phantom suddenly skidded into the side of the house, stuck his head inside all the way to his chest, and tried to bite Nicholas’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I missed you, too,” Nicholas said with a laugh as he grabbed the bridle before those teeth made contact. “Easy,” he murmured, stroking Phantom’s huge dark gray nose crusted with blood. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to get rid of you that easily.”

Julia ran to the kitchen, grabbed a fistful of carrots out of the fridge, and ran back into the office to find Phantom standing quietly with his forehead resting up against Nicholas’s chest as Nicholas stood with his hands pressed to the horse’s jowls. But it wasn’t the fact they both had their eyes closed that made her go perfectly still; rather, it was the shimmering green light spreading over the horse’s neck in soft, pulsing waves.