Until Forever

by Johanna Lindsey

  And then she was kissing him deeply, and he was no longer uncooperative. In a second, he had complete control of that kiss, and though she’d intended to make it brief, he had other ideas about that.

  His tongue was as aggressive as he was, delving, toying with hers. Toying wasn’t the right word. There was a savageness about his kiss that proclaimed his hunger, and it must have struck a chord in her, because she was kissing him back with equal fervor, as if she couldn’t get enough of the taste of him.

  Roseleen had no idea how long that kiss went on. She was in a daze when it ended, and for the long moments it took her to catch her breath. Somehow, she’d ended up half on his lap with his arms holding her there. She was surprised only that she hadn’t been tossed into the backseat.

  Of course, Thorn wouldn’t know about the backseat of cars, and she’d sworn she’d never find out about them firsthand herself. If he had known, though, she couldn’t see herself objecting, and that frightened her. Considering how totally she’d been lost in that kiss, she could have been deflowered and not realized it until it was over with.

  She wouldn’t look directly into his eyes. She was afraid she’d still see the hunger there and go right back to kissing him.

  She managed to find her voice. “There, I think we’re both a bit more—relaxed.”

  Relaxed just wasn’t the word for what she was feeling now. Nonetheless, she tried getting off his lap, but he wasn’t releasing her.

  She had to look at him now. Thankfully, the fires in his eyes were banked—somewhat. But his gaze was still intense, too intense for her to hold it for long.

  “We need to be going, Thorn.”

  “What I need—”

  “Don’t say it,” she cut in quickly before he could. “I kissed you to get your mind off the car, but our bargain still stands.”

  “Nay, it does not stand the same, for I am touching you, with my hands.” His hips suddenly moved against her buttocks before he added, “With my body. You will have your questions answered, but you will not deny me again, what you have yourself just invited.”

  She was blushing profusely by the time he finished. He was right; by kissing him, she had invited his touch—at least he was going to see it that way, no matter what she might say to the contrary. So it would be pretty hypocritical of her to tell him again to keep his hands off her, but she’d have to. Just not right now.

  “We’ll discuss that later. Let me go now, so I can drive us home.”

  He did, instantly, and she made quick work of getting back behind the wheel. As for getting them onto the road, that went very slowly. And she didn’t glance his way to see how he was taking it this time. She’d just as soon not know.

  It wasn’t until a few minutes later, with the wind stirring her hair, that she realized she wasn’t wearing her glasses, and her hair was hanging down her back. Again, he’d taken off her glasses and freed her hair, and without her even knowing it. She imagined her glasses had probably been tossed out the open window. She tried to remember if she’d brought another pair with her, but couldn’t recall packing one.

  Not that it really mattered. It was just his high-handedness that she found so vastly annoying. He didn’t like her glasses, so the moment he’d had an opportunity to get rid of them, he’d done so, and to hell with what she had to say about it. But then that was so typically medieval. Women’s opinions hadn’t counted for beans back then. Men had made all the decisions, controlled every aspect of their lives.

  She shouldn’t be annoyed. Thorn was merely being himself, a medieval male. Just because he’d been summoned into the twentieth century didn’t mean he was going to change any of his habits or be any less domineering than he—

  She’d been so distracted by her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed the vehicle coming down the road at them. Oh, God, a truck. A big truck. She’d forgotten to tell Thorn that these power-driven horseless carriages came in different shapes and sizes. And a swift glance at him showed his tension was back, and even worse, his fingers were wrapped white-knuckled around the hilt of his dagger.

  “Close your eyes,” she suggested.

  She hadn’t really expected him to do it, but he did. It didn’t seem to relieve his tension, only seemed to make it worse, so she quickly added, “It’s not going to hit us. It’s just going to pass us on the other side of the road and be gone in a few seconds.”

  “Roseleen, release me.”

  Oh, God, why hadn’t she thought of that, to spare him this terror? “All right, you can go. I’ll call you again when there aren’t any—”

  “I thank you,” he said stiffly, “yet ’tis my eyes that needs be released.”

  “What?” He didn’t repeat himself, and the truck sped past them, taking her own anxiety with it. “You can open your eyes now, Thorn. It’s gone.”

  His eyes opened, and he turned to glare at her. “Never deny me again the opportunity to face danger, woman. Wouldst you make of me a coward?”

  “What are you talking about? And why didn’t you go when I gave you permission?”

  “For what reason would I leave, when you are here?”

  14

  The dining room was a picture of old-world elegance. Dark wine fabric adorned the walls, overlaid with rich mahogany wainscoting. Candlelight reflected off hundreds of prisms in the large chandelier overhead, the crystal glasses, the polished silverware. Mrs. Humes had outdone herself, because Roseleen had told her there would be a guest for dinner.

  Roseleen was sitting across from that guest now, and feeling much more at ease. He’d wanted to explore the house when they finally got to it, and she’d agreed—up to a point. She hadn’t wanted him to find the kitchen, with its wealth of electrical appliances, and it had been a chore, steering him away from that area.

  Thankfully, the rest of the house was very old-fashioned. So it wasn’t very different from what Thorn had experienced at his last summoning. What he was most fascinated by was the light switches. He wouldn’t pass through a room without turning them off and on a number of times. The television he’d walked by, barely noticing it. She wasn’t about to turn it on for him. Maybe in a few days, once he was more comfortable with this time period, but not so soon after the harrowing car ride.

  She might have been able to keep the television and stereo system off, but she’d forgotten about the telephone. It had rung while they were passing it, and Roseleen had automatically picked it up and started talking. It had been David, calling to let her know that he was flying to France to meet Lydia for the weekend.

  Thorn had stared at her through the whole conversation—hearing only her end of it, of course, which had prompted a twenty-minute explanation after she’d hung up, about the wonders of communication, and how people could now talk to others who were far away, even on the other side of the world. He’d looked at the thin wire connecting the receiver to the unit, then the equally thin wire connecting the unit to the wall jack, and snorted. He wasn’t buying it.

  Modern plumbing, however, he’d accepted without a hitch, at least he did after he’d flushed the toilet about ten times, and burned his finger under the hot-water faucet. The shower he’d wanted to try out immediately. She’d managed to convince him to wait until after dinner. As for the portable hair dryer that he’d picked up and turned on before she could explain its use, well, it was now in the rubbish can, quite broken from its crash to the floor.

  Now she watched him handling a knife and fork by her example, and she couldn’t help smiling. He was doing quite well, actually. At least he’d been willing to try it her way. For someone who was used to eating poultry gripped in his fist, that was saying a lot.

  “You have mentioned Americans—twice now,” he said around a mouthful of Yorkshire pudding. “What are they?”

  He’d been so avidly interested in the food on the table, in everything on the table, for that matter, including the salt and pepper shakers, that she hadn’t expected dinner conversation from him. The subject he’d brought up see
med harmless enough for their digestion though.

  “Americans are the people who took over North America and wrested it from English control,” she explained. “Afraid you missed that war too.”

  He gave her a sour look for that. She laughed. She’d actually just teased him and gotten away with it. She must be feeling more comfortable with him, to have even dared. And that was surprising, considering the last remark he’d made in the car.

  For what reason would I leave, when you are here?

  She’d gone utterly still, not because she’d lost control of him and their bargain, if he really had no intention of leaving, but because of the way it made her feel, hearing those words. Frightened and elated, a complete contradiction in emotions. But then he’d been confounding her emotions ever since his first appearance.

  She shied away from delving too deeply into the reasons for that, and to get her mind off it, she decided to get him to appease her curiosity about another matter. She still had so many questions, about his sword and its unusual powers.

  “By the way, Thorn, why would the last owner of the sword think he would be damned if the sword should fall into the hands of a woman?”

  His eyes lifted from his plate a bit, just enough to see her, and if she’d ever seen a smug, self-congratulatory grin, that Viking was wearing it. “My warning must have worked with Jean Paul.”

  “Jean Paul?”

  “The oldest son of the last woman who gained possession of my sword. She was dying. He was due to inherit Blooddrinker’s Curse.”

  He was making light of it. He even shrugged. She wasn’t going to let it drop.

  “Do you have that power, to actually damn someone?” she asked.

  He merely smiled. Was he teasing her now? Was a Viking capable of teasing?

  “Stupid question,” she said, more to herself than to him. “You assured me you’re not a god.” And then another thing occurred to her. “Does the sword give me any other powers that I should know about?”

  The smile he’d been wearing went from pleasant to positively beaming. “It did.”

  “Did? Not does?” She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The power was yours to command me. I could not lie to you, hurt you, or refuse to do your bidding. Thus did you have complete control over me.”

  She stared at him incredulously. No wonder he had closed his eyes in the car when she’d told him to, and literally had had to get permission from her to open them again. The thought of having this Viking utterly in her control was mind-boggling. But he was speaking in the past tense.

  Her eyes narrowed on him suspiciously. “Are you telling me that I had that power, but now I don’t?”

  It seemed impossible, but now his smile was even more smug and triumphant. “Indeed. When you released me, you lost that power over me.”

  Roseleen sat back with a sigh. She ought to be angry that she’d missed out on something like that, and also that he hadn’t bothered to mention it sooner. But of course he wouldn’t volunteer that kind of information. Why should he? She had been worried about bargaining with him, while all along, he would have been compelled to do anything she told him to do. Yes, she ought to be angry, but she wasn’t, because she didn’t really want that kind of power over him or anyone else. But having him released from it…

  She had to wonder now what else he wasn’t bothering to mention. “Are there any other powers related to the sword that I should know about?”

  “That you should know about? Nay, all other powers are mine.”

  “Like what?”

  He put his fork and knife down before he said, “Give me the sword, and I will show you.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Sarcasm that blatant was kind of hard to miss, no matter what century you came from. “You have a reason to deny me even temporary use of the sword?”

  He sounded offended, so she replied carefully, “Don’t get me wrong, Thorn, but you are able to leave now whenever you like, and I have only your word for it that the sword won’t leave with you. I’d rather not put your truthfulness to the test quite that way, if you don’t mind.”

  “Think you that I would lie to you?”

  “You didn’t lie to Jean Paul about damning him for all eternity?” she countered.

  After a long, disconcerting moment in which she couldn’t believe she’d said that, and he apparently couldn’t either, he was suddenly laughing. He even picked up his glass of wine and offered her a silent toast.

  And to enlighten her as to the cause of his humor, he said, “Methinks I like it that you do not believe me.”

  Roseleen blinked. “You do? Why?”

  “I am under no compulsion to answer that.”

  She frowned at that answer, and that pleased-with-himself grin that he was sporting again, until it occurred to her, “You’re getting even with me for teasing you, aren’t you? Go ahead, you might as well admit it.”

  “Roseleen, were I to ‘get even’ with you, you wouldst not be in doubt of it.”

  She was definitely getting annoyed with him, and she wasn’t even sure why.

  “Just how would you get even with me, then?”

  That had him laughing again. She started drumming her nails against the table, her annoyance rising several notches. He noticed, stared at her fingers for a moment, then his eyes came slowly to hers with an intensity that stilled her immediately.

  “Mayhap I should show you,” he suggested, his voice husky and sensual.

  It became instantly clear how he’d get even with her. He’d dominate her sexually, totally. He’d make mush of her will, until she was eager to do anything he wanted, and she knew now just how easily he could do that. She was rendered breathless just imagining it.

  “Stop it,” she said.

  One of his brows quirked slightly. “What?”

  She considered changing the subject. She really ought to. But that feigned innocent look he was giving her brought back some of her annoyance.

  “You know exactly what. I’ve asked you not to look at me like that.”

  “Do all women of your time expect their men to do their bidding?”

  Talk about a loaded question. There were a dozen ways she could answer it. She decided the safest route was not even to try.

  “Never mind that. We had a bargain. Are you going to honor it?”

  “The bargain included not looking at you? Odd, that I have no recollection of that.”

  He was toying with her and apparently enjoying it. And he hadn’t answered her question. She was starting to get a little nervous. She really should have changed the subject, but it was too late now.

  “The bargain, Thorn. Will you honor it?”

  “Did you?”

  The blush came, and with it, some indignation. “I was trying to relieve some of your tension and stress”—damn, he wouldn’t know what stress was—“to help you get through your first car ride. I even gave you permission to leave so you wouldn’t have to endure it anymore, when I swore I wouldn’t. I think you should be thanking me instead of giving me grief.”

  “Thank you,” he said with a brief, really condescending nod.

  She realized then that he was deliberately not answering her. He wasn’t going to. He was going to leave her wondering, and nervous, and…She glared at him. He gave her a smile in return.

  Dinner, of course, was ruined for her, her appetite replaced by a knot of consternation in her belly, or was it…? No! She was not pleased that he considered himself no longer restrained from taking whatever he wanted.

  She stood up, bracing her hands against the table as she leaned forward. “I hope you remember what I said about the law, and what is and isn’t permissible around here, because I’m going on record right now in telling you to keep your distance from me. And don’t ask me to elaborate, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you’re going to help me with my research, I’ll meet you in the library in one hour. If not, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my ho
use.”

  She had to congratulate herself on getting that out through the growing lump in her throat. She didn’t think he’d stay, despite what he’d said earlier, and her disappointment was choking her again.

  Had she thought about it, she’d know that the lost opportunity for research material couldn’t possibly account for the emotional turmoil she was presently experiencing. But she didn’t think about it. She merely noted as she left the room that he made no reply at all.

  15

  It was one of the worst hours Roseleen had ever spent, waiting to see if Thorn would leave or if he’d show up in the library. She tortured herself by not going to the library to wait for him, where he might have shown up sooner than at the end of the appointed hour—if he was going to—and relieved her mind about it. She locked herself in her room instead, and paced, and berated herself over and over again for giving him an ultimatum like that.

  When was she going to get it right, in her dealings with him, that he wouldn’t think like a twentieth-century man, or react like one? It was no wonder he hadn’t answered her. She’d probably shocked him again with what he would consider her outlandish audacity. Women in his day just didn’t make demands or issue orders to men, not unless they were wearing crowns and sitting on thrones.

  When she finally dragged herself downstairs to the small library at the end of that hellish hour, she found it dark, but that was no more than she’d been expecting. Even if he’d wanted to stay, he would have gone, just to prove that he wouldn’t be dictated to by—

  “Where is the switch to supply the light, Roseleen? I could not find its location.”

  She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. With the light from the hall behind her, she located Thorn in one of the three easy chairs the room contained. She quickly crossed to him and turned on the reading lamp next to his chair. Her heart was pounding hard, and not just from the shock he’d given her, but also from his presence.