Forever Wife

by Faulkner, Carolyn

  “Surely you heard about it,” she grunted, not wanting to go into it again. She took the pills back from him, opening the cap and shaking two into her palm. She washed them down with a sip of water.

  “Elizabeth. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Were you in an accident? How was that possible?”

  She almost laughed, except there was nothing funny about it. “You were right. Remember telling me back in college that I needed to have a career to fall back on, because riding horses was dangerous? Well, it happened. I was working with a balky horse. The owners wanted him to jump, but something had him spooked. I’d made great strides with him, but then just as we were about to sail over the fence, a rifle went off not far away. Hunting season. The horse bolted. I was thrown, landed wrong. I broke my collar bone, tore some ligaments in my shoulder, and shattered two vertebrae in my back.”

  Vidar said nothing, but his expression was completely stunned. He really had not known. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted that he hadn’t kept track of her through the years.

  “But – but you’re okay now,” he stammered.

  She shrugged unconvincingly. “I spent two weeks in a hospital, then seven weeks in a long-term care facility. They released me when the insurance ran out. I can walk, but I’ll never ride again. And sometimes the pain is severe enough that it keeps me awake at night.”

  Vidar couldn’t understand it. Yes, he’d walked away from her all those years ago, just like she’d demanded, but not until he’d put a protection spell on her. She should not have been harmed. But then… something must have weakened the spell. She would have done that if she had not been eating well. Suddenly, he felt like spanking her all over again. Then his face blanched.

  She’d never seen him turn that shade of white before. He was one of those perpetually tanned people who didn’t need to work much at it, somehow. But he did, all of a sudden, when he enclosed one of her hands in both of his. “Dammit. I didn’t know about your back injury. Son of a bitch, did I hurt you?”

  “You most certainly did. My butt is killing me, you’ll be happy to know.”

  “You know what I mean,” he growled at her, still looking thoroughly horrified at himself for what he’d done. “Are you all right? Did I set you back in your physical therapy?”

  Liz was truly amazed at just how anguished he was at the idea that he might have hurt her, when she was sitting on a butt he’d purposely tanned, and half of her was of a mind to try to get away with lying to him about it – especially considering what she figured he was going to do if he found out that she’d never really gone to P.T., since she couldn’t afford it.

  But she couldn’t do it to him. He looked too damned guilty, somehow. So she played it off with as much histrionics as she could, putting the back of her hand to her forehead and sighing dramatically. “Oh yes, I’m hurting terribly. It’s awful. The aaaaaa-goooo-kneeeee!”

  He did not look in the least amused at her attempt at humor.

  Vidar sighed heavily, pinning her with his gaze. “Yep. Definitely a brat. Luckily I know how to tame brats, don’t I?”

  Liz couldn’t help it. He was being so annoying and high handed, thinking he could actually tame her, as if she was some sort of wild animal when he was the one with the air of danger about him. So she did the only thing she could do: she stuck her tongue out at him.

  Instead of making him laugh, which was her intention, he leaned forward, capturing her hand from where it lay on the table in one of his, saying in a tone that had all of her nerve endings sizzling, “If I were you I wouldn’t do that, unless you’re prepared to use it.”

  Liz immediately tried to pull her hand out from under his, knowing she was blushing bright red all over yet again, but he wouldn’t let go. “Vidar! Stop that!” She tried to concentrate on her French onion soup, but he had turned her hand over and was slowly tracing circles on her palm with the tip of his index finger and he had her so unsettled that she nearly spilled a spoonful on its way to her mouth.

  He smiled broadly and released her hand, saying, “All right. I’ll be good – for now.”

  Liz glared at him. “Which one of us is the brat, now?”

  Other that that slight misbehavior, he was a complete gentleman for the rest of the meal.

  When the check came, Elizabeth made sure she had her debit card out – although she knew she would have to pray fervently to the Visa Gods that the charge would go through, since she only had about a dollar ninety-eight in her account, if that – and she grabbed for the little tray that the bill was on at the same time he did.

  But of course, he beat her to it, tsking at her for having the audacity to reach for it at all.

  “C’mon, let me pay for my meal, at least . . . I think I have enough money for that in my purse . . .”

  She could have predicted his answer. “Put your purse and your credit card away, Beth. You know better than to think that I’m going to let you pay for any part of dinner.”

  She knew he had been raised with very old-fashioned rules. He treated every woman like a lady – standing when she entered the room, holding car and other doors, always seeing to her comfort before his own.

  And definitely paying when they went out to eat. No questions asked.

  In some ways, it was a subtle protectiveness – and sometimes not so subtle – that had always made Elizabeth feel just as coddled and cosseted as he accused her parents of treating her.

  But why would being scolded like that make her lower body contract almost painfully? Liz didn’t know why, but it most certainly did. He practically had her orgasming without ever having to touch her.

  While the waitress took his card to run it through the machine, Liz was unable to stifle a yawn, which she quickly apologized for.

  He didn’t look appalled or affronted that she was yawning. Instead he gave her one of those low, smoldering looks that had her already throbbing nether regions near to bursting. When the waitress came back and he was through filling out the slip, he stood, extending his hand to her. “Let’s get you home and tucked into bed. You look exhausted.”

  Liz put her small hand in his big one, and his long fingers closed over hers. She stood, slowly and somewhat painfully, missing his concerned expression at the way she sucked her breath in as she rose.

  “Do you need me to carry you?” he didn’t quite ask, making Liz worry that he’d do something terribly embarrassing, like sweep her into his arms in the middle of the restaurant. She knew he’d do it in a heartbeat – with absolutely no consideration of how it might look – if he thought she needed the assistance.

  “No, no. I just get stiff sometimes when I’m in the same position for a while.” He didn’t look at all convinced, so she added, “It’s good for me to walk around.”

  He again tucked her into the passenger’s side of his big car, making sure her seatbelt was secure before he took the driver’s seat.

  The ride home was quiet and uneventful, neither of them feeling the need for chatter to fill the only slightly uncomfortable silence. When they had made it down the winding, sloping driveway, he told her to stay put and came around to help her out, seeing her wince as she did so.

  That was enough of that as far as he was concerned. He wasn’t about to let her continue to hurt when there was something he could do about it The next minute she was in his arms and he was stalking down the path that lead to the front door, somehow managing to produce his keys without even having to rummage in his pocket, and he had her safely ensconced in her upstairs bedroom in record time, lowering her onto the bed with infinite care, looking like he’d explode if he caused her to so much as draw a short breath.

  “What can I get you? Do you need some water? Do you have stronger pain meds?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine, really.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw and she knew he didn’t think she was telling him the truth.

  “Really. I’m just a little stiff, and I have a heating pad that will help -”<
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  “Where is it?” he commanded, already halfway to the bathroom.

  “I left it on the counter this morning,” she replied. As much as she didn’t want to admit it – especially not to him – she found she really was hurting and did her best to find a comfortable position, although she already knew that there wasn’t one. Lying on her left side was often the least painful position, so that was where she ended up, although she was rudely presenting her back to him.

  She could hear him plugging the pad in, but it would take a few minutes to warm up. Vidar, however, wasn’t about to let her just lie there in agony. He peeled back the covers he’d only just pulled over her and set about removing her jeans so he could get to her lower back – despite her protests, which he quelled with a threat of another spanking that Liz knew was a complete and utter lie. There was no way in hell he would spank her when she was already hurting like this. She could tell by his voice that he was very worried about her, and she already knew he hated to see her in pain. Except, perhaps, that which accompanied a thorough spanking. Why he had to make an exception for that, she’d never know. It just wasn’t right.

  Tenderly, he eased her arms from the sleeves of her shirt, then unhooked her bra, helping her to remove that as well, so that her entire back was exposed. Vidar stared down at her, barely able to keep himself under control, but knowing that he had to for her sake. She needed comfort now and relief from pain, not for him to try to ravish her when she was obviously experiencing so much discomfort.

  His hands were almost hot when they finally took possession of that creamy flesh just about mid-back, and she had no choice but to listen to his warm, chocolaty voice as he tried to soothe her both ways – audibly and with a surprisingly gentle massage that seemed to hit all of her most tender points in a manner that was just right. For a big man, he managed to be amazingly gentle with her.

  “I want you to try to relax, Beth.” He’d felt how tense she was when he’d first touched her and knew that it had nothing to do with the discomfort she was feeling, but rather her own nervousness whenever she was around him. He let his voice drop an octave or so, and continued to speak very softly, letting the rhythm of his words take over in an almost hypnotic fashion, and made the mental suggestion to her that the pain was ebbing and she was feeling sleepy.

  With his help, she was asleep within minutes. Vidar tucked her in, pulling the sheet and comforter up and over her and dimming the light on his way out of the room, standing for a long moment looking back at the rhythmic rise and fall of the blankets as she breathed. This wasn’t necessarily how he envisioned tonight ending; in some ways it was better and others it was definitely worse.

  He’d been aching for her all week…. Or rather, all his life, only now it was worse since he’d had a taste of her. One taste, that’s all it took and he was an addict. He would never get enough of her. He groaned, trying to think of something else, but knew nothing short of an ice cold shower was going to help. He had so hoped that this evening might have ended differently, but there was no way he was going to try to seduce her when she was in this much pain.

  Preventing injury was always easier than curing it, even for mortals. He gathered what he needed, some candles, herbs and small glass jars, to perform a healing ritual for her while she slept. It wouldn’t happen overnight. He would have to repeat it at least twice more, depending on the amount of inflammation remaining. Now that he was looking for it, he could see the faint scar running down her back from the base of her neck to just below the shoulder blades. The crazy girl! Did she know how close she had come to becoming a quadriplegic? He had warned her! Horseback riding was dangerous!

  But she loved it. He closed his eyes as the rest of the story – the part she hadn’t shared with him – became evident. The doctors had probably told her she could never ride again. Even if they hadn’t, the pain would have been excruciating. With the lack of food in the house, and how she’d come sneaking back into this cabin without even knowing who owned it, he realized that she was destitute. No wonder why she had anxiety attacks!

  Well, that ended now. He was furious with her for not contacting him when her money problems began… he was her godfather, for heaven’s sake! Although, he hoped to be much, much more now. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle this delicate situation, though. He wanted her with him because she loved him, and not because she had nowhere else to go.

  Well, healing her back would be a good place to start. And if he renewed the protection spells around her, he would even let her reopen her riding stables, if that was still what she wanted to do. He’d just make damn sure she never skipped a meal again!

  He wandered into the kitchen, tapping each of the cupboards. He tapped the refrigerator and freezer as well, and then began on the cupboards high above the rest. If he ever heard her tummy so much as grumble, she was going to regret it dearly.

  On a whim, just as he was stepping out of the kitchen, he flicked the tip of his index finger towards the end of the center counter and considered himself done, there anyway. Then he returned to the bed where she slept and carefully stretched out beside her. It was where he belonged, and where he would forever remain.

  Chapter Seven

  Liz yawned, stretching cautiously as she waited for the familiar pain to strike. Nothing happened! She stretched a bit more, glancing at the clock on the dresser. Five-thirty a.m. She had slept through the night without waking up for more pain pills, and still she wasn’t suffering this morning. It was amazing, is what it was.

  She rolled over, ready to thank Vidar for the fantastic backrub he had given her the night before, but was surprised to see that his side of the bed was empty. It was mussed like he had slept there at least for a while. She caressed the pillow where his head had lain, drew it closer and inhaled. It still smelled of him. Irish Spring soap blended with his own male scent, a pleasant odor she couldn’t quite place. Vidar just always smelled nice.

  So where was he at this hour of the morning? Maybe he was out getting groceries? She didn’t think there was a twenty-four hour store within fifty miles of here. Maybe he was just in his office.

  She pouted, wishing he were here! She needed him. She wanted him! But obviously, his need wasn’t as great, or nothing would have kept him from her bed. She shuddered, refusing to worry about their infant relationship until she’d had a chance to get to know him better. She would just grab a shower and try to pretend that she wasn’t dying here with need!

  It startled her yet again when she bent down to grab her discarded clothing from the floor that nothing hurt – anywhere! Her back felt like it had before the accident. It felt normal! Maybe it wouldn’t last, but she was going to enjoy it while it did.

  After her shower, she slipped into jeans, a sweatshirt and her pink bunny slippers and wandered into the kitchen more out of a force of habit than anything else. She knew there was no breakfast cereal, no milk, no Pop Tarts – her secret sin – or frozen waffles to be had. At best she might hope for cold, canned tuna for breakfast again this morning, and she was happy to have that.

  She was very pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a beautiful arrangement of multicolored roses in a lovely vase that looked like very expensive crystal from where it sat on the end of the island. She buried her nose in them, eagerly drinking in their luscious scent. How had he managed to do that? she wondered, but was unwilling to examine it too closely. The gift was very unexpected, and had her near tears.

  The aroma of fresh brewed coffee called to her, and she turned to see a pot on the warmer plate, and next to it, a bottle of her favorite creamer. How had he known? Oh, she might have said something at dinner last night, when the waitress asked if they wanted coffee with their dessert. She’d declined, telling Vidar that without her favorite creamer, coffee just didn’t taste good. But it still amazed her that not only had he heard her, but he remembered. She filled a thick mug, leaving enough room for the cream, then stirred the sweet concoction thoroughly until her coffee was the sha
de of coffee-flavored ice cream. She took a tiny sip, inhaling deeply, enjoying the warm vapors that curled around her nose.

  Vidar was so thoughtful!

  The coffee only awakened her hunger. She turned around, trying to drum up some interest in the tuna, but instead saw a box of her favorite Pop Tarts on the counter, with a small plate and the toaster all set out for her.

  Pop Tarts! He had bought her Pop Tarts! He hated Pop Tarts. He used to tell her and her mom that Pop Tarts had no nutritional value whatsoever, and it would be more nutritious if she ate the box they came in. But here he had bought her a full box of chocolate fudge brownie Pop Tarts! She tore open the package and deposited two of the sweet treats into the toaster.

  Curiosity drove her to check the refrigerator. Slowly she opened the door, feeling a bit like a kid on Christmas morning. A package of grapes tumbled out. She caught it before it hit the floor, but she was hard pressed to find room for it back in the fridge again. The stainless steel Frigidaire was packed to the hilt with every kind of good food imaginable. She saw milk and juice, fresh fruits and vegetables, packages of meat, cheese, eggs, butter, even some deli counter prepared salads and side dishes! There were condiments, specialty breads, sauces and seasonings, and all of it labeled either organic or whole grain or both.

  Closing that door, she went to the cupboards and began pulling them open one by one. There too, Vidar had worked his special brand of magic, for canned goods, packaged goods, and baking ingredients were stock-piled deep enough that she could probably manage to go for several months before she really had to shop again. How did he do that! She should be angry with him for his heavy-handed method, but all she felt was cherished.

  The toaster popped up her sugary breakfast. She grabbed it, dropping it onto the plate before she burned her fingertips, took her coffee and raced into the den to turn on some cartoons… just like the old days.

  A little while later she heard the office door open, then Vidar peered into the room. His hair was a mess, like he had rolled right out of bed and into the office without glancing in a mirror. It was adorable. “Did I wake you?” he asked solicitously.