To Eternity

by Daisy Banks

  “I think I understand.” She crossed the room to put her arms around him. “This is one of the things you hate most isn’t it?”

  He drew a deep breath. “Indeed. I have always found the loss of those who I like and enjoy a wicked part of my condition. After Nathaniel, I told myself there would be no more.” He bowed his head until his forehead rested heavy on hers.

  “I think we make a pact, Magnus. I’m not going to mention the manipulative ex-boss,”—she angled her head so she could look into his eyes—“and you aren’t going to tell me anymore horrible things about who and what you are.”

  He raised his head. “Am I as bad as that?”

  She nodded. “Sometimes.”

  “I didn’t realize.”

  “I know. I think it’s because you’ve never really spoken about it to anyone. Or not for a long time, at least. Now you can’t stop.”

  “Whoo.” He blew out a long breath. “Your wisdom astonishes me. I accept your pact. I’ll not mention any negatives again, no matter the provocation.”

  She clutched him and squeezed. “We’ll have some days where we can be us, just us.”

  He clasped her tight, tugging her closer against him, covering her lips with his. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in his kiss, pressed her body hard against him to relish the way he could overturn any thoughts but those of making love.

  He pressed small warm kisses along her jaw until he reached her ear. “I promise, while we are in Wales, we will speak of us, the future, and love.”

  A thrill shook through her with the warmth of his whisper. She looked up, met the tenderness in his glance, and suddenly nothing else in the world mattered.

  “The sooner we leave, the better.”

  She nodded. She ached for him and could think of nothing else. Until the physical need was satiated, everything else could wait.

  * * * *

  The utter blackness of the November night kept her eyes focused on the beam from the Range Rover’s headlights. Magnus stroked her inner thigh, as the automatic gears didn’t need his help. The tender caresses sensitized her skin. She wished she’d not worn leggings. If he didn’t stop soon, she’d demand he pull over to soothe her potent desire for his touch. The car climbed the road into the mountains. Hopeful she didn’t appear too anxious for more of him, she murmured, “Is there much farther to go?”

  His smile caged her heart and sent a flash of palpitations through to her loins.

  “A little longer, half an hour maybe, perhaps a little more,” he said, as they rounded a sharp bend in the road. He glanced to her with a wry smile. “I’d prefer to use manual from here on in, so you’ll have to wait for me.”

  No other person ever read her mood, mind, and thoughts the way he did. She would wait for him for however long it took. Nothing but Magnus mattered. She traced a finger over the links and gems following the Greek key design. Magnus and she were like the bracelet, intertwined, bound beyond separation. She raised her glance to him but kept the words inside. He might hear the thought anyway.

  His profile, as he studied the dark road ahead, brought the images of castle towers and knights of old to mind. She smiled at the sheer folly of such romancing. Their relationship had its own dragons to deal with, or creatures like Franklyn, in man or wolf-form.

  She shuffled in her seat, adjusted the belt, concentrated on the darkness outside the windows and the branches of trees lit briefly by the headlights as the car passed. There must be something, other than the rash of worries, to focus on during their journey.

  “Oh,” she whispered when Magnus slowed the car and pulled into a tree-lined driveway. “You said the place was a cottage.”

  He glanced across with a grin. “My father always referred to this as ‘the cottage,’ and the name stuck.”

  A round tower loomed ahead. The massive construction of stone and mortar had a crenellated top. Several small vertical windows were lit by the car’s headlights. “But, Magnus, this is a castle.”

  “No, this is what is known as a castellated tower. The Welsh borders have many of them. The people who lived during the era when the tower was erected preferred the protection of good solid walls.” He turned the ignition off, leaned across, and kissed her.

  Sian cupped his jaw with her palms, unwilling to allow this kiss to be a short and simple affair. Her heart took up a quickened beat, her nipples throbbing as he stroked down her back. She ached for more of his caresses.

  “Soon.”

  The thought echoed in her mind as Magnus lifted his mouth from hers. “It’s cold out here. We’ll be warmer indoors.”

  He got out of the Range Rover, walked to her side, and opened her door. She stepped out into his embrace.

  “I hope you enjoy this place.”

  Something in his glance to the tower showed her the importance of being here. “You’ll need to tell me the story behind the cottage.”

  “I will, but not now. We’ll go in. I’ll fetch the bags.” He released her and opened the car to take out their luggage. “The key will be under the blue flowerpot. Could you get it?”

  She walked across the dark flagstones, and in the dim light from a lamp above the door, lifted a small blue flowerpot filled with winter heather. A key, the like of which she’d never seen, sat there as he’d said. The enormous lump of iron she picked up weighed heavy in her palm. “Wow. This must be handmade.”

  Magnus nodded as he set the bags down in the porch and accepted the key from her. “Yes, I’ve never thought about it, but you’re right. I think it probably dates back to sometime in the sixteenth century.”

  “That old?”

  He smiled so the crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. “Yes, that old.” He bent, angling his head, and kissed her. A hundred thoughts spun away from the age of the place when his lips teased hers.

  “Was this place home to your parents?”

  He shook his head. “Not home, a retreat if you will. They used it as a hunting lodge for some time.”

  “Hunting?”

  “Yes.” He turned the key in the lock and pushed the nail-studded slab of oak open. “Come in.”

  She held his dark gaze for what seemed like an age. The invitation to enter here held a special kind of magic, something she sensed deep inside her. “Happily.”

  Magnus flipped on a light switch. She entered a circular room and inhaled the scent of polish and flowers, both mingling with the mysterious fragrance of aged oak. Dark wood paneling covered the lower half of the walls. A wide stone hearth with a curved fire back contained logs arranged above kindling in the fire basket. Nearby stood a large brass, banded bucket contained more. Red drapes hung at the small windows and at two doorways set in arches, recessed in the wall.

  “Roses.” She stepped across the rug to an ebony table where she reached out to caress one of the velvety, blood-red blooms in a cut crystal vase.

  He set their bags down with a smile. “Yes, there should be wine cooling, too, perhaps in the kitchen. I’ll go and check.” He crossed the room to go through a door.

  As she unzipped her jacket, the distinctive pop of a champagne cork came from another room. The impression of a special occasion thrilled her, and a spark of excitement gave way to a wedge of anticipation. There was more to being here than just an escape from Franklyn, or taking a few days to relax. He hadn’t told her everything, and she’d not felt his thoughts since she crossed the threshold.

  Magnus returned carrying a tray, loaded with ice bucket, and two champagne glasses. He set the tray on the table, poured, and handed her a glass. A moment later he lifted his in salute. “To you.”

  She sipped a mouthful of the heady fizz. “Thank you.”

  “You have no need to thank me. I’ll light the fire.” He set his glass back on the tray and moved to the hearth. The scratch of matches was followed by small bright flames that crept
up along the kindling to play on the first of the piled logs.

  She breathed a sigh as the firelight warmed the room with its glow. The tangy scent of pine smoke reached her. “This is an incredible place.”

  Magnus turned to her from the hearth. “I had hoped you would find it so.”

  His eyes, for the briefest second, appeared as she’d seen them in his wolf-form, and a rush of emotion hit her full-on, so she swayed, reaching for the solid table. This place was linked to them becoming a permanent couple. “I want to be your mate.”

  He held her gaze. One of the logs crackled. “I know.”

  Chapter 18

  Franklyn reread the text from Sian, and the brutality of it punched into his gut again. Despite the drink, he’d dreamed about the words last night until he roused sweating. He’d forced himself to calm down and go back to sleep. When he woke to bright light pouring through the drapes, he’d half hoped the message might be part of his nightmare, but no. The screen proclaimed it true.

  Unable to meet in person. I will be away.

  I’ll send you an e-mail with all the details you’ll need regarding the completed Timeless film. Evie has all other necessary information for you. Richard will have a copy to you ASAP.

  I’ll take it my contract with you is complete.

  Sian.

  He closed the text. She’d burned her bridges and left him with ashes. The sheer audacity of the girl! Being madam at Darnwell had gone to her head completely. Damn waiting another week to return to work—he’d go to the office today to find out what damage she’d done in the time he’d been ill.

  How much did she expect him to take? Disbelief rolled through him that she could leave him in such a way after all he’d done for her. He’d never realized until now how selfish and thoughtless she could be. For years, he’d treasured her, cosseted her, but all the time he’d cared, she’d given nothing back. His illness had led to more than one discovery.

  The desire for her would never vanish, but it didn’t matter anymore. He’d lived with it so long, the need felt like a piece of jewelry he always wore, its weight a part of himself. Today, she’d broken the chains binding him to her. Still, he’d fuck her stupid given the chance, any chance at all, in the dreams or reality. But she wouldn’t be the only one he’d want from today. Never again.

  When Johansson dumped her, which no doubt he would as soon as he’d gotten bored, she’d come running back to the city. She would beg to return to Gorsewell Productions. But she’d have to wait her turn for his attention and be on her best behavior to get anything except the lowest filing job. Somehow, he’d force himself to stay away from her no matter how sorry she seemed.

  A fresh wave of anger savaged him at the heartless text. She would never make a fool of him again. If she was too dumb to see what she could have had, instead of burying herself in the country with a thug, it wasn’t his fault. She had the chance for the kind of relationship most women screamed for, and turned it down in favor of a reclusive freak with more personality problems than a psych ward.

  Thumping the stick with each step, he paced back and forth in his hotel room as though in a cage. The need to move, a demand to be active, raced through him despite the limp. He wanted the taste of fresh air. Though each time he’d ventured out, he could hardly call the air fresh. The thick soup of scents tantalized him. Every breath brought all kinds of information he’d never known existed. Like a boy with his first taste of girl flesh, he wanted more. The impact of Sian’s message galvanized his need.

  He’d get a cab over to the office, call in and say hi to Evie. Yes, he would go now.

  Grabbing his jacket, keys, wallet, and phone, he hurried out of his hotel room. He took the elevator down to the lobby where the concierge beckoned to a waiting taxi.

  The cab driver eyed him through the rear view mirror as the taxi made its way through late lunchtime traffic to the office. Admittedly, most of the cabbie’s clients wouldn’t sit with the window all the way down, but he couldn’t resist taking repeated gulps of the odor-laden air. He smiled at a dog in the backseat of a car in the opposite lane doing the same thing. People didn’t know what they were missing.

  The taxi slowed in front of the office block. He yanked a couple of notes from his wallet and thrust them to the driver. “Keep the change.”

  He made his way slowly up the steps, but not as slow as he would have been moving three days ago. Somehow, the healing process continued. He sucked in a deep breath of city-rich air, then walked into the lobby where he took the elevator to the twelfth floor. The doors swished open. The logo of Gorsewell Productions emblazoned in eighteen inch gold lettering welcomed him back. Nothing had changed, except for one empty office across the hall from his own. He wrenched his gaze from the small section of the door that showed through the greeting glass panel. Sian wasn’t coming back.

  The doors to the reception area opened at his approach. He glowered at the empty reception desk. Where the hell was Evie?

  The clatter of a book hitting the floor made him turn. Evie stood in the doorway of one of the offices, open-mouthed. She flicked at the droopy mass of spiked fair hair on her forehead. “Mr. Gorsewell. Oh, my, we didn’t expect to see you for months.”

  “You know I don’t like the reception desk left empty. You’ve got an assistant to do the menial tasks.”

  She bent to retrieve the dropped sign-in book, looked up from where she crouched, and flashed her baby blues. She stood, paced across to the desk on teetering glossy pink heels, and took her place. “Yes, sir. I know. Jess is out of the office at a medical appointment, sir. Mr. Astle wanted to see the desk book for a few moments.”

  “Then he should have dragged his sorry ass out here and not called you into his office.”

  “Yes, Mr. Gorsewell. I do apologize. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  He studied her raspberry-red cashmere sweater where it clung skin-tight to her rounded breasts. Were those silicone or not? Whilst mulling on that, he counted four links in the chunky necklace she wore. When her neck grew flushed, he raised his gaze. Her face, filled with such abject sincerity above the offering of her tightly swathed breasts, held a certain charm. He gave her a small smile. “I understand, Evie. I’ve been away and things have gotten sloppy. I’ll have you back to your best performance by the end of the day. You can count on it.”

  Her peachy-glossed lips curved in a half-smile as she nodded. She took a very deep breath.

  He fixed his gaze on the rise of her peaked nipples beneath the fine weave mesh of her sweater. “Good. Is Richard in my office or his own?”

  “His office, sir. He’s taking a call from the client in Chicago.”

  “I’ll go in now. I want you to have all the information on the Timeless stats, plus initial identified post production concerns, and all you have on the next project ready in one file and emailed to me in half an hour. Right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  That lower lip of hers appealed, was cute in the way it trembled after she spoke. “Good. I’ve missed you, cherub.”

  She batted the mass of her mascara-coated lashes. “We’ve all missed you, too, sir.”

  “I bet you have. Coffee in fifteen minutes in my office. I’ll have finished my discussion with Mr. Astle by then.” He limped across to Richard’s office. Not too much damage seemed to have occurred in his absence. Evie could be licked back into shape quickly.

  Very tasty.

  “Franklyn!” Richard came around from behind his desk with a smile and offered his hand. “I didn’t know you’d be back today. How are you?”

  “Improved.” He shook Richard’s hand. “How are things here?” Rather than use the stick for support he leaned against the set of drawers by the door.

  “Ticking along. You know the Timeless project is complete. I’ve not long gotten back here from the hotel outside Darnwell.”

 
“Yes. What’s happening with the next?”

  “I’ve, this minute, finished speaking with Karl. Everything is going to plan other than the exact venue for the shoot. I’ve been waiting in the hope of talking to you to finalize the arrangements.”

  “I know.” He frowned.

  “There wasn’t much we could do about it, sir. The Darnwell house is unavailable for any more photo shoots. I’m afraid Mr. Johansson is implacable. I’ve managed to find another country house, and I hope you’ll agree it’s suitable. It’s an unusual property, but it has the water features you wanted plus some mature woodland for the animal shots.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Somewhere new?”

  Richard grinned. “Oh, yes. It’s in commuting distance, too, so we won’t have the expense of hotels for the crew. The owner is very amenable. I think you’ll like the place.”

  “If I do, then I’ll say well done and you’ll get your bonus a few weeks early.”

  “Thanks, Franklyn. I’ve got some still shots of the house and grounds in my files. Shall I mail them through to you?”

  “Yes. I’ll take a look at them today.”

  “Are you staying the rest of the day with us?”

  “I’ll be here till four. I’ve decided I’m returning but I’ll take things steady the first ten days. Ten till four the rest of this week. I’ll get in a little earlier next.”

  Richard shook his head with a smile. “There’s no stopping you.”

  “I think you might be right there.”

  “I’ll e-mail the images through to you now.”

  Franklyn stood upright from leaning on the top of the set of drawers and moved to the door. “I want the details of the advertising you’ve set up since I’ve been gone and the responses we’ve had. The company needs more work.”