Until Forever

by Johanna Lindsey

  And now that she was finally meeting the great man himself, all she could think to do was nod her head and say reverently, “Your Majesty.”

  He laughed. “Not yet, my lady—but soon.”

  She blushed profusely over her blunder, though it was a natural mistake. He did end up as the King of England, after all, and so all the history books ended their accounts of him by calling him that.

  “My lord, wouldst you lend the lady your protection whilst I locate my squire?”

  “Certainly, Thorn, and bring the lad here when you find him. I would you sailed with me on the Mora, since you tend to disappear when I do not keep you close. Guy of Anjou brought his fears to me, that something dire had happened to you when he could not find you. You will have to tell us what you have been about.”

  Thorn merely nodded to William, squeezed Roseleen once before he let her go, and then abruptly walked away, leaving her in the duke’s care. She had no idea what excuse he would give later for his absence these last weeks. He couldn’t exactly say he’d returned to Valhalla where he resided between summonings, although a tale like that might be treated as if it were a tall tale for the amusement of all. But William was still going to want to hear something more reasonable, or he wouldn’t have mentioned it.

  However, Roseleen wasn’t going to worry about that, when she couldn’t believe the opportunity this presented for her. To have William of Normandy’s attention for however long was just what she had hoped for when she had agreed to go time traveling with Thorn. The things that he could tell her about himself that had never been documented before, his hopes, his plans, those realized and those never fulfilled—this was the stuff that was going to make her own book unique. And she had him all to herself because his ever-present retainers and followers were otherwise occupied at the moment.

  In terms of historical research, the time Roseleen spent with William was wasted, other than to learn that it was indeed September 27. She asked a few questions, but the minute he gave her a strange look, as if he wondered why she was so curious, she backed off. They’d done too much tampering with history for her to take any more chances, especially with someone who had had such an effect on history himself. All it would take was for something she said to occur to him at some later point, for him to remark on it to someone else, or whatever, and all kinds of possible changes might take place again.

  It wasn’t worth the risk, she decided. Just being here would have to suffice. After all, details were also important, and she would now be able to describe this period and the people in it with vivid detail, having experienced it all firsthand. That she wasn’t going to obtain any otherwise unknown facts was a disappointment she’d just have to live with.

  34

  It was evening before Thorn returned to the Mora, with Guy of Anjou in tow. Roseleen had been glued to the railing, watching for him, since she had begun to worry as it neared the time of sailing. As it was, they arrived only fifteen minutes before the ship cast off, which didn’t put her in a very receptive mood. Had he not returned in time, she would have been forced to leave the ship as well, with no idea of where to start looking for him.

  Guy didn’t appear to be a bit happy to see Roseleen again—they hadn’t exactly hit it off on their first meeting—but her sentiments toward him had changed due to an abundance of sympathy, after she’d learned what had likely happened to his sister. If she had died as Thorn assumed, Guy didn’t even know it yet, wouldn’t know it for some time to come, because news traveled so slowly in these times, and whether that could be counted a blessing was subject to the individual and the circumstance.

  So as soon as she had the chance to, she apologized to Guy for her previous behavior, though it didn’t seem to make any difference to the boy. His attitude was still I’m-a-man-therefore-more-important-than-you, which she was never going to agree with.

  Thorn was amused by the exchange, though she couldn’t tell it by his stoic expression. However, she knew him well enough by now to know he was chuckling on the inside, that slight twinkle in his blue eyes a dead giveaway, and she didn’t appreciate that either.

  She supposed her failed interview with Duke William was the major contributor to her now sour mood, though the worry she had undergone in thinking Thorn wasn’t going to get back to the ship in time was the icing on the cake. So she was rather pleased to find that Sir Reinard de Morville would also be sailing on the Mora.

  Since she had no desire to speak to Thorn anytime soon, or at least not until her annoyance with him lessened somewhat, she was relieved to discover that there was someone else on board with whom she was acquainted, however slightly. She was flattered that he came over to her the very second he noticed her. Sir Reinard was a very handsome man, after all, and it wouldn’t hurt Thorn to see that men other than himself and his other self were interested in her.

  But it didn’t take long for her to discover that Sir Reinard was a bit too interested. His opening remarks of “What do you here, demoiselle? Nay, it matters not. I will not let you disappear so easily this time,” should have given her some warning.

  But she was still too pleased at that point that the knight was there, and merely replied, “I’m not going anywhere, at least not until we reach England, and even then, I will likely stay very close to the ship, if I’m even allowed off it. And it’s good to see you again, Sir Reinard. Have you rescued any other damsels lately?”

  She was merely teasing, but he took her seriously. “Nay, and ’twould not be nearly as satisfying did I do so—unless you need rescuing again?”

  His forming his reply as a question made her laugh. “Do I appear to need rescuing?”

  She was about to revise that answer when she noticed Thorn glowering at her, but she also missed Reinard’s disappointed look. She heard his sigh, however, as he replied first, “A pity. To have your gratitude again would be worth any hardship.”

  It was at that point that she suspected the man wasn’t just being gallant, and that he was somewhat smitten with her. It was the way he was looking at her now, with such soulful yearning in his eyes, all of which was very flattering, but she was in love with—

  Oh, God, she’d just admitted it to herself, when she’d been trying so hard to avoid even thinking about it. She was in love with that Viking. Yet it was hopeless. Yes, he’d said he would stick around, but the fact was, he was from a realm that she couldn’t begin to understand. He might not have aged much because of that realm, but he’d still been born more than a thousand years ago, still had a brother, living or ghostly, that the world knew as a mythical Viking god, and still had some kind of mystical control over the weather that defied reality as much as his very existence did.

  And how would Thorn ever fit into her world on a permanent basis? It would take a full lifetime for him to grasp the intricacies of the late twentieth century and update his thinking and attitudes. And the truth was, she didn’t want to change him. She’d fallen in love with who he was now, foolishly, and certainly not by choice.

  And his profession and greatest pleasure was fighting. He would grow bored so very quickly without any wars for him to fight in, and any wars that he might find eventually wouldn’t entail his kind of fighting.

  It wouldn’t be fair of her to ask him to stay with her permanently when he would do better to return to Valhalla, where at least others of his kind resided and entertained each other by testing their skills in the Viking tradition. He’d be happy there and would forget about her soon enough, she was sure. And she would…

  She wasn’t going to think about trying to survive without ever seeing him again. She was already so depressed in admitting her feelings for him that she suddenly felt like crying. And there he was across the deck, glowering at her because she was merely talking to another man.

  “Will you share a trencher with me, demoiselle?” Reinard asked her.

  “What?”

  Roseleen brought her attention slowly back to her onetime rescuer and tried to offer him a smile,
though it came out pretty weak.

  “A trencher?” he repeated hopefully.

  It took her a moment to concentrate and recall what a trencher was. Ah yes, what passed for the medieval dinner plate—a large scooped-out loaf of day-old bread. And men and women did frequently share them, the more gallant knights even feeding the ladies the choicest portions of whatever fare was served.

  In her distraction, she hadn’t even noticed that the evening meal was being served, but it certainly was, and in typical medieval fashion, in abundance. But then it was a well-known fact that Duke William had presided over a feast this night. Also well-known was what happened while the feast was in progress—at least, well-known to anyone who had studied this time period.

  Roseleen couldn’t mention to anyone that she knew the Mora had probably by now wandered off course to become completely separated from the rest of the fleet. Had the previous English king Edward the Confessor not dispensed with England’s permanent fleet that patrolled the Channel because it became too costly, or had Harold Godwineson left some of his fleet behind when he’d disbanded his host on the eighth of September, instead of taking half of it back to London with him, and the rest dispersing on the way, then she would have had more to worry about. But she already knew that the Mora had encountered no difficulties while she sailed alone and unaided across the Channel, and that she rejoined the fleet before morning.

  She could not discern in any way whether William was aware of the predicament of his ship. As all accounts of this incident stated, he kept his nerve and made merry at the lavish feast that was prepared. And it was a merry crowd, eager to get at the English now that they were finally en route, after months of waiting.

  Roseleen would have preferred to leave that high-spirited group just then, when her own spirits were so low. But she had no place to go on a ship; she would be sleeping on the deck if she managed any sleep at all tonight, there being so few cabins to go around, and Sir Reinard was still standing there awaiting her answer.

  So she tried to smile again, this time more successfully, and told him, “I would be pleased to share—”

  That was as far as she got before Thorn’s voice interrupted her to give his opinion on the subject. “It wouldst be healthier, de Morville, did you eat alone. The lady is in my care, and I am not mindful to share her company—or aught else she has to offer.”

  35

  Roseleen threw up her hands the moment she stepped into the tent and nearly shouted, “I’ve never seen anything so absurdly macho, so unnecessary, so—so possessive. Do you realize that Sir Reinard could have taken offense and challenged you on the spot?”

  The fact that she’d had to wait so long to get this off her chest had merely added to her frustration and anger, instead of lessening it. But she hadn’t had a private moment with Thorn since the incident had occurred last night, or she would certainly have brought it up sooner.

  It was now morning, the ships had sailed into Pevensey Bay without incident to land on the English shore, and the construction of an inner rampart inside the old Roman fort in order to fortify it had already begun. It was a wasted effort, as she could have told anyone who cared to listen, since it would soon be determined that Pevensey was too exposed and the ships would shortly be sailing again eastward to Hastings.

  But since that order hadn’t been given yet, tents were being erected, and she’d hurried Guy into erecting theirs even though she knew it wouldn’t be up long, just so she could tell Thorn what she thought of his macho demonstration last night. It was beside the point that she wouldn’t be so angry if that tense scene hadn’t frightened her because she’d expected swords to clash during it.

  “You as much as threatened him,” she continued to upbraid him, as she paced back and forth in front of him. “You do realize that, don’t you? I’m surprised he didn’t challenge you.”

  Thorn merely crossed his arms over his chest and replied in a tone that reeked with male confidence and certainty, “I would that he had, so be more surprised that I did not do the challenging myself.”

  “But why?” she cried in exasperation. “All the man did was ask me to sit with him for the meal. You can’t get much more harmless than that. So tell me why you blew it all out of proportion?”

  At that point, he growled, “Because I like it not that he is in love with you!”

  That had her backing up and asking with a lot less heat, “How do you know that?”

  “Guy told me that de Morville came to him daily to ask of your whereabouts the whole while we have been absent from this time. That speaks for itself, Roseleen, yet did Guy make mention of the same suspicion. ’Twas necessary to show that lordling that you wouldst never be his.”

  She had to allow he might be right in that respect. She wouldn’t like thinking of Sir Reinard pining away for her here in his time, once she’d returned to her own time. He would be long dead, of course, but then he really wouldn’t be, not with Blooddrinker’s Curse making him accessible at anytime.

  But regardless of whether he should have been discouraged, she didn’t like the way Thorn had handled the situation, embarrassing both her and Sir Reinard. And that hadn’t been the only way he’d embarrassed her last night.

  “All right, forget Sir Reinard for the moment,” she said testily. “Did you also have to tell the duke and everyone else within hearing that you’d been absent this last month because I was leading you on a merry chase around the neighboring countryside? You made it sound like a damn hunting expedition, with my being the hunted—”

  “And caught—”

  “Even worse!”

  By now he was grinning and damn lucky there was nothing lying around the tent yet that she could hit him with. She recalled the duke had laughed. Sir Reinard had also heard the tale and looked utterly dejected. And she’d gone up in flames of embarrassment.

  “Lord William required a reason for my absence,” he reminded her, still grinning. “Verily, did I think that an excellent one, inasmuch as he would remember my other self asking him of you. And you have been caught, Roseleen, well and truly—”

  “The devil I have. And that’s not why you used me as an excuse. You did it solely for Sir Reinard’s benefit, just to rub it in some more that he wouldn’t stand a chance with me as long as you were around.”

  “Nay, he understood that well enough already. That excuse was for your benefit.”

  “Mine?” she gasped incredulously. “How do you possibly figure that?”

  “How do you not see it, when all others there saw it clearly? Even de Morville understood I was admitting my love for you.”

  The hot steam just got knocked clean out of her. In fact, Roseleen suddenly felt like crying, hearing that. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him for all she was worth. She wouldn’t make a similar profession of love, no matter how much she ached to say the words. It would be too hard then to explain why she was going to send him away later. It would be infinitely better if he didn’t think her heart had become involved.

  But just now—just now she loved him so much, and the only way she could express it was this way. And he didn’t need much encouragement to respond in a like manner—no, not any at all. Within seconds, he had borne them both to the floor of the tent, his hands moving over her in a slightly rough manner, testament to the fire she’d ignited.

  It was more passion than he’d ever released before, and she was more than receptive to it, too inflamed already to feel anything but the aching need to join with him immediately. And he was apparently of a like mind.

  Their clothing probably suffered some rips in his impatience to get rid of it. She didn’t hear or care. Each bit of his skin that was revealed to her, she kissed, caressed, or raked her teeth over. She made him groan. He made her tremble. And when he entered her…

  It was over as quickly as it had begun, hard, fast, and incredibly explosive. Coming back to earth, Roseleen felt a bit like a tornado had just run over her. She almost laughed aloud.
She had wondered once about Thorn’s ability to keep his emotions under strict control. Well, she was kind of pleased to find he didn’t always have that ability.

  “Does this mean I am forgiven for whatever you think I did wrong?”

  She opened her eyes to find him looking down at her, his expression full of male satisfaction and the knowledge that he’d curled her toes big time. So she perversely said, “Not exactly. I’ll get back to your weird way of telling me that you—well, what you said. This was simply because I really couldn’t keep my hands off you any longer.”

  He laughed. “Then mayhap I should distract you a little longer.”

  “Well…” She grinned back at him. “You can give it your best shot, and we’ll see what happens.”

  He did, and it was a very long while before she thought about anything other than pleasure.

  36

  “I have noted, more often than not, that you like this time in your history.”

  Thorn’s offhand remark immediately caught Roseleen’s attention. They had just finished eating a hastily prepared meal, and she was feeling well-sated in all respects. She’d even been thinking about a nap before the ships sailed again.

  “Fascinated would more aptly describe how I feel about it,” she said, then joked, “But let’s face it, there is much to be said for modern plumbing.”

  He smiled, though it was doubtful he caught her meaning. And she couldn’t remember if she’d explained much about plumbing to him, or at least that toilets were a benefit of it. But now her curiosity was aroused by his remark, or rather, what had prompted it.

  “Why do you mention it?” she asked him.

  “Because we need not return to your time. We can stay in this time—if you like.”

  The moment he said it, her heart leaped with excitement, and for a number of reasons. They really could stay in the Middle Ages. She hadn’t even considered it before. But it was possible.