Wandering Soul (8 page)

“I must first tend to your injuries.”

“I'm fine, really.”

“Then it should not take long.”

Another bathroom adjoined the room. Inside, as expected, he found clean washcloths, which he ran under cold water. An unbidden memory played through his mind, of dousing his vest during the fire. Had it only been days ago? Or decades?

It was too much to consider. At the moment, he needed to focus on Elsa. He wrung out the washcloths and took a towel from the rack above the sink, then returned to her side.

She shifted away from him as he sat next to her on the couch. At first, he thought she was trying to put distance between them, but the sight of her soft smile, the rosy flush creeping up her neck convinced him it was actually an invitation.

The doubts that plagued him faded in the light of her offer, and he found himself sliding even closer to her. He gently dabbed at her hands with the wet cloth. When he had satisfied himself that her wounds were clean, he placed her hands together with the cool cloth held between to help soothe them.

He wondered if he dared to lift the hem of her pants to inspect her knees. Though she seemed to enjoy his touch, surely there were limits he dare not cross. Regardless, it needed to be done. Dante shifted to sit by her feet, turning so that he could see Elsa's face. He needed to watch her expression.

Her eyes were wide as she watched him slide his hands along the sides of her shapely calves. Her skin was like silk. Her lips slowly parted and her breath became uneven. When her legs were exposed up to the tops of her knees, she finally glanced at him.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, smoldering. They burned like embers, and the heat of her gaze raked Dante down to his soul.

As quickly as the look appeared, it vanished, leaving him to wonder if it had been nothing more than a flight of fancy. Returning his focus to his task, he took two more wet cloths and laid one on each of her knees. They bore red marks from her fall, but the skin had not broken.

He lifted her legs carefully, then placed the towel beneath her knees for support. His hands trailed down her calves, a lingering touch that he could not resist. Elsa never shrank back. She never looked away.

He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. She had brought him to her time, her home, to assist with her book. It made a certain sense that she would want to hear from him what his life had been like, but after Rachel's words, he wondered if it was possible that Elsa wanted more. Could she be seeking to create new moments between them to use as inspiration?

If so, Dante was uncertain he would even try to resist.

Chapter Ten

Telling Dante about the legends surrounding him had always been part of Elsa's plan, but not so soon. He needed to adjust, to adapt to his new world and get to know her. He needed to trust her first.

From his perspective, they had only met a few days ago. She was surprised he was still talking to her after what Rachel had told him.

“Shall we begin, then?” Dante was kneeling right next to her, his hands lingering on the backs of her legs. Her skin felt electrified, tingling heat pooling low in her body.

Before she could respond, Winston wandered into the room, an empty glass in his hand. Dante leapt up, then walked several steps away from Elsa. He cast a guilty look at Winston.

“Not interrupting anything, am I?” Winston asked.

“Winston…” Elsa said.

He chuckled. “I heard a car a bit ago and thought you might need another glass for tea.”

“The tea!”

Dante gestured for her to stay in place. “If I may—our unexpected visitor has gone. However, I fear it was quite a distraction. I will go and fetch the tea presently and bring it here. That is, if you will both excuse me?”

“Go on, then.” Winston snorted. “You don't have to be so formal about it.”

“If you would be so kind as to remain here and ensure that Elsa does not try to leave the couch,” Dante said. “I would be much obliged.”

“Absolutely. She needs to be resting, and I'll see that she does.”

“Don't forget to lock the studio doors when you come back in, please,” she said.

“I will take care of it. Do not worry.”

In the doorway, Winston stepped aside enough for Dante to pass, but reached out and patted his shoulder. Elsa didn't miss the smile that crossed Dante's face at the gesture.

Winston inclined his head as if listening to Dante's retreat, then joined her on the couch, sitting next to her when she scrunched up against the cushions. Winston was practically beaming.

“I like him.”

“That's high praise, coming from you. What did he do to get in your good graces so quickly?”

“Why, he's been taking such good care of you, of course. Don't think I don't know. He's been doting on you for days.” Winston leaned in and whispered, “And it's about time too.”

“Dante's just a friend, Winston.”

Winston shrugged. “For now, perhaps. But he's a fine man. You could do a lot worse.”

She was well aware of that. In fact, she didn't think it was possible to do any better. Before she knew that she would be bringing him back to her time, she'd dreamed so many times of living with Dante, of loving him. An idealized love. It was hard to keep those dreams at bay. But he wasn't some weird time-travel mail-order groom.

“And how are you, my love?” Winston asked, reaching over to pat her knee. His hand landed on the wet cloth that Dante had so thoughtfully applied. “What's this?”

“It's nothing. I just took a bit of a tumble in the garden.”

Winston puffed out a breath. “That's it. I take back all the nice things I said.”

Elsa laughed. “It's too late for that. I know how you really feel about him.”

“And what about you?”

She took the dry towel from under her knees and set it on the coffee table, then folded the damp washcloths and placed them on top. They weren't wet enough to soak through and damage the wood.

“It's complicated.”

“Pfft. I'll let you in on a secret. Life is a lot simpler than you think. And it's also shorter. If you like him, you need to act on it.”

“I don't know that he likes me as much.” She wished she hadn't let that slip out, but Winston just laughed and patted her knee again.

“He likes you, all right. He's just too well mannered to let on about it. Why else would he stay by your side all this time?”

Elsa could think of dozens of reasons that had nothing to do with Dante liking her. Fear and uncertainty were at the top of the list. And even if he had been starting to warm up to her, that had been halted by Rachel's untimely information dump.

Dante cleared his throat, appearing in the doorway. How long had he been standing there? Elsa turned scarlet thinking about it.

“You!” Winston turned around. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward her. “I expect you to take better care of Elsa from now on.”

“It was my fault,” she said.

“I fear I must disagree.” Dante entered the room and set the tray of tea and cookies on the coffee table. He straightened stiffly. “I should have been more vigilant. For that I apologize. Both to Elsa and to you, Winston.”

“Well, you just see to it that it doesn't happen again, or you'll get that walloping I promised you the first night you came.”

“I do not doubt it, sir.”

“Well, then. I'm off to make dinner. You kids have fun.” Winston stood and slowly shuffled down the hallway.

“He threatened to wallop you on your first night here?” That was hardly the welcome she wanted for Dante.

“There were extenuating circumstances.”

“I can't imagine what they were. Maybe he was joking.”

“I am quite certain he meant every word. It was shortly after your collapse.”

“He was probably just upset.”

“We both were.”

“I didn't mean to scare you.”

Dante let out a short chuckle and shook his head. His right side was toward her, and he inclined his body so most of his face was covered with his mask. Elsa couldn't stand when he did that, hiding right in front of her.

“The matter was hardly under your control,” Dante said.

“Still, I wanted your first days to be pleasant. That's one of the reasons I was trying to put this off. I want you to be happy here.”

“Happiness based on half-truths is seldom lasting.”

“Full disclosure, then. Or as close as I can manage.”

Elsa held out her hand to seal the agreement. At least, that was what she told herself she was doing. She wasn't just coming up with an excuse to get him closer. The flutter in her chest when he took a step toward her and gently grasped her hand had nothing to do with it.

“I appreciate your efforts.”

He let go of her hand, which was just as well since it was already starting to shake. He sat next to her and waited for her to begin. If only she knew where to start.

Going all the way back to the first time she'd time traveled was much too intense. The memories there were dark enough that Elsa never wanted to think of them again. Besides, she didn't want to overwhelm him with too much information. She decided to start with the legend, since Dante was so focused on that at the moment.

“These legends that grew up around you, they have very little to do with who you are or even what Giselle said about you. The story has taken on a life of its own.”

“A nefarious one, it would seem.”

“There are many versions of the story. Some are frightening, but some are actually quite lovely.”

“From what Rachel said, I do not see how that can be so.”

Elsa sighed, trying to find the right words. She knew this was a turning point both in their relationship and in Dante's relationship with her time.

“There's something compelling about the notion of an artistic genius working so hard to keep creating his art. It resonates deep within many people's souls.”

“Even if he resorts to murder?”

“Not all of the stories say that he did. Some of them say he was blamed unjustly.”

“As Giselle blamed me for Heinrich's death.”

“I'm so sorry. I couldn't keep her from saying so in your time. But I can write a different story now. Your story.”

“Your book?”

“Our book. I won't write it without you. And I will never show it to another person unless you want me to.”

Elsa picked up her laptop. She typed in her password and opened her manuscript folder, then turned the computer around so he could see the screen. He shifted closer as he watched her use the track pad to select the document.

“This is the file with everything I've written so far,” she said. “It's only a rough outline and notes, really. Tap it twice, and the file will open. Or you can press the key that says ‘delete' and the file is gone. I'll promise you I will never try to write it again.”

“You identify so strongly with this character who would do anything for his art, yet you would destroy your work so willingly?”

“You're more important.” Elsa hadn't meant to speak with such intensity. She tried to cover it up, but only made things worse. “Besides, for most people, it's not about the art. It's about the longing for love and acceptance. That's something everyone can relate to.”

Dante watched her silently for a few moments, then he said, “At the very least, I should like to read it first.”

“If you tap on the track pad here, you can open the document. Read it whenever you want.”

“Thank you.”

She thought he might get so distracted by the laptop that he would forget about watching the movie, but she wasn't so lucky.

“I believe I am ready to proceed.”

Elsa leaned forward to put the laptop on the coffee table. Dante reached out and took it from her, then set it aside for her.

“If you do not mind, I would like to avoid Winston's ire. I do not doubt he would make good on his threat if you were to injure yourself again. Indeed, I should not resist his punishment.”

“He shouldn't have said that. Especially not on your first night here.”

Dante ran his fingertips over her laptop, an unconscious habit that sent shivers down Elsa's spine. She couldn't keep herself from imagining those long fingers skimming over her skin.

“There is something else you should know about the night I arrived.”

“Okay.” When Dante didn't continue, Elsa said, “You can tell me anything.”

“You were quite cold when you collapsed. Winston and I were gravely concerned. There were few resources with which to warm you. We resorted to what was most readily available.”

“I don't see a problem with that.” She remembered stacks of blankets on the bed when she woke up.

He turned, his gaze focusing on her with an intensity that made her shift in her seat.

“The primary heat source for that first night was…me.”

“You?”

Elsa's mind immediately filled in everything he hadn't said. Her skin prickled as she could almost feel Dante's arms around her, his body pressed against hers, the heat of his chest at her back, his long legs twining with hers. She'd only had time to set out a pair of pajama bottoms for him. He probably hadn't even been wearing a shirt.

“I assure you, I was a complete gentleman,” he said. “Garrett and Winston can attest to this, as they were present as well.”

Nothing could dampen the pure desire that flooded through her body. All she could think of was Dante next to her. Dante in bed with her. Dante half-naked with her.

“I think I'd like some tea.” She reached toward the glass as he did. He was probably trying to help her again, but their hands collided.

A shock ran up her arms from the contact, lighting her up even more. She had the strongest urge to grab his arm and pull him down on top of her. She took deep, even breaths to try to rein in her libido.

No wonder he seemed so comfortable carrying her around and touching her. That contact was nothing compared to spending an entire night in bed together.

How could she ever look at him again without picturing that night? And how could she ever stop herself from wanting more from him than she had any right to ask?