Dante did turn toward her then. He had to see the truth in her eyes. When he spoke, each word was clipped, demanding.
“Why am I here?”
Elsa swung her feet to the ground and stood before he could stop her. She seemed steady enough that he left the distance between them. He did not trust himself to keep seeking answers if he was distracted by her touch.
“Because I couldn’t let you die.”
Dante could not help but think she must have had some other motive behind her actions. She had paid such a toll to bring him here. What would she expect of him in return?
She took several quick breaths, as if she was preparing to leap over some hurdle. When she spoke, the words rushed from her lips in a flood.
“I use my ability to go to other times and places to do research for the books I write. I was researching something else when I found you.”
“And decided to write this book of which Rachel spoke.”
“Yes.”
Elsa winced when the word left her lips, as if speaking it pained her. Despite his misgivings, Dante wanted to comfort her, but he would not allow himself to do so.
“If I hadn’t made that choice, I would never have discovered that I could save you,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“I was researching the book and I saw Mary and Edgar after the fire.” Elsa’s voice quieted, though the tension never left her slight frame. “When Edgar gave Mary the ring.”
Dante felt as though the ground shuddered beneath him. He had been confident that Mary would be all right. Knowing beyond doubt that she and Edgar had a chance to lead a happy life together removed a weight from Dante’s heart he hadn’t known he carried.
“Was she well?”
“Physically, she was fine. But she was so upset.” Elsa’s gaze became unfocused, as if she was seeing something far away. “She kept saying that they didn’t find your body. She refused to give up hope that you were still alive. And when I heard her say that, I knew. I knew I could save you. I had to.”
Elsa looked at him then, and the raw despair that flooded her features staggered him.
“I would have done anything to save you.”
She took a hesitant step toward him, but her legs gave way. He was not close enough to catch her before her knees struck the stone of the patio. She caught herself with her hands, but her arms trembled from holding her weight. Dante ran to her side, then knelt next to her. He drew her against his chest.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Elsa shook her head. “I’m just tired of being so…tired.” She took a deep breath and leaned against him.
Whatever else he believed, he knew that she had risked herself to bring him here. She was still paying the toll of that journey. He lifted her from the ground and carried her into the studio.
“I can walk.”
“I believe we have both seen that is not the case.”
The nearest chair was at the desk nestled against the wall of windows just inside the door. Dante set Elsa upon it as gently as he could. He knelt before her, turning over her hands to inspect her injuries. The soft skin of her palms had been roughly lacerated from the stonework of the patio.
“It’s nothing.”
Dante brushed the grit and pebbles from her hands as delicately as he could. “I am sorry that you fell.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I am not so certain of that. You would not be in this state if you had not brought me here, whatever your reasons. And I am grateful to be here.”
“I knew this was going to upset you. That’s part of why I was putting off telling you. I don’t deal well with conflict.”
She had that unfocused look about her again, and Dante wondered what horrible specters of the past she was seeing. He could not leave her there to face them alone.
“I am not of the opinion that ignorance is bliss, but rather, it is dangerous. If I am to adapt to this new world, there are things I need to know. Not the least of which is how others will react to my presence, given the legends that may be associated with me. I would rather you preserve my safety than my feelings.”
Elsa nodded. “I’ll do my best, but please try to understand, I’m not used to talking about any of this. It’s hard for me to share.”
“You have been alone with this for a very long time.” When Elsa tried to look away, Dante dared to cup her cheek with his hand, his thumb gently stroking the softness of her skin. “I will keep this in mind, so long as you also remember that, no matter what else happens, you are no longer alone.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away, smiling at Dante, though there were lines of strain at the corners of her lips.
“It’ll be hard to forget, since you insist on carrying me everywhere.” She lifted her hand to cover his and pressed her cheek into his palm. She tightened her grip for a moment, then pulled his hand away.
He knew she was making light of the situation, and he let her. There were weights she carried deep within her soul. The more time he spent with her, the more obvious they became.
Though he could not bring himself to smile, he did lift her from her chair, preparing to carry her to a more comfortable spot for her to rest. For the first time, she did not melt against him, but instead reached for something on her desk.
“Wait.”
Dante lowered her back into her chair and watched as she picked up a strange box. It was shaped somewhat like a book, but had cords coming out of it, which she promptly removed.
“Is that a computer?”
Despite what had just passed between them and the uncertainty he still felt, a surge of excitement flowed through him. He had read of computers and was eager to witness one in use.
“Yes, it is.” She picked it up and held it to her chest, then leaned forward as if she intended to stand.
“Elsa, please,” Dante said, using a tone more stern than he had ever dared with another. Her eyes widened slightly, but she paused and allowed him to pick her up once more.
Her skin was warm, her body soft against him. Even now, he ached to pull her closer. How could it be that holding her in his arms felt so natural, so right? The scent of roses came to him from her hair. Dante felt a sudden urge to bury his face in it, perhaps trail his fingers down her neck before placing a kiss on the graceful slope of her shoulder.
His voice came out unexpectedly low, with a rough tenor, when he managed to speak. “Where am I to take you?”
Elsa’s lips parted, her eyelids lowering briefly. For a moment, Dante wondered if her thoughts, her desire, had mirrored his own. But then, she cleared her throat, and said, “The entertainment room, please.”
When they arrived, he gently deposited her on the couch, though he was loathe to let her slip from his embrace.
“The movies you want are in that cabinet there.” She pointed to a shelf next to the large television.
“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 hi
m 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.
Wandering Soul Page 8
