Until Forever (24 page)

R
oseleen fretted about it during the entire flight home. She had agreed with David and assured him that she’d adjust her thinking and try to put the whole thing behind her. But it wasn’t going to be that easy, not when a dream seemed more real than what was apparently real. And telling herself to forget about it was fine, except her emotions weren’t paying attention.

When she arrived back in the States, she decided to rent a car and drive to see Gail first, before she went home. She could tell Gail anything, and she did, recounting the whole experience, every single incident, from Thorn’s first appearance in her classroom to her dropping the sword across his lap. And as she talked to her friend, she knew she wasn’t recalling a dream, she was confiding her memories, and they were crystal-clear, every one of them. But Gail, just like David, swore she’d never owned the sword to begin with,
that Roseleen hadn’t shown it to her that last time she’d visited.

Afterward, exhausted, but feeling somewhat better for getting it all out, she said, “I know it has to be a dream, Gail, but how is it possible to remember such details? Like the day Thorn discovered television, during that last week I spent with him. I never laughed as hard as I did at his reactions when I showed him what a remote control could do. Imagine
commercials
being fascinating.”

“Oh, stop it.” Gail giggled. “What do I have to do, get pneumonia to have dreams like that? Why don’t you just be glad you had the experience, dream or otherwise, and let it go at that?”

Feel glad that she’d had the experience? Roseleen mused. She would if she could just stop hurting and missing Thorn so much. As dreams went, this one had been a royal pain in the neck as far as her emotions were concerned.

And before she left, Gail had remarked about the whole tale, “Sounds like a book I read recently. Maybe you read it too, and that illness you had made you think you lived it instead. Damn, what a neat concept. I’ve got a bookshelf full of books I’d love to live through. I think I’ll go stick my head in the freezer for a while. How long do you think it takes to catch pneumonia?”

Trust Gail to make her laugh. Roseleen was glad she had decided to go see her friend before returning home. She was at least encour
aged to think she would get over her dream man eventually. But it really would have helped if that expensive glass display case she’d had made for Blooddrinker’s Curse weren’t still hanging in the center of her weapons collection.

When she discovered it later on the afternoon that she arrived home, her confusion returned in spades. Was she supposed to have ordered that merely on speculation, because she
hoped
to own the sword? It wasn’t in her nature to be that frivolous. Yet there was the case—empty. Of course, that would explain why she was so angry at Dearborn, since she’d already wasted money on a weapon he refused to sell her. But why couldn’t she remember it that way, instead of only the way it had been in her dream?

She was in the middle of sorting out this new confusion when the doorbell rang and a measuring cup was practically shoved in her face when she opened the front door.

“Borrow a cup of sugar, ma’am?”

“Excuse me?”

“Roseleen White, isn’t it?” the man holding the cup asked. “I’m Thornton Bluebaker. Our neighbor on the other side of you, Carol What’s-her-name, told me all about you.”

She took her eyes off his cup then so she could focus on him, and nearly went into shock. As it was, all she could do was stare. His light brown hair was short, falling only just below his ears, and in a style that was currently fashionable. His clothes were com
pletely modern, tight black jeans with a tank top and a short suede bomber jacket full of American flag patches. But his face was Thorn’s. His body was Thorn’s. His lovely blue eyes were Thorn’s. Even his name sounded too similar—Thorn Blooddrinker and Thornton Bluebaker.

Her mind was scrambling for an explanation before she broke down and cried. She wanted to throw her arms around him, shower him with kisses—but he was a stranger.
A stranger with her Thorn’s face
. Apparently he was the new neighbor she had been worried about.

“I met you before I went to Europe, didn’t I?” she asked him hopefully. “I just can’t recall exactly when or how…”

“No, I would have remembered meeting you, believe me,” he said with a look that set off heat waves in her belly. “But it’s possible you saw me. I was here a couple times while the movers were getting my things settled in. I think that was before your trip.”

She nodded. That had to be it. She’d seen him, his image had stuck in her mind without her realizing it, and since she found him handsome, very, very handsome, his was the image she’d put into her dreams. Maybe she wasn’t losing her mind after all.

“I heard you’re a college professor. That was the career I nearly chose myself, until someone steered me into writing instead.”

“What do you write?”

“Fantasy fiction. My last book came out a
couple of months ago. Maybe you saw it in the airports during your recent traveling?”

The only memory she had of her trip to Europe was of being so rushed because she’d gone back home for Blooddrinker’s Curse, that she’d snatched up a book in the airport newsstand without really glancing at it. But of course, that had been part of her dream. Her real flight to England must have been so mundane, she didn’t recall it at all. So it was possible she’d seen his book. She just had no memory of it.

“What was it about?” she asked, merely to be polite.

“A fantasy about the Viking god Thor’s unknown brother Thorn. Fascinating concept, dealing with a cursed sword and time traveling—what’s wrong?”

Her knees had buckled. Her vision blurred for a moment. She came about as close to fainting as she ever had, and he’d reached to grab her when she’d started to sink to the floor. His touch, his closeness, only made it worse. Her system was going haywire, thinking he was Thorn, making her want…Oh, God, was she dreaming again?

“It’s okay,” she got out, but it wasn’t. Now she was certain that she was losing her mind. “I just felt a little dizzy. And I—I think I have read your book. I must have picked it up in the airport.”

“Really?” He beamed. “How’d you like it?”

“It was—very unusual. There was a love story in it too, wasn’t there?”

“Yes. I don’t usually do love stories—just not my thing. But it seemed appropriate for this book.”

“I don’t recall finishing it. How did it end?”

“Odin told my hero that his lady lied. She did love him. She loved him enough to send him away, because she thought she knew what was best for him. She thought he couldn’t be happy in her time.”

She knew that she was imagining that his expression was now somewhat reproachful, as if he were actually blaming her…

“I hear the phone ringing,” she lied. “Why don’t you ask Carol for that sugar.”

She closed the door on him before he could make a reply and leaned back against it, closing her eyes as she groaned. Her heart was pounding erratically. And then she felt utterly foolish.

Of course he hadn’t been looking at her reproachfully. She’d only imagined it because she deserved it. And she really must have read his book on the way to England. Gail had even suggested something like that. And nothing else made sense. Somehow, when she’d been sick, she’d lived the book in her delirious dreams, put herself in the heroine’s shoes, and because she was so sick, her mind had somehow obliterated some of her real life in order to substitute those dreams, making her think
they
were real, rather than what really was real.

The doorbell rang again, drawing a startled gasp from her. It was him again. She knew it.
She counted on it. Thorn would never have given up that easily…Oh, God, what was she thinking? She had to stop that. He wasn’t Thorn, he was a complete stranger.

But as soon as she opened the door again, that complete stranger pulled her into his arms and kissed her. And it was no how-do-you-do-ma’am type of kiss, if there was such a thing, but a deep, welcome-home-I-missed-you-like-crazy type of kiss that she found very, very familiar.

When he let go of her, setting her back on her feet—she hadn’t realized they’d left the floor—all she wanted to do was leap back into his arms. There was no thought of slapping him for his audacity when that kiss had been so damn familiar to her.

“I’m not going to say I’m sorry for that,” he told her, his expression now looking seriously possessive. “I hope you don’t think this is a come-on, but for some reason I can’t begin to explain, I felt I had the right to kiss you.”

She knew why
she
felt she had that right, but him? Better not to even discuss that kiss, so she merely nodded and changed the subject. “I forgot to ask how the love story part of your book ended.”

He grinned. “My hero couldn’t stay in Valhalla, of course. He’d only been a guest there, thanks to his brother’s intercession, but that was a place for the dead, and he was still very much alive. So Odin took pity on him—he really had a bad case of the broken heart—and
granted him his choice of times to live out his life. You can guess what time he picked.”

She managed a grin herself. “Oh, I don’t know. Considering how much he loved fighting and war—”

“He loved her more, Roseleen,” he said, and he was suddenly looking at her so seriously, so intently, her heart skipped a beat. “He would have done anything to get back to her, even if he had to live his life over again in her time, and wait until he reached the age at which she knew him, before he could finally find her and make her his again.”

“Is—is that what he did?”

“Oh, yes, and he considered it well worth the wait. Don’t you agree?”

Her smile came slowly, but soon it was blinding. She wasn’t going to question how it happened. Either she had really lived those dreams and her own life had been somewhat altered, so that at least she could retain her memories of him after she’d sent him away, which Odin could have easily seen to, she supposed. Or a glimpse of him and a fantasy story had so impressed her, that she’d actually fallen in love in a dream, because her illness had made that dream seem so real.

Did she agree? “Actually, I think she should spend the rest of her life making it up to him, for being so foolish as to think she knew what was best for him.”

His curt nod was achingly familiar. “A woman’s opinion. Not bad. I’ll have to consult you about the ending of my next book.”
And then he was smiling at her with promise in his eyes. “I kind of like the idea about her making things up to him, though.”

She lifted a brow. “That’s not the way you ended it?”

“No, my ending was rather abrupt. They find each other again and she invites him to dinner.”

Roseleen took the hint and laughed. “Speaking of which, how would you like to come to dinner tonight—to further discuss your book?”

“Careful, Roseleen,” he warned, managing to sound both teasing and serious. “Once you invite me in, it’s hard to get rid of me.”

As if she’d want to get rid of him. She wasn’t about to make that mistake twice, and the smile she gave him assured him of that. She had her Viking back. And she wasn’t going to let him go again.

Philip Caxton saw Christina as soon as she entered the room. She turned away with contempt when she saw him. Well, he didn’t expect an easy conquest. She had seemed to hate him last night.

He sighed, cursing the lack of time. But perhaps Christina Wakefield was just playing hard to get. After all, young women came to London to look for husbands. And he wasn’t such a bad catch. But still, with only one day’s acquaintance, the odds were against him. Damn, why hadn’t he met her sooner?

Anne Shadwell drew Christina toward Philip. “Miss Wakefield, I would like to introduce—”

She was cut off abruptly.

“We’ve met,” Christina said contemptuously.

Anne Shadwell looked startled, but Philip made an arrogantly graceful bow, took Christina’s arm firmly, and walked her out onto the balcony. She resisted, but he was sure she wouldn’t cause a scene.

When they reached the railing, she whirled to face him defiantly.

“Really, Mr. Caxton! I thought I made myself quite clear last night, but since you don’t seem to understand, let me enlighten you. I don’t like you. You are a rude, conceited man, and I find you quite intolerable.
Now if you will excuse me, I am going back to join my brother.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him.

“Christina, wait,” he demanded huskily, forcing her to look into his dark eyes.

“I really don’t think we have anything to say to each other, Mr. Caxton. And please refrain from using my first name.” She turned to leave again, but Philip still grasped her hand in his. She faced him once more, stamping her foot in fury.

“Let go of my hand!” she demanded.

“Not until you’ve heard what I have to say, Tina,” he answered, pulling her closer to him.

“Tina!” She glared at him. “How dare—”

“I dare anything I damn well please. Now shut up and listen to me.” He was amused at the disbelief written on her lovely face. “Tina, I want you. I would be honored if you would consent to be my wife. I would give you anything you want—jewels, beautiful gowns, my estates.”

She was looking at him in a most unusual way. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. And then he felt the sting of her hand across his cheek.

“I have never been so insulted in my—”

But Philip didn’t let her finish. He gathered her in his arms and silenced her words with a deep, penetrating kiss. He held her tightly against him, feeling her breasts pressed against his chest, crushing the breath from her body. She was struggling to free herself, but her efforts only increased his desire.

Then, unexpectedly, Christina went limp in his arms and threw him off guard. Philip thought she had
fainted but winced when he felt a sharp pain in his shin. He released her instantly to grab his leg, and when he looked up, Christina was running into the drawing room.

He should have known better, Philip told himself.

He should have gone to her home in Halstead and courted her slowly. But that wasn’t his way. Besides, he had never courted a woman before. He was used to getting what he wanted immediately, and he wanted Christina.