The Forever Dream

by Iris Johansen

  "Wrong." Jared's tone was crisp and emphatic. "You'll not only get the best doctor available to care for her, but you'll fly in a competent plastic surgeon to stitch the wound. I don't want even a hint of a scar to remind her of this. She's a dancer, and she'd hate to have her body less than perfect."

  "But I really think—"

  "Then, stop thinking, Betz," Jared said as he inserted the hypodermic syringe filler with pain-killer. "Your track record doesn't show much promise in that area. I may have a medical degree, but I haven't practiced since my internship, and I'll be damned if she won't get the best there is. I don't care what diplomatic problems you have with Jeffers, just get him here."

  "If you insist," Betz said reluctantly. "But it may prove extremely awkward."

  God, he might murder the man before the night was over! "Bullet wounds have a habit of being awkward," he said caustically. "You might remember that the next time you're giving orders to those apes who work for you." He tossed the disposable hypodermic needle back in the bag. "Now let's get her back to the chateau. Tell the driver I want the ride to be pure velvet. If he jars her even a little, I'll break his neck. Understand?"

  "You needn't worry. I've already warned him to be

  most careful." Betz disappeared from view, and a moment later they could hear his voice at the front of the van.

  Kevin was climbing out of the van. "I'll ride back with Betz and get on the phone to arrange for the plastic surgeon to come for a preliminary examination. I'll also have to call the senator and tell him what's going on, so he can start smoothing ruffled feathers." His lips twisted. "It's one of his great talents."

  "So I've heard," Jared said, taking off his jacket and putting it carefully over Tania. He barely heard the van doors close as he drew her into his arms so that she was lying across his lap and cradled against the cushion of his shoulder.

  She was very light, yet there was a solid warmth about her that was vaguely comforting. It reminded him of the vitality and strength that usually glowed from her like an aura, and God knew he needed that memory now. His arms tightened about her protectively as the driver started the engine and then drove slowly and cautiously up the road toward the chateau.

  It was strange to experience this feeling of belonging to another human being after all those years of standing alone. Strange and a little painful. He wasn't sure he liked it. The emotion had too many sharp edges, and it would probably take time to round them off before he'd feel comfortable with it. Well, he had all the time he needed, and he'd better start adjusting now, because he knew it wasn't going to go away.

  He had called it an obsession, and it certainly had been that. She had amused and challenged him at every turn, sparking off him like a small firecracker, arousing him to sexual frenzy one moment and touching off that melting tenderness in him the next. He hadn't really allowed himself to think beyond their time together at the chateau. Perhaps he'd been a little afraid to face the commitment he'd seen glimmering on the horizon the first night he'd met her. Now that commitment wasn't on the horizon, it was here in his arms. The knowledge had exploded within him with the same force as the bullet that had struck her, destroying all the unessentials as if they'd never been. "Jared."

  It was a mere ribbon of a whisper, but he heard it, and his gaze flew down to meet the brilliant darkness of her own. The vitality of her expressive eyes made the fragility and pallor of her face even more apparent, and he felt a thrill of fear course through him. "Are you in any pain?" he asked quickly.

  She thought a moment. "A little."

  "I've given you a shot. You should be more comfortable very soon."

  "I'm comfortable now." She nestled closer to him. "I feel so warm and safe." She shivered. "I was frightened, Jared. I don't think I've ever been as frightened in my life." Her words were becoming slurred as the sedative took effect, and they were spoken with a childlike simplicity. "Hanging there in the darkness knowing—"

  "Don't think about it," he said huskily. "It's over and you're safe." His arms tightened about her. "You'll always be safe now."

  Her lids were slowly closing. "Yes, I'm safe now," she said drowsily. Then her lashes flew up to reveal her blazing dark eyes. "Jared!"

  "Yes, love?"

  "I positively hate mountains."

  In the next few days Tania came to hate mountains even more, for they figured in dozens of fevered nightmares that dominated her existence. If she wasn't dangling over a precipice in an agony of suspense and fear, she was actually falling . . . trailing through fire, her lungs bursting with pain, falling through ice and snow that froze her to the marrow and caused shudders that wracked her body.

  And through it all she was vaguely aware that Jared was always there. It was his strong hands holding her own that stopped the rope from breaking. The cool silver of his eyes kept the fire from burning, and only the warmth of his arms kept her from the cold.

  She would wake to find him lying beside her, his hand gently stroking her hair, or feel a cool cloth on her forehead, and knew without opening her eyes who handled it with such deftness. At first it troubled her in some vague fashion that she was so dependent, but it seemed impossible to summon the energy to fight. She let herself flow with the tide, flow with Jared caring for her. It was what she'd wanted all along anyway, wasn't it? She'd wanted to flow into him, seeking out all the dark corners and making them her own. Now, to her relief, she found that depending on him was not only possible, but the supremely natural thing to do. All that was necessary was to accept his gift of warmth and gentleness and suddenly that other knowledge would be hers also.

  Like a hundred tiny tributaries that wound their separate paths to the sea, that knowledge filtered through the levies of distrust and anxiety she'd erected, as if they didn't exist.

  There was nothing in the man who cared for her so tenderly to fear or distrust, so why shouldn't she give him that acceptance? Though he remained an enigma, it was no longer one that represented danger to her. In these days of pain and nightmare, she'd come to this realization and it filled her with a serene sense of well-being.

  The dark green velvet canopy above her bed was familiar, but everything else in the room seemed strangely unreal, when she opened her eyes two nights later. The light of the exquisite crystal lamp on the bedside table cast an intimate glow within its narrow perimeter that included the figure of Jared Ryker, sitting in the tapestry wing chair beside the bed. His face looked taut and drawn, the broad cheekbones more prominent than ever, but his silver eyes were swift and alert in the darkness of his face. They zeroed in immediately on Tania, though she was sure she hadn't made any conscious movement.

  "Hello," he said quietly, his hand reaching out to close tightly on hers. "It's about time you came back to me. I was beginning to get a little worried."

  Come back to him. Somehow those words sounded so beautifully right, she thought dreamily as her own clasp tightened around the warmth of his hand. Just as it was beautifully natural to wake up and see him sitting there. Dressed in jeans that hugged his slim hips and the muscular line of his thighs and a collarless pearl-gray shirt that made the bronze of his skin gleam darker in contrast, he had his usual air of leashed power and strength. She'd fought that strength for so long and with such skill. Now it was even difficult to remember why it had been so important to resist him.

  "Hello," she answered softly. "I think this is where I came in." Her dark eyes started to twinkle. "Though I hope this time I haven't been plied with aphrodisiacs."

  There was a flicker of surprise in Jared's face. "I'm glad to see you're in such good spirits," he said. "But perhaps I'm a bit premature. You haven't been given paradynoline, but you're still under the effects of sedation. Once you've come out from under it completely, you'll probably be mad as hell."

  Now that he mentioned it, she could detect the signs of that sedation in the languor she was feeling in every limb, but somehow she didn't think this feeling of security was drug-induced. If Jared had sedated her, h
e must have had a very good reason, she realized. She should really make the effort to remember what it was.

  "I fell off the bloody mountain, didn't I?" she asked. "You were afraid that I would." She felt a chill of pure panic run through her, and she instinctively shied away from that memory, which was a nightmare in itself. "Did I ever tell you that I didn't like mountains?"

  "Innumerable times," he said, leaning over to pull the satin sheet higher over the fullness of her naked breasts. "It seemed to be your prime obsession in the past two days. Not that anyone could blame you." His lips tightened grimly. "An experience like that would cause most people to have a nervous breakdown, not just a few nightmares."

  "More than a few," she said, her voice shaky. "I was there, remember?"

  "Yes, more than a few," he agreed quietly, his gaze holding hers with steady forcefulness. "And I was there too. We beat them together, Tania. I won't promise you they won't come back, but there's nothing we can't do if we work at it together." A sudden teasing grin lit up the gravity of his face. "What are nightmares to a woman with eŕb?"

  "Nightmares are a piece of cake," she said lightly. The phrase inevitably brought back a fragment of memory. That was what she'd told herself her escape would be. She shifted uneasily, and a sharp, jabbing pain in her shoulder caused another recollection to pierce the veil of languor. "I was shot," she said, her eyes widening incredulously. "They actually shot me."

  "It was a mistake," he said quickly, his hand tightening around hers with bone-crunching strength.

  "God, that sounds feeble, sweetheart. Betz had imported a couple of trigger-happy new men, and they were so jumpy they were shooting at shadows. They didn't realize it was you." He was suddenly sitting on the bed beside her, and gathered her other hand in his as well. "It was an accident, Tania. Betz may be something of a fool, but he knows I'd murder him if anything happened to you. For that very reason, he discreetly transferred the man who shot you back to Washington while I was occupied with taking care of you. Your wound isn't that bad, Tania. The only reason you went into a tailspin was the shock, and the plastic surgeon assured me that after a few months the scar will hardly be noticeable."

  "I take it you're apologizing?"

  "I'm not doing very well, am I? I suppose I'm a little rusty at it." His eyes darkened soberly. "Yes, I'm apologizing most humbly, little Piper. Will you forgive me for letting this happen to you?"

  She cocked her head consideringly. "I'll have to think about it. I've never had anyone apologize for shooting me before, so I can't be certain you're doing it properly." She grinned. "I must admit I'm tempted to make you suffer a little before giving in. It just might temper that strain of arrogance I've noticed in you."

  "No one could do it better," he said huskily. "You're an expert at making me suffer." He lifted her hands and kissed each palm lingeringly. "What would you like me to do? Get down on my knees and plead?"

  "Would you?"

  "Yes," he said simply. "If that's what it would take. Would it please you to see me like that, sweetheart?"

  It would hurt her unbearably, she knew suddenly. She didn't want to see him humbled and beaten, even by her. She shook her head. "No, it wouldn't please me,"

  she said lightly. "Because we both realize it would just be a matter of form. Even while you were saying the words, I'd know I hadn't really won a victory. You're a man of steel, Jared Ryker."

  "Nope, that's Superman. And I'm definitely not that where you're concerned. I'm discovering new vulnerabilities all the time." He smiled gently. "I'm getting to the point where it doesn't even bother me anymore."

  "I find that hard to believe." She was experiencing an odd sensation that had nothing to do with the sedative and everything to do with the man sitting beside her. "I think you would shore up a weak defensive area so quickly it would make my head swim."

  He frowned. "I think your head is swimming at the moment anyway. You're remarkably lighthearted for someone who's just regained consciousness after suffering a gunshot wound." He released one of her hands to place his fingers lightly on her forehead. "No symptoms of fever, or I'd think you were a little delirious. Why the hell aren't you more upset?"

  She was a bit confused on that score herself. Why was everything colored with a rosy glow? She had an idea that the answer had something to do with the tentative trust she'd learned to place in him in the past weeks, but she couldn't put a label on the other feeling she was experiencing, and she didn't even want to try. It was too gossamer-like an emotion at this point. She didn't want to share it with anyone, not even Jared, who inspired it. It was a lovely secret that she could hug close to her like a child with her favorite toy.

  "Perhaps it's the sedative," she said, a tiny enigmatic smile on her face. "Maybe tomorrow, when my thinking is clearer, I'll take a more logical view of the situation. Yes, I'm sure I'll be quite sensible tomorrow." She closed her lids, but she could still see him sitting there looking down at her with those puzzled eyes. Such lovely silver eyes. "But I think I'd like you to kiss me good night right now. Will you do that, Jared?"

  She heard his sharply indrawn breath, and the sound caused that delicate budding to push out new slips of brilliant life. "My pleasure," he said huskily. Then she felt the warm, sweet cleanness of his breath and the touch of his lips on the curve of her cheek. "Definitely my pleasure, love."

  Then he was moving, his weight shifted off the mattress, and she could hear him settle once more in the chair beside the bed.

  She smiled contentedly, tucking her palm over her cheek to hold captive that lovely treasure of tenderness. He was wrong, she thought drowsily. It was definitely her pleasure too.

  Chapter 9

  The man sitting in the chair when she woke up wasn't Jared. The fact registered at once, but it took her a moment to realize just who the stranger was who'd invaded her bedroom and possessed such an air of casual élan as he waited for her to awaken. Sam Corbett.

  There wasn't a chance of not recognizing a politician so powerful, a man so famous, especially to the hundreds of thousands of women voters who idolized him. His handsome face, with a cleft in the strong chin, was boyish. The lock of gray-streaked brown hair that was allowed to fall over his forehead was boyish, too—but there was nothing boyish about his hazel eyes. They were more a clear green than brown, and revealed a startling directness and a keen intelligence.

  Those eyes were regarding her with an alertness that changed immediately to warmth when he realized she was awake. "I must apologize for barging in on you, Miss Orlinov. I'm Sam Corbett," he said with an apologetic smile that lit his tanned face and caused laugh lines to fan out around his hazel eyes. "And that is, I know, the least of my transgressions against you. You've really been treated outrageously by everyone involved in this project since you entered into the picture."

  She tried to sit up and he was instantly at her bedside to help her, arranging the pillows behind her with practiced courtesy. She was still naked beneath the sheet, and while she hadn't felt the least bit awkward about that fact with Jared, she now clutched the sheet to her shoulders as it started to slip.

  His gaze ran over her with an expression that was distinctly appreciative without being in the least lascivious. "Lovely as you are, I felt you'd be more comfortable while we talked if you were wearing this." He reached down to the foot of the bed and picked up a pink pleated bed jacket that was fashioned like a cape.

  "I can put it on," she said.

  He gingerly drew the bed jacket over her shoulders. "Allow me. I'll be very careful not to hurt you."

  He glanced up with a quick grin as he fastened the first button. "My last report on the situation here stated that you were a very independent woman, Miss Orlinov, but surely it won't bother you to accept a little help under the circumstances. After all, we're the ones responsible for your being hurt." His deft fingers fastened the last of the tiny pearl buttons down the front of the bed jacket and his expression quickly sobered. "A fact I regret exceedingly, I might
add. It was totally unforgivable of Betz to let this happen. I flew here from Washington as soon as I heard you'd regained consciousness, to assure you that I'll personally see nothing like this will occur again while you're at the chateau."

  "It was unforgivable," she agreed, her dark eyes steady on his. "But this entire charade falls in that same category. I find it incredible you could be involved in something like this, Senator. From what I've heard, kidnapping and shooting innocent women isn't precisely your cup of tea."

  He grimaced. "Believe me, it's not, Miss Orlinov. Betz took matters into his own hands regarding you. He can be a little overenthusiastic about his work at times."

  "Overenthusiastic!" she echoed, her eyes flashing. "What a euphemism! We're speaking of criminal acts of violence, Senator."

  "I'm fully aware of that, Miss Orlinov," he said soothingly as he stood up and moved the few steps to the bedside table and picked up the thermos carafe of coffee on the tray beside the lamp.

  "Let me get you a cup of coffee and I'll try to explain my actions more clearly. You may not be sympathetic or forgive the course we've been forced to follow, but you'll at least understand." He poured the coffee into a delicate hand-painted cup. "You take it with cream, don't you?"

  "That's right."

  It seemed that the senator was very well informed, and exceptionally retentive of even the smallest detail.

  He was quite tall and fit. Tania knew he was in his early fifties, yet he looked at least ten years younger in the casual gray flannel slacks and lemon-yellow crew-necked sweater he wore. He'd finished pouring his own coffee and returned to hold her cup out to her. "I thought it best to dispense with a saucer. It would be difficult to manage with only one good arm, and Jared tells me it will probably be painful for you to move that arm for a few more days."

  She accepted the cup of coffee. "Jared knows you're here?"