A Forever Kind of Thing

A F o r e v e r K in d Of T h in g Sharon Cullen RuneStone Publishing Prologue Northern France, 1798 The babe was dyi...

Author: Cullen Sharon

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A F o r e v e r K in d Of T h in g Sharon Cullen

RuneStone Publishing

Prologue Northern France, 1798 The babe was dying. The mother, struggling on the soft blankets to expel the infant from her body, knew it. The grandmother, helping the infant along his journey as best she could, and the father, sitting outside the tent, listening to the pitiful cries of his wife, knew it. No one could do anything except watch and pray for a quick ending. It came, as everyone knew it would. And with it came the death of the infant’s mother. Mikael Giovanni, King of the Giovanni Gypsy tribe, shuddered once and let his head fall into his hands. Another infant dead, another wife gone in the birthing. An old man sat far from the flickering flames of the small campfire. His black eyes whipped back and forth, tendrils of white hair stuck out from his head in odd directions. His closed mouth moved in a continuous back and forth motion while gnarled, arthritic fingers lay twisted in his lap. No one paid him any mind. The mother of King Mikael stepped from the colorful tent,

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clutching a small bundle of cloth. Mikael took it and looked into the still face of his daughter. After a moment he handed the dead infant to his mother, stood, and walked away. “It is a curse, I tell you.” The old man came to stand beside the woman. He reached one gnarled, crooked finger out to touch the cold skin. “The Tremonts have cursed our family. Mikael’s children are doomed to die before they can even breathe, and the Giovanni blood will die with them. Amriya.” He whispered the word for ‘curse’ in the language of his father. “Shut up, Papa.” The woman stared with a worried frown at the retreating back of her son. “It is no curse. The babies were big, their mothers small. The women could not endure such large babes.” The old man shook his head. Wisps of white hair billowed around his ears. “No. Our enemy has cursed us.” * * * Later that night the old man crept into the tent of his sleeping grandson and stared down at him. The King of the tribe Giovanni, lay curled into a tight ball, a bottle of spirits cuddled close to his stomach. He did not move, the alcohol doing what time eventually would, dulling his pain. The old man crouched next to his grandson, his brittle knees popping their protest. In the still of the night he muttered words no mortal had ever spoken out loud. He raised both arthritic hands over his people’s King until they hovered mere centimeters from the warm skin, but not touching. Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightening slashed through a cloudless sky. He would do what he had to. He would save his grandson and the Giovanni blood line. Damn the gods to hell. Damn the Tremonts with the gods.

A Forever Kind of Thing

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Finished, he stood, his joints creaking in the silence, and took one last look at his grandson. “I am sorry chaveske chikno.” Grandson. He turned and walked out. The King did not move. The woman met the old man on the other side of the tent. “What have you done?” Panic laced her words. His gaze slid away from hers. “I have ensured our survival.” “There is no curse, old man.” She shook his thin shoulders. “It is nature’s way. There will be more children.” The old man refused to meet the woman’s eyes. “We are cursed. The Giovannis will live forever now.” The woman’s eyes went wide in horror. She took a step back, one hand dropping to her side, the other covering her mouth. “No,” she whispered. A small smile formed on the old man’s wrinkled face. “Mikael will live to guarantee the survival of the Giovannis.” The woman stifled a cry. “Take it back.” “I can not.” “Reverse it. Break it.” “There is no reversal. It can not be broken.”

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Chapter 1 Present Day

Mikael cut the low purr of the Harley’s engine. With the heel of his leather boot he pushed the kickstand down, swung one leatherclad leg over the seat and yanked the helmet off his head. The warm, fall breeze ruffled his hair and cooled his face. The wild ride on the motorcycle didn’t rid him of his foul mood. He shouldn’t have been surprised; the mood had dogged his every step for the last several decades. The time had come to retreat to Marimay, his estate in England, his sanctuary when a mood such as this descended. Given time, the great weight of emotions resting on his chest would suffocate him. At Marimay the weight would lift. The squat, two-story building in front of him looked almost as old as he, but the date carved into the stone above the front doors proved him wrong. The structure was built in 1820. He smirked. “A mere infant.” He set the motorcycle helmet on the seat of the bike, jogged up the steps and pulled open the front door. He moved without sound through the few people congregating in the entranceway of the tiny


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museum of Patience, Maine, a town so small it didn’t even merit a dot on the map. What brought him to the museum was the display of antique weapons the town somehow convinced the Smithsonian to loan them. What brought him to the town of Patience was a different story entirely. One he wasn’t even sure he knew himself. He stopped to stare at a broadsword nestled under protective glass. Lost in his memories, it could have been minutes, it could have been an hour that he stared. There were times he ran from the memories and times he searched them out. Today he searched them out. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He tore his gaze from the weapon to look down into the purest green eyes he had ever seen. They reminded him of new grass in the springtime. Cinnamon colored hair was pulled back in a blue velvet headband held cinnamon colored hair away from a small, pale face. At six foot three, Mikael stood a good foot taller, feeling like a giant in her presence. Her green eyes twinkled and she shifted them to the weapon in the display case. “The broadsword. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She glanced at him, and he felt himself falling into those pure emerald depths. He turned back to the sword, afraid to look at her any longer. Afraid to feel, to want, to need. “It’s a weapon of war, an instrument of death.” She shrugged. “True. But imagine the history behind it. The wars fought with it, the people who held it. That’s what makes it beautiful.” He didn’t have to imagine. He had his memories to guide him. But he could see her point. Looked at in that light he supposed

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the weapon was beautiful though he had seen more intricately carved broadswords and in fact owned a few himself. She stuck her hand out and once again he pulled his attention from the glass case. “My name’s Allison. But most people call me Allie.” His callused, dark hand engulfed hers. He quickly released her and shoved his hand into the pocket of his leather jacket. Was it his imagination or had his skin tingled when they’d touched? “I’m on my lunch hour and had to run over here to see the display,” she continued, apparently not fazed that he had touched her as little as possible. “I helped the museum committee in drafting their proposal to the Smithsonian to get the display here. I’m the town librarian.” An eyebrow rose in surprise. He’d always pictured town librarians as old, with gray hair pulled back in a bun, wearing ill-fitting dresses and sour expressions. He’d never before encountered a greeneyed, cinnamon-haired, pixie librarian. “Are you interested in weapons such as these?” He indicated the broadsword with a tip of his head. Her eyes swung to the glass case. “Yes. I’m interested in lots of things. I almost have to, being a librarian and all.” “Perhaps you could show me the rest of the weapons.” He wanted to snatch the words back as soon as they left his mouth. He didn’t need a red-haired pixie in his life. Ever. She smiled and Mikael had to remind himself to breathe. Her smile lit up her whole face. This woman enjoyed life, wringing from it everything she could and then some. He’d never met anyone like her before. Considering how very long he had lived and the many places he had been, that said a lot.


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“I would love to, but I have to get back.” She waved to a doorway behind him. “If you go through there you’ll find daggers and maces. I love the daggers the best.” She wiggled her fingers in the air and turned, leaving him alone beside the broadsword. He tracked her movements as she pushed open the doors and walked out. October sunshine lit her hair on fire and his body hummed with something he didn’t want to identify. He snorted and turned away. He’d gone too long without female companionship. His gaze strayed to the glass doors, searching the sidewalk outside for a woman with a bounce to her step. * * * Allie flipped through the large book, her eyes skimming the small print, her chin resting in her hand, her mind three blocks away on the strange man she’d met. She still couldn’t believe she’d done that. She’d never done anything so bold in her life. Rarely did she approach men and never had she approached a dark, dangerous looking man wearing leather and a silver hoop in his ear. Pleased with herself for taking the initiative, she was also mortified. He probably had women approaching him all the time. But still, that black hair that shot sparks of blue at her when it caught the light, oohh, mama. When he’d turned those baby blues on her, she’d been lost. They were like crystal ice, almost transparent. She’d never seen eyes that color before. A big guy with massive shoulders, slim hips and long legs, his tall, athletic physique practically dwarfed her and she found she liked the feeling of protectiveness he evoked. He’d been brooding. She could tell that right away by the faraway look in his expression. But that hadn’t stopped her from

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talking to him. Besides, she’d wanted to see the broadsword and he’d been taking up all the space. “Are you okay, Allie, honey?” Startled, Allie turned to her assistant, Martha, a spry sixty-five year-old and the best friend Allie had. Today the woman wore a bright fuchsia top and pale lavender bottoms. Green canvas running shoes encased her feet. Red framed glasses hung from a chain around her neck. “I’m fine, Martha. Why?” Martha raised two bushy eyebrows. “Because you’re standing with a book in your hand looking like you’re a million miles away.” Allie glanced at the book, shut it and put it on the cart for reshelving. “Just thinking.” “Did something happen at lunch today? You haven’t been the same since you got back.” Allie walked into her office, Martha trailing behind her like a puppy, her voice a mixture of concern and excitement. “No. I visited the new display at the museum, that’s all.” Seemingly happy with the answer, Martha walked off to tidy the children’s section, leaving Allie to continue her daydreams. Without warning, the atmosphere in the small library intensified, deepened. Startled, Allie looked up. The man from the museum stood just inside the library doors, his hands shoved into his leather jacket, his feet braced wide apart. The late afternoon sun shone behind him, outlining his form and casting shadows over his features. He walked over to her with a quiet grace and leaned his elbows on the counter. As if pulled by an invisible string, she met him on the other side, and cleared her throat of the lump that formed.


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“Hi.” Her body tingled. Her nerve endings sang. Edgy and at the same time calm, she felt as if she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life. “Did you want to check a book out?” His eyes roved around the room, settling on then moving away from the posters hanging on the walls and the people sitting on the leather couches. They found their way back to her. The disconcerting, almost lack of color mesmerized her. His leather jacket sported silver buckles and zippers. In his ear was a small silver hoop. His black hair brushed the collar of the leather jacket, a lock falling over his forehead. He looked dashing and dangerous. Something Allie had never encountered in any of the men she knew. “Actually,” he stood to his full height, his leather creaking, and she had to tilt her head up to see his face. “I wondered if you would like to have dinner with me.” She stared at him. He wanted to take her out to dinner? Her? Surely he mistook her for someone else. She glanced around as if the real person he wanted to ask would pop out of the stack of books. He stared at her, those crystal blue eyes boring into her. “I, um, I would love to go to dinner with you.” She shouldn’t have been surprised at her boldness. This man intrigued her in ways no other had. It wasn’t his rebel style of dress or his dangerous looks, but more the sadness lodged in those strange eyes. He looked like he needed a friend and Allie was a sucker for the lost and lonely. “But--” His eyes narrowed and she held up her hand, “I make it a point not to go out with any man whose name I don’t know.” He smiled and for a moment she couldn’t move. That smile transformed a face of hard planes and chiseled cheekbones into

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something beautiful and almost approachable. He held his hand out. “Mikael Butler.” She managed to make her arm work and reached out to shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mikael Butler. If you’ll give me a few minutes to finish some paperwork and grab my purse and coat, we can leave.” It took her more like ten minutes. She found Mikael in the stacks, flipping through a book. When he saw her he closed the book and put it back on the shelf—-in the right spot. “Ah, I like a man who puts a book back where it belongs. Saves me the trouble of finding it and re-shelving it.” He smiled, took her elbow and steered her out of the library. Together they stepped into the cool October night. “I must confess I’m not sure of the restaurants around here. Do you have a favorite?” She eyed all his leather. “We’re not exactly dressed for Maxwell’s. How about the diner down the street? The food’s really good.” He took her elbow once again. “Lead the way, then.” They arrived a few minutes later and managed to find a booth in the corner. Allie nodded to the people she knew, ignoring their curious glances. Being the only moderately priced restaurant in the area, the place was hopping. Laughter erupted from a nearby table, glasses and silverware clinked together, and the persistent low hum of many different conversations filled the air, mixing with the aroma of meatloaf and homemade peach pie. They sat and a waitress arrived to take their order. Allie picked up her glass of water and took a sip. Mikael gazed out the


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window where the citizens of Patience made their way home. His eyes had a faraway look to them, as if he saw the action outside, but didn’t absorb it. “Where are you from, Mikael Butler?” He leaned back in the booth and draped his arm across the back, piercing her with an unreadable expression. “Around. Here and there.” She paused, not expecting such a flip answer. “Oh, well, that certainly clears things up.” He laughed, little crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. “I have a home in England and just purchased a house a little ways from here.” Her eyes grew wide. “So you’re the one.” His laughter died as his gaze went cold. The transformation took place in less than a heartbeat. Relaxed and laughing one second, frigid as ice the next. “I’m the one what?” Allie suppressed a shiver but refused to be intimidated. She’d never been one to back down from anything, she didn’t have that luxury with the life she’d been dealt. “You’re the one who bought the Banner mansion, aren’t you? People in Patience--” she waved her hand, indicating the patrons in the diner, “--are dying to meet you. You’ve kind of kept to yourself for the past few months.” His shoulder muscles relaxed a fraction and the frost in his eyes melted a bit. “Actually, I haven’t been here. I’ve been traveling.” “Do you do much traveling?” “All the time. Rarely am I in the same place long.”

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Sharon Cullen “So you won’t be staying then?” Allie didn’t like the

disappointment she felt. She tried to hide it, but it still nagged at her. He shook his head and took a drink of his water. His Adam’s apple slid up, then down. “Probably not. I need to get back to England. I’ve been gone for some time.” “Then why buy the Banner mansion if you’re not going to live there?” She took a quick sip of water to hide her mortification at asking such a personal question. “I’m sorry,” she put her glass down. “It’s none of my business.” His lips curled up at the corners, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I bought it because I like the town of Patience. It’s quaint and quiet and comfortable and when I’m in the area again I’ll have a place to go.” “You must be really rich if you can afford to buy mansions just like that.” She groaned, appalled at making such an ass of herself. He grinned and picked up his water to take another drink. “Are you interested in the Gypsies?” His eyes went wide and he sputtered, putting the water down with a thunk before he started coughing. Making a fist with his hand, he thumped his chest several times. “What makes you ask that?” he finally asked, his voice rough. She shrugged and turned her own glass of water around in circles. “The book you were looking at in the library. It was about Gypsies. I just wondered if you were interested in them.” “I am,” he said, wariness creeping into his gaze. She leaned forward in excitement. “I am too. Did you know the Gypsies camp here for a week in October? They should be here


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soon.” He frowned. “Stay away from them, Allie.” She sat back, her excitement fading. “Why?” “Because they’re swindlers. They’ll take your money and run. They have no conscience.” His voice turned bitter and he stared at her with furrowed eyebrows, deep lines creasing his forehead. “That’s a horrible thing to say! They’re very nice people. I’ve been visiting their camp for several years now and find them intriguing.” He leaned forward and pinned her with his gaze. She squirmed under his unflinching stare. “They have a saying. Si khohaimo may pachivalo sar o chachimo. There are lies more believable than the truth.” He sat back, still staring at her, and crossed muscular arms over an equally muscular chest. “They lie more than they tell the truth.” He laughed without humor. “Hell, they wouldn’t know the truth if it hit them over the head.” “You seem to know an awful lot about them. You even speak their language.” “I travel extensively. When one travels like I do one is bound to run into a Rom or two.” “Rom?” “Rom is what they call themselves. Gypsy is what your people have labeled them.” “My people?” She quirked an eyebrow. He shrugged and reached for his glass of water, taking a long swallow before responding. That damn Adam’s apple did its little dance again. “People other than the Gypsies.”

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Sharon Cullen “How did you learn their language?” “Like you, I’m interested in many things.” For the first time she noticed his slight, barely discernable,

accent, unable to determine where it came from. Certainly not Britain. It could have been French or even Spanish for all she knew. He was a strange man. He looked young, not more than thirty-five, only seven years older than her, yet, he acted as if he were much older and wiser. “How old are you?” She couldn’t keep her curiosity at bay and he didn’t seem offended by the question. “In my mind and body I’m thirty-three.” “And your soul?” He looked startled. “My soul?” “Sure. Mind, body and soul. You said in your mind and body you’re thirty-three. What are you in your soul?” A muscle jumped in his jaw. Beyond the leather and harsh beauty resided a tormented soul, she could sense it. Maybe because her own soul recognized a kindred spirit. “In my soul I am two hundred and thirty-five.” She nodded in understanding. “There are days when I feel that way, too.” His expression warmed, his gaze traveling up her body. “Feel like what, little rani?” She blinked, surprised to hear an endearment come from him, even though she had no idea what it meant. “Feel older than my years. Tired, worn out.” “And what makes a beautiful, cinnamon haired librarian tired and worn out?”


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She acknowledged the compliment with a smile and an internal tremor of desire. “Things. Life.” Not about to tell him her secrets, she didn’t elaborate. “What does rani mean?” “It’s Romany for lady.” “Oh.” So it didn’t mean love of my life. Oh, well, that was asking a little much anyway. “I mean it, Allie, stay away from them. Their fortune telling and games are nothing but scams to take your money.” His voice went from sexy and teasing to serious. It’d been a long time since she’d answered to anyone and she bristled at the command. . “You sound a little prejudiced. Besides, we just met. You have no right to tell me what to do or where to go.” He nodded. “You’re right. I don’t. I’m sorry. I just hate to see someone as innocent and beautiful as you taken in by them.” That was the second time he’d called her beautiful. Was he running his own scam? And what made him think her innocent? “So, what do you do when you’re not traveling?” She needed to change the subject because talk of the Gypsies and his obvious prejudice made her uncomfortable. “I travel. That’s what I do.” Every time he pierced her with those crystal eyes she got the uneasy feeling he read her private thoughts and in an odd way she liked it. “Are you a traveling salesman? Do you travel for work?” He made it extremely difficult for her to understand him better and by his smile she guessed he knew that. “No and no.” She threw her hands up in mock surrender. “I give up. Keep

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your secrets, Mikael Butler. They must be very important if you’re not even willing to engage in idle chit chat.” She crossed her arms, irritated at his reticence, knowing she had no right to feel that way. Allie understood secrets, she had a few of her own and damned if she would ever tell Mikael Butler about them. He looked at her with haunted eyes that hid the mystery of his soul. “I’m sorry, Allison. I didn’t mean to offend you. I travel because I can afford to and because I can not stay in one place too long.” There it was again, that slight accent she couldn’t identify. Why couldn’t he stay in one place too long? Was he one who constantly had to be on the move? Or was he running from something? Or someone? He took another swallow of water. This time she averted her gaze, refusing to let the mere working of his throat turn her on. Her first impression had been that he looked dangerous. Her second impression was he felt dangerous. Now her senses screamed something was not quite right with this man. But something deep inside her, some sixth sense, told her however dangerous Mikael Butler was, he would never harm her. A shiver ran down her spine. He may not harm her but what would he do to someone he considered his enemy? Their meals arrived and the conversation turned to the mundane like what to do in Patience on a Friday night—-not much—and how he liked the weapons display at the museum-—very much. After they finished, Mikael paid and walked Allie home. She lived three doors down on Main Street in an apartment above Sally’s Cut’n Comb. When they reached the outside steps leading up to her home, she stopped, turning to Mikael. He really was very beautiful. And dangerous. Dangerous in that he would return to


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England. In that she didn’t need to get involved with a man who wandered the Earth searching for God knows what. Or running from God knows who, for that matter. Come to think of it, she didn’t need to get involved with a man, period. “Thank you for dinner.” She looked up into intense crystal eyes, eyes that seemed as if they had seen too much, experienced too much. “You’re welcome.” He reached out and pulled a curl taut then let it go, his eyes following as it sprang back into shape. His gaze returned to her. “May I kiss you, Allie?” “Oh.” Flustered and caught off guard by that question, she hesitated. Men didn’t usually ask to kiss her, they just assumed it their right after paying for her dinner and usually she didn’t object. Mikael didn’t wait for an objection though. He lowered his head until their lips hovered mere centimeters apart and his warm breath touched her face. He stopped, whether to give her time to accept his kiss or reject it she didn’t know. She waited, with breath held, for him to continue. Their lips touched in a gentle, sweet kiss. He kept his hands locked behind his back and Allie kept hers clutched in front of her. She wanted to touch him, to spear her fingers through that blue-black hair, but she held tight to her sanity. He opened his mouth and touched his tongue to her lips, inviting himself in. She didn’t resist, couldn’t resist. She wanted this more than she wanted anything else in her life. She opened up for him and he came in, tasting her, testing her. Then he pulled back and pierced her with eyes that were a mirror of the storm brewing inside her. Allie took a deep breath and held it, letting it out only when her lungs began to ache. She wanted to

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say thank you. Thank you for the best kiss she’d ever in her life experienced. But that would sound childish, too naïve for this man who traveled the world. He took a step back and looked at her as if he didn’t quite know what to do with her. She understood. She didn’t quite know what to do with him. She didn’t want the evening to end, yet was afraid to ask him up to her apartment. Afraid of her response if he suggested going beyond kissing. Even a little afraid of him. “Will you be in Patience long?” “I don’t know. Why?” He continued to look at her in that way that indicated he’d just been blindsided. “Well, I thought you could take me to the Gypsy Carnival since you won’t let me go by myself.” He grinned. In the light of the porch light his hair shot blue sparks and his earring twinkled. “If I’m still here, I’ll take you.” She smiled her thanks and turned to step through the door, closing it behind her, all the while reliving that mind-blowing, lifealtering kiss. * * * Mikael stood in front of his motorcycle and looked up at the star studded night. The wind whipped around him, blowing his hair and sending chills up and down his body. Change was coming. He could almost smell it on the air. What sort of change would it be this time? Danger? Certainly not heartbreak. He hadn’t given his heart, learning that lesson well. He clenched his hands into tight fists, released them, then clenched them again. The feel of Allie was still on his lips, warm and smooth. The taste of her was there too, fragrant and wet. He had not


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touched her with anything but his mouth and tongue, but he knew without a doubt, if he had gathered her in his arms and hugged her to him they would have fit together perfectly. It was this that bothered him the most. For over two hundred years Mikael refused to forget the sight of his wives, dead in childbirth. He vividly remembered what his son and daughter looked like. Those memories enabled him to remain detached from the opposite sex. He’d had affairs in the past, had set up a long line of mistresses during the nineteenth century and took many lovers during the twentieth century. By no means had he been a monk. But Allie, ah, Allie was different. He had yet to figure out how. Knowing the hows and whys wouldn’t make any difference. It was enough that she was. Brown, curled leaves blew across his boots. He zipped his jacket against the cold knowing the leather afforded only temporary warmth. The real cold lay inside. Yes, it was time to go home to Marimay, time to escape. He had known Allie for one afternoon, but it would take much longer to purge her from him once he returned to England. But purge her he would, and when he reentered the outside world Allie would be an old woman and Mikael long forgotten in her mind. For Mikael could spend decades in hiding.

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Chapter 2 For the last time, Mikael strolled down Main Street, looking into shop windows, taking in the Halloween displays. He planned to leave soon. All week he’d prepared for his departure. He rounded the corner of the drug store and stopped short, his hands curling into fists inside his jacket pocket. His jaw clenched and anger raced through him. The town deputy had Allie pinned against a rough brick wall, one beefy hand resting on the wall beside her head, the other held her in hand. Mikael’s eyes dropped to the entwined fingers. She tugged and the deputy’s hand tightened until her knuckles turned white. Good God, he held her against her will! Mikael took a step forward, then hesitated. He shouldn’t get involved. This was none of his business. He was leaving soon and damn it, hadn’t he just spent the last week reminding himself why he had to stay away from her? The deputy leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips. Allie turned her head at the last minute and the kiss landed on her cheek. The guy’s eyes narrowed as a dull red crept up his neck. Mikael,


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reacting without thought to the intense anger, closed the remaining space between them. He ignored the thunder rumbling in the cloudless distance. As if sensing his presence, Allie’s head shot up, a mixture of relief and dread crossing her face. He reached for the hand held in the deputy’s and secured it in his own, forcing a pleasant smile on his lips. “Allie, there you are. I thought you had forgotten our appointment.” The deputy swung toward Mikael, his lips thinning. He wasn’t overly tall but still towered over Allie. He had sandy brown hair showing definite signs of receding. With a little pressure on her hand Mikael drew Allie to his side. She squeezed and he squeezed back, his gaze never leaving the deputy’s. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He held his other hand out, not daring to let go of Allie. “Mikael Butler.” The deputy eyed his hand but didn’t take it, nor did he offer his own name. Allie covered her mouth and coughed. “Mikael, this is Steven Lane, the town deputy. Steven, Mikael bought the Banner mansion.” Deputy Steven grunted, then turned from Mikael in obvious dismissal. “So I’ll pick you up at seven tonight then,” he said to Allie. Allie hesitated and Mikael jumped in. “I’m sorry, but Allie already has plans with me this evening.” Allie looked at him in surprise, then coughed behind her free hand. Steven ignored him and continued to stare at Allie. “I’m sorry, Steven. I’d forgotten my promise to Mikael,” she finally said.

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Sharon Cullen Mikael laughed. “Allie, honey, I don’t know whether to be

offended or not.” With another bit of pressure from his hand, he and Allie walked away. “Tell me I did the right thing, little rani.” “You did the right thing.” He let out a relieved breath. “Good. For a moment I thought I was barging in on a lovers spat.” Allie’s lips turned down at the corners. “That’s what Steven would like to think. I’ve been out with him twice. The first night he was very nice, the second night he turned into Octopus Man. There will be no third night, but he doesn’t understand that.” “Octopus Man, huh?” They walked a little farther in silence, Mikael reliving the scene he just witnessed. He didn’t like it one bit. Mikael had met others like him. A bad seed, a man who thought women should do as he said because he wore a uniform. Something very close to protectiveness had rushed through him, followed closely by anger. He wanted to protect Allie from the Steven Lanes of this world. She was so damn tiny that she needed a protector, but not him. Never, him. Let someone else watch over her. “Thank you for rescuing me,” she said. He put his hand under her elbow and guided her up the steps of the museum. “I didn’t get the opportunity to see the dagger collection you recommended. Would you show them to me now?” He felt her hesitation in the slowing of her steps, but continued walking. “I have errands to run,” she said. The late afternoon sun glinted off her cinnamon hair, turning it a fiery red. He wanted nothing more than to spend some time with this woman who confused him so.


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Six months ago he’d roared through Patience on his Harley, stopped overnight at a cheap hotel on the outskirts of town and felt a peace he had not known for a long time, if ever. He had come across similar towns in his travels, but none spoke to him like Patience. Until he met the town librarian, he had hoped he could settle here during the downtime of his travels. But now his carefully built life seemed to sway and shift, as if at any moment Allie would tear down his walls and leave nothing but some dust and the few odd bricks in its place. He should run as far and as fast as he could, before she got under his skin. Before he doomed her. “Just an hour, Allie, I’d really like to see them. Please.” She looked at him, her head tilted to the side, and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. He had to stifle the low moan of desire building inside him. Apparently coming to a decision, she walked through the double doors, leading him to the collection of daggers. Her eyes glowed as she drank in the small weapons. “Did you know some people named their weapons?” he asked, to take his mind off the way her teeth sucked in her lip and the way he wanted to bend down and suck that lip himself. “It makes sense,” she said. “And why is that?” He had fought many battles and still had his favorite weapons, but he had never named them. “War is devastating.” She looked up at him with those big green eyes. “Not just for the innocent people caught in the middle, but more so for those fighting for a cause they deem worthy to die for.” She turned back to the weapons. “I imagine you can’t get too close to your comrades because they may not be there tomorrow or even the next hour. Maybe not even the next minute. But your weapon will.

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Sometimes it’s the only thing you can count on in the midst of a battle. Am I right?” Mikael stared at her for several moments, hearing the cries of friends long lost in battle. The helplessness and rage he had felt as he listened to their final prayers or in some cases, curses, threatened to swallow him whole. “You sound like you’ve been there before.” The God-awful memories made his voice husky. “No.” She shook her head and stared at a gold and silver dagger, her eyes going glassy. What did she see? It certainly wasn’t the weapon, but something in her mind, something that had profoundly changed her. “There are other types of war. Wars that don’t have anything to do with politics. I’ve seen plenty of them in my day.” Her gaze penetrated him and rested somewhere in his soul. “You know that too don’t you, Mikael?” “How would I know that?” He shifted, turning away from green eyes that saw too much. Her shoulder brushed against his arm as she shrugged. “Just a feeling I get about you.” He reached out, curling his fingers through hers, and remained silent. Together they turned and wandered among the displays. By the time they walked back through the double doors the sky had darkened and night had settled in. Allie took a deep breath of the cool air and began to cough, her small shoulders shaking with the effort. “You’re not getting sick, are you? You look a little pale.” His chest constricted with worry. When was the last time he’d worried


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about someone’s health? She shook her head. “No,” she said between coughs that almost doubled her over. “I’m fine.” A moment later she stopped coughing and her color returned. “I meant what I said about dinner tonight. If I promise not to turn into Octopus Man would you have dinner with me?” She smiled, the breeze blowing her curls around her face, and he had to fight the impulse to grab one and stroke it. “Not tonight, Mikael. Thank you though. I really need to get home.” Dark shadows gave the skin under her eyes a bruised look. Her spirit seemed to sag and exhaustion lurked in her gaze. He reached out and stroked a curl, feeling the silky texture of it. “Are you sure you’re feeling well?” His gaze searched her, starting at her feet and running upward, taking in everything, disregarding nothing. She shrugged and looked away. “I’m fine, just tired.” He frowned, his stomach knotting. “You’re not going out with Octopus Man are you? Stay away from him, Allie. He’s bad news.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “Stay away from Octopus Man, stay away from the Gypsies. You’re not my father, Mikael, nor are you my lover. You can’t tell me what to do. But to answer your question, no, I’m not going out with Octopus Man. I’m going home and going to bed.” An image of her pale body lying on a bed of pink satin sheets streaked through his mind causing his body to tighten and his breath leave him in a loud whoosh. He shoved the vision away, to the far

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reaches of his mind where it lingered. “I’m sorry.” What was wrong with him? He had no right to tell her who to see or what to do and yet it seemed he’d done exactly that on the few occasions they’d been together. What did he care who she saw? He shouldn’t care, he had no right to care, no reason to care. Yet, he did. If he wanted to get down to the bare bone of the matter it made him angry that someone like Steven Lane would treat someone like Allie the way he did. And he hated that Allie would go to the Gypsies so they could con her out of her hard earned money. So, okay, he did care. He cared a lot. More than he wanted to admit. More than he’d cared in decades. He walked up the outside steps of her apartment and dropped her off at her door. There had been no kiss tonight and he felt the absence of it throughout his entire body. He itched to take her in his arms and hold her. He craved the taste of her lips on his and yearned for the feel of her body pressed against him. He turned and strode away, his body tight with longing.


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Chapter 3 Allie didn’t even bother pulling the sheets down when she crawled into bed. She just flopped face first on the comforter and gathered her pillow under her head. Her body ached and her throat hurt from coughing. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep, rejuvenating sleep. Not even thoughts of Mikael kept her awake. The next morning she felt much better. While running the errands she hadn’t been able to get to the day before, her thoughts kept straying to Mikael. She recalled the scent of him, spicy and sexy. She remembered the taste of him and the feel of his hand in hers. She called to mind the way his ebony hair caught the sunlight and the habit he had of running his hands through that hair, disheveling it, making him look sexier than ever. She had a very vivid image of pressing her body close to his and twining her hand around his neck, pulling him closer. She pictured herself kissing him, pulling the taste of him into her. His body would be all hard muscles against her softness and he would cup his hand on the back of her head while his tongue met hers thrust for thrust. A loud buzz snapped her out of her fantasy and she looked around, bewildered. Then she blushed. Her body was on fire and she fanned herself with her hand, thankful she was alone. Geez, it was hot in here. She sat in one of those hard plastic chairs native to all Laundromats and watched her clothes tumble around in the dryer, attempting to forget that little scene of seduction she just conjured up.

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That wasn’t like her. She didn’t think like that, at least she hadn’t before Mikael entered her life. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she swung around to stare out the glass door, a part of her hoping Mikael would walk through, another part hoping he wouldn’t. She couldn’t quite look at him right now, not with visions of him pressing his body into hers still in her mind. No one was there. Probably her imagination, or too many Halloween stories she’d been feeding the children at the library. She turned back to her clothes but couldn’t quite dismiss the feeling that someone watched her. She turned her mind back to Mikael. Definitely the most interesting and best looking man she had ever met. And dangerous. She’d glimpsed that danger yesterday when Mikael saved her from Steven’s unwanted advances. Oddly enough that inherent danger intrigued her more than frightened her. She’d felt his anger at Steven yet he’d been nothing but gentle with her. He’d looked haunted at the museum when they’d discussed war. Had he fought in Desert Storm? Iraq? Changing positions on the hard chair, she summed up all she knew about Mikael Butler. He was secretive. He was haunted and there was the sadness she’d seen when she first met him that never really disappeared. All in all, not a good catch. So why did she feel this thing for him? Why did he intrigue her so? She stared unseeing at her clothes, contemplating that


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question, and tried to shake the uneasy feeling someone was out there, watching her. She glanced over her shoulder, but eventually chalked it up to paranoia. By the time she lugged her laundry home, the feeling had disappeared. Still lost in her tumultuous thoughts about Mikael, Allie trudged up the steps to her apartment, the heavy basket of laundry in her arms, and ran right into a hard wall. “Oh.” She teetered on the edge of the step as a hand shot out to steady her, warm skin brushing against her wrist, conjuring the too vivid fantasy she’d had in the laundry mat. She shivered, wanting more of his touch, and looked up into crystal eyes. Yes, he was secretive and haunted and sad and gorgeous and nothing like what she needed in a man. But she wanted this particular man, secrets and all. Mikael took her load of laundry and cocked one ebony eyebrow, unaware of the revelation that rocked Allie to her very core. “Where to?” he asked. Stunned at her newly discovered feelings, she could only point to her apartment door. Okay Allison, you like the man, you lust after the man, and you may even be a little in love with the man. But, remember he’s leaving for England. Obviously, he’s not one to stick around for the long haul and that probably means he’s also not one to stick around during the bad times. And the bad times were coming, if not sooner, then later. Guaranteed. He looked over his shoulder, his black hair ruffled by the cool breeze, his eyes full of warmth and humor. He put her laundry down and retraced his steps. Once again he did that taking-her-by-the-elbow gesture and steered her up the remaining stairs, plucking her keys out of

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her hand and unlocking the door. He put his hand in the small of her back and guided her inside. Her apartment was small, much smaller than Mikael was probably used to considering he made it a habit to purchase mansions. But Allie took pride in it. Every stick of furniture, every scrap of linen had been lovingly hand picked by her. It didn’t fall into any category like art deco or Victorian. It was pure Allie. She’d taken the time that morning to dust and vacuum, though Mikael hadn’t even looked around. He was too intent on looking at her. “Are you feeling better?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. The concern got to her.

“Y-yes, thank you.” God, what was she

going to do now? Falling for this man, this very wrong man, went against everything in her. “A good nights sleep did the trick.” For now. He stared at her for a few moments as if to assure himself she spoke the truth. “I came to see if you were feeling up to dinner tonight.” Mikael still held her elbow and Allie looked at him with eyes a little unfocused, confusion and apprehension racing through her “Allie? Are you up to going to dinner?” Her mind screamed NO. Her mind told her not to get attached to a man leaving soon. Her mind said the right thing to do was to keep her distance. But then again sometimes the right thing was not always the fun thing and sometimes ‘no’ wasn’t always the best answer. Allie learned she had to grab onto life and wring from it everything she possibly could because she didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. For some, there were no tomorrows. “I’d love to go to dinner with you.”


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He smiled in relief, released her elbow and fetched the laundry from outside. Dropping it on the floor in her living room he said, “From what I’ve gathered in my forays into the heart of your city we have two choices, the diner or Maxwell’s. I vote for Maxwell’s.” Patience boasted two restaurants. Maxwell’s was definitely more upscale than the diner. They served wine and had linen napkins. About a half hour later Mikael led her to their table where he pulled out her chair, then seated himself. Allie didn’t miss the waitress’s perusal and subsequent approval of Mikael. He was so out of her league. What did he see in her that kept him coming back? As they waited for their food a comfortable silence fell between them, but it was still silence and Allie felt the need to fill it. “So,” she leaned back in her chair, “we’ve already determined you’re from ‘around’ or maybe it was ‘here and there’. Do you have any brothers and sisters from ‘here and there and around’?” “I told you I have a home in England,” he said. Allie took in the white lines around his mouth and the jaw muscle that twitched. Ooo-kay, a wonderful way to start the evening. “That’s right. So tell me about your family.” He sat back and sipped his scotch and water, watching her with narrowed eyes. Carefully, he set the drink on the table, but kept his hand on it, training his gaze on the condensation dripping from his glass. "Do you honestly think you actually know a person just by learning where they’re from or the names of their relatives?” The furious look in his eyes and the iciness of his voice stunned her. For the first time since meeting him Allie began to fear him. She cleared her throat. “It’s just a question, Mikael. Something people ask each other

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as they try to get to know one another. I didn’t realize it was a sore subject. I won’t bring it up again.” She tried to mask the hurt in her voice. Silly to feel hurt when they barely knew each other. He twirled his glass around on the table, his gaze locked on it, and sat back in his chair. His usually proud shoulders bowed, his eyes downcast, avoiding her. Tonight he wore black jeans and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She studied the way his muscles flexed in his forearms, but even that didn’t hold her attention long. Shifting in her seat, she refused to be the one to break the tense silence. An eternity later their dinner arrived and Allie picked at her food. She wanted her life back to normal. In the short time Mikael had been in her life, he’d turned her world upside down. She thought about him all the time, and didn’t like it. See, Allison, you knew a man in your life would cause problems. Isn’t that why you swore them off? Yes. Yes, yes, yes. He slammed his knife and fork down on his plate making a huge clatter. She flinched and the older couple at the table next to them turned to stare. “Damn it, Allie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” “It’s all right.” She focused on her plate. Of course it’s not all right, you big oaf. What the hell did I say to put you in such a foul mood? And why the hell would an innocent question affect you this way? He picked up his knife and fork and continued to cut his filet mignon as if sawing through a tree. “No, it’s not all right. I was rude and you were only trying to be nice. I’m sorry.” She put her own silverware down and folded her hands in her


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lap. “What happened to them?” His eyes flew to hers and he stopped cutting, his silverware suspended in mid-air. He set the utensils down and looked around. The older couple had returned to their own dinner, and none of the other diner’s paid them any attention. “My parents are dead. I had a brother and two sisters who died in infancy.” Allie nodded. Even though she was sorry, she wouldn’t say the words. Words couldn’t bring a person back. Just like prayers couldn’t bring a person back or bargains or pleading to God or rivers and oceans of tears. “What about your family?” Mikael asked. “The same. Well, almost. My father left when my sister and I were very young. I don’t really remember him. My sister died when she was fifteen and my mother died two years ago.” “Was it sudden with your sister?” Mikael seemed to also understand saying sorry was pointless. “No. She’d been ill for a long time.” “And your mother?” “That was sudden.” “You have no other family?” “None who want to claim me. What about you?” “I have a cousin. Nickolai. He’s living with me right now. We sort of watch out for each other.” “You’re lucky then.” His silence told her he thought himself anything but lucky. * * * They walked back to her apartment side by side, but not

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touching. The companionship they’d experienced earlier had disappeared and it made Mikael sick. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings, yet it seemed he had. Several times he attempted to reach out to take her hand, but pulled back at the last minute, unable to take the rejection if she turned away from him. They were two of a kind, both alone in the world, their families gone. Mikael had spent almost two centuries living alone and still wasn’t used to it, but Allie’s pain was still raw, still new. “Was your dinner good?” she asked. She kicked some dead leaves out of her way, sending them scattering. “Yes, very.” “I’m sure you’ve eaten in much better restaurants.” “I’ve eaten in much worse, too.” “Like where?” He put his hands in his coat pockets to keep from reaching out and stroking her cheek or touching her hair. “Well, there was Brazil. We were in the jungle and ate lizard cooked over a fire. It was half charred and half raw.” She shuddered. “It’s amazing you didn’t get sick. People can die eating like that.” “I’m pretty indestructible.” “Where’s the best place you ate?” He had been in some of the fanciest, most expensive restaurants in the world, had dined with royalty and paupers, alone and among hundreds. “I would have to say when I was a boy and my family sat down together for a meal. There was always laughter and jokes and love. I remember the love most of all.”


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“Tell me of the places you’ve been.” “Everywhere. You name it and I’ve been there or at least traveled through it.” “Where’s your favorite?” “My favorite is always where I am at the moment.” She put her own hands in her coat pockets and looked down the street. “My, you are the diplomat, aren’t you?” He smiled, relieved to hear the teasing note in her voice. “I can be when I want to be, but it’s the truth. I’ve found that you are where you need to be.” She looked up at him, her head tilted to the side. “And at the moment you need to be in Patience?” She sounded a little incredulous that anyone would want to be in Patience. “At the moment, yes.” “But not for long,” she pointed out. Ah, so his leaving was a sore point with her. That meant she wanted him to stay, that she felt at least something for him. A little tiny part of him surged in pleasure. “When are you leaving for England?” “I’ve been preparing to leave all week.” He should leave tomorrow. He should get out now, when he could, before his feelings mushroomed into something neither of them could handle. “So tell me, little rani, have you traveled?” “Oh, sure,” she said. “I’ve been all the way to Portland and back.” He chuckled and reached out to grab her hand and she curled her fingers around his. Relieved beyond anything she hadn’t pulled away, he had to admit pulling away would have been the wisest thing to do.

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Sharon Cullen “Does it work?” she asked. “Does what work?” She looked up at him again with those huge green eyes he

could fall into. “You’re an incredibly sad man, Mikael Butler. You travel constantly. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re running from something. I just want to know if it works, because maybe I’d like to try it.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, amazed she saw in him what no other had. “No. It doesn’t work.” “So, why don’t you stop?” “Because it’s all I know how to do.” They were almost to her apartment and Mikael slowed his steps, not yet ready for the evening to end. He found a park bench and sat, tugging Allie down next to him. “Where did you get your fascination for weapons?” He stroked the sensitive skin between her thumb and index finger. Her eyes dilated and her breath came out a little labored. “I don’t really remember.” “Why weapons? Why not something like antique spoons?” “Wars weren’t fought with spoons.” Lightning bolts of desire shot through his body. Heat pooled in his groin and he shifted to ease the tightness of his denims. “It seems you have an obsession with war and death.” She stilled. Her eyes went blank. Just as fast the blank look disappeared. If Mikael hadn’t been watching he would have missed her reaction. Even now he wondered if he saw it at all. Bringing her hand up to his lips he placed a kiss on the spot he’d been rubbing. What had he said to cause such an intense reaction?


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She stood, pulling her hand away from his mouth. “I’m cold and I need to get home.” He jumped up and followed her. As she stuffed her hands into her coat pocket and bent her head against the cold wind he reached her side and grabbed her elbow, swinging her around. “If you liked the weapons we saw yesterday, I have some at my home I’d like to show you. Like you, they fascinate me and through my travels I’ve collected quite a few. Come to my home and let me show them to you.” She looked at him, her head tilted to the side in that way she had when she thought too hard. He’d known her a week and already could read her so well. He smiled to himself. Any other woman would be appalled at his suggestion, but he knew he had piqued Allie’s interest. * * * “So then he offered to show me his weapon collection.” Allie checked out the last book and handed it to ten-year-old Eli Greenberg who stood in front of the desk, shifting from one foot to the other. She smiled at the young boy, who blushed, grabbed his books and bolted from the library. It hadn’t been two minutes after Allie walked through the doors of the library before Martha jumped on her. Apparently the whole town buzzed with the news that Mikael had wrestled Allie from Steven Lane. Allie could only roll her eyes. This was such a small town. Didn’t they have anything better to do with their time than talk about the town librarian and the deputy? “Of course not,” Martha said when Allie voiced her question out loud. “Especially when it’s not only the librarian and the deputy,

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but a rich, mysterious man, too. A rich, gorgeous, mysterious man.” “Oh for goodness sake, Martha, this is Patience, Maine not Payton Place.” Martha laughed. Things got busy around Toddler Story Time but when it died down again Martha glued herself to Allie’s side. “Show you his weapons, huh?” Today Martha wore black and orange, Halloween colors, and looked halfway put together. Except the red shoes didn’t quite match. “I’ve heard it called a lot of things, but that one escaped me.” Martha wiggled her gray eyebrows. Allie snorted and turned away, heading to her office and some blessed peace and quiet. Unfortunately, Martha followed, tenacious being her middle name. “So, do you like the man?” Martha didn’t really mean ‘do you like the man?’ She meant, ‘Are you going to fall madly in love with the man? Have a torrid affair, then marry the man so you can create many babies with the man?’ Allie sighed and plopped down in her desk chair, scattering bits and pieces of paper. “He’s nice.” Martha sat in the lone chair across from Allie’s desk and settled in, her blinking, pumpkin earrings swaying. “He’s very goodlooking.” Allie picked up a pen and a piece of paper, hoping Martha would take the hint. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that several times.” “There’s something mysterious about him,” Martha said, tapping her chin with an orange painted fingernail.


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“He’s very secretive about his past.” Martha scrunched up her face, deep in thought. Allie was well aware her friend loved a mystery and Mikael Butler was a mystery. “Maybe he’s an ex-convict and broke out of jail and he’s on the run. Or, no, maybe he’s a rock star in hiding and that’s where he got all his money.” “I don’t think so.” Allie couldn’t picture Mikael on stage in front of thousands of people, singing and gyrating. “Okay, maybe he’s an eccentric tycoon.” Now that sounded a little more plausible and in fact was a theory she’d been working on herself. “Maybe, but then he could just be a very private person who doesn’t like to give much away until he knows someone better.” Martha waved her hand in dismissal, apparently the idea way too conventional for her. She sat forward in her seat and pinned Allie with a stare. “Whatever he is, it’s a step in the right direction that he invited you to his home. I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Allie bent her head to the paperwork in front of her. “We have a mutual interest in old weapons. That’s all there is to it.” * * * Mikael walked into the dining room and sat down at the cherry table that could easily sit twelve but sat two at the moment. “We’re having company tonight.” He tapped the table with his fingers.

The man seated across from him lowered his newspaper a few inches and stared at Mikael over the top. “Company? Here? You?” “Don’t be so damn sarcastic.” He needed coffee, bad, before he could deal with his cousin. He stood and went to the sideboard

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where an always full pot waited. As he poured a cup and scooped some scrambled eggs onto a plate, Nickolai lowered the paper to the table and watched Mikael with his black eyes. “She must be someone special for you to invite her to your home.” “I never said it was a she.” Nick shrugged and took a sip of his own coffee. “Didn’t have to. Why would you invite a man here?” “As a matter of fact, I met someone who likes antique weapons almost as much as I. This person is coming tonight to view my collection.” He sat at the table and dug into his breakfast. “A woman who likes weapons. I was right, she is special.” Mikael ignored his cousin and concentrated on eating, frowning at the watery scrambled eggs. They needed to hire a cook. Neither he nor Nick were very good in the culinary arts, even after two hundred years of trying. He felt Nick’s blatant stare on him. Sighing, he put his fork down and pushed the unappetizing breakfast away, sat back and stretched his legs out, cradling his coffee cup in his hand. Now, coffee they could make, and did. Prodigious amounts of it. “Okay, her name’s Allie and I met her at the museum. She’s the town librarian.” Nickolai’s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into the thick, black hair falling over his brow. “The town librarian? Oh, Mikael, you’re slipping, my friend. Since when do you go out with librarians?” He said the word ‘librarians’ like it was some disease, then shuddered. The only thing that kept Mikael from kicking his cousin out of his house or in the teeth—-it didn’t matter which—-was the fact


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Nickolai had been with him through thick and thin. If it hadn’t been for Nickolai, Mikael would have gone mad by now, spending the rest of eternity in Bedlam. “So, are you going to tell me about this librarian or are you going to leave me in suspense all day?” Mikael stood and took his coffee cup with him. “I believe I’ll leave you in suspense all day.” He walked out of the room as Nick’s laughter followed him through the house.

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Chapter 4 Too nervous to actually get out and walk the few steps to his door, Allie sat in her car, listening to the engine ping as it cooled. Would he kiss her again? She wanted him to kiss her again. Like he did the first day they met. She wanted a soul-shattering, earth-moving, mind-blowing kiss. Just like the last one. “Get a grip, Allison.” Great, now he had her talking to herself. The man had truly done a number on her. She looked up at the imposing house. And up and up. It was huge, bigger than any house she had ever seen. She had heard about the Banner mansion and caught glimpses of it from the road, but had never been this close. In the winter, after the leaves had fallen from the trees, she could see it from Patience, sitting way up on the hill, looking down on the little town like a revered patriarch. The front doors alone were at least double her height and as she stared at them one swung open and Mikael stepped out onto the flagstone porch. She took a deep breath and climbed from the car, trying to banish all thoughts of a kiss and concentrate on knives and swords.


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His smile of greeting went a long way in softening the danger lurking within him. She placed her hand in his outstretched one. Huge, callused, warm and inviting, it made her feel safe and protected. For the first time since agreeing to come out here, she allowed herself to relax. “Welcome to my home,” he said, shutting the massive door behind her. His smoother than honey voice echoed off the walls of the immense entranceway and wrapped around her. Mikael took her coat and hung it in a concealed hall closet. “Ready for the official tour?” he asked, taking her hand in his. Antique rugs and furniture, stone fireplaces, marble floors and ceilings depicting scenes from the bible decorated the beautiful rooms. He showed her a few hidden passageways and views that took her breath away. However, magnificent and stunning in its beauty as it was, it lacked that lived in feeling that made mere mortar and bricks a home. Nothing of Mikael showed in any of the rooms - no pictures, no mementos of his travels, no magazines lying about or stacked on tables, no newspapers, no books recently put down, waiting to be picked up again. It felt as if the house were unoccupied, or...as if the owner wasn’t planning on staying long enough to leave any personal touches behind. They finished the tour in the dining room and Allie trailed her hand along the cherry table, imagining elegant ladies in ball gowns and gentlemen in black tuxes dining here. A man strolled in, startling her out of her strange musings. Tall, with black hair, and dark skin, his black eyes glittered with amusement. He walked towards Allie, his hand extended in greeting. “My lady,” he said, “’tis a pleasure to meet you. My cousin informed me we

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were having a guest for dinner tonight. He did not, however, inform me our guest would be so beautiful.” “Thank you.” Flattered, she turned to Mikael and caught the scowl on his face and the dark look he shot the man. Taking her elbow he drew her closer to him. “Allie, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Nickolai Giovanni. Nick, this is Allie.” Nickolai grabbed her hand and made a half bow, bending to place a kiss on her hand, a very romantic, very old-fashioned gesture. His speech and mannerisms reminded her of a long gone era and if Mikael hadn’t already captured Allie’s heart she would consider giving it to Nickolai. As if sensing her thoughts Mikael frowned and pulled Allie farther away. “Unfortunately, Nickolai can’t stay tonight. He has pressing business to attend to.” Nickolai arched one black eyebrow at his cousin and grinned. “Sadly, he is right,” he turned back to Allie. “Though I could easily be persuaded to cancel my pressing business. You have only to ask.” Allie bit back a smile as Mikael shot daggers at his cousin. She took a step away from Nickolai, secretly pleased another man’s attention had caused such a furious response in Mikael. “Thank you Nickolai, but I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your business.” With a contrived, sad sigh, Nickolai turned and walked back through the door in which he had arrived. Allie smiled and looked at Mikael. He had a very serious, very ferocious scowl on his face. “He’s very nice.” She had to bite back another smile as Mikael’s icy gaze raked her. My, he was jealous. Mikael grunted. “Come on. Let’s see those weapons.”


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Allie entered the room and gasped. They were magnificent, making the arsenal in the town museum look like kitchen knives. Row upon row of sabers and swords hung on the walls. Daggers of various sizes rested under glass enclosures. Some were plain, merely made of forged steel, while others, elaborately encrusted in jewels, were made of gold and silver. They were as big as her hand or as long as her arm. She turned in a complete circle and tried to look at everything at once. * * * Mikael leaned a shoulder against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. Allie brought light into this room with her cinnamon hair and pale skin. For being such a tiny thing the electricity she generated could fell a bigger man than he. Tonight she wore a dark gray wool skirt that stopped a good four inches above her knees. Black tights, black ankle boots and a black sweater set completed the outfit. She stood for long moments in the exact center of the room, those light green eyes touching here and there, skipping to the next thing that caught her attention or staying for long moments on one particular piece. He wanted to watch her, drink her in, while her mind was occupied. He felt as if he’d been thirsting for her, afloat on a ship with nothing but salt water to quench his craving. Then suddenly, out of the mirage that had become his life, stepped Allie, his very own bottle of crystal water. She walked across the room to peer into a display case. Whatever piece of metal caught her attention made him jealous. He wanted those eyes on him, caressing him like they caressed the weapon, drinking him in like they drank in the weapon. His body tingled with desire.

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Sharon Cullen His eyes roamed her body, starting with tiny feet encased in

those black boots and moving to her calves and thighs and perfect rear end. The sweater emphasized breasts that would fit perfectly in his hands. His mouth salivated at the thought of taking those breasts in his mouth. He shifted, his trousers suddenly tight. She could easily become his addiction and he had a feeling one taste of Allison the Librarian wouldn’t be enough. She glided over to another case and ran her hand along the smooth glass. He pushed away from the wall and walked to her, uncertain if his intentions were to join her in her perusal of his weapons or to drag her to the floor and make love to her. Whoa, boy. He reined himself in, stepping back from those thoughts. That’s going way too far, way too fast, Butler. Fantasizing is one thing. Acting on those fantasies is not an option. No way, no how. Allie wasn’t like the others. With Allie it would be a forever kind of thing and Mikael didn’t do forever anything with a woman. He took a mental step back and peered into the glass with her. A small dagger gleamed in the overhead lights, the emeralds in the handle reminding him of her eyes. He opened the glass case and removed the dagger, holding it out, the hilt towards her, the blade pointing to him. “Here, hold it.” She took a step back and put her hands behind her. Her eyes went from the dagger to his face. “I couldn’t possibly.” “Take it, Allie. Hold it. It’s mine remember? It’s not like you’ll get in trouble or anything.” She reached out and ran a finger along the jewels. Several


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moments passed before she took it in her hand, nestled in her palm, a perfect fit. “It was made for a lady.” The woman who owned the blade was long dead and that saddened him. Of all his women, Serena had been his favorite. Tiny, her hair the color of copper, her eyes a warm honey brown, fun, feisty, shy and demure, they’d enjoyed each other’s company for a long time, longer than the others. Serena was the last person Mikael let himself feel anything for. Experiencing his family members’ deaths had been devastating. Serena’s death almost killed him. Almost. Allie held the dagger, testing its weight, balancing it in her palm. Nickolai would call Allie a keeper. She would be the forever type of woman, a woman who wanted the ring and the white satin wedding dress and the babies. No way on God’s green earth would Mikael have any more children. Watching two die had been more than enough. “It’s amazing,” Allie whispered, holding the dagger up and letting the light catch it. “I can almost feel the history in it. How many people have held this? Was it used for protection? To procure food? Or was it merely for decoration?” “There are others.” He indicated the rest of the room with a sweep of his hand. She placed the jeweled dagger in its nest of dark red velvet. Caressing it one last time, she waited until he lowered the glass lid before turning to the others. He pulled a broadsword off the wall. She took it with one hand and it dropped to the floor with a muffled thud. Her eyes grew wide as she tried to lift it with both hands.

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Sharon Cullen “It’s so heavy,” she said, struggling with the weight of the

weapon. Mikael smiled and lifted it one-handed. “They are heavy.” He placed it back on the wall. “The men who fought with them had to have been very strong.” “Yes. Survival required raw strength in those days.” He had never handled the broadsword in battle, preferring the lighter, swifter, swords when needed. He plucked his favorite off the wall and passed it to Allie. She took it, turning it this way and that. “Much lighter,” she said. “That one’s my favorite.” She did a few very amateurish thrusts, then handed it back to him, handle first, like he had done with the dagger. * * * They retired to the sitting room. Comfortable leather couches and chairs faced a big screen TV and a floor to ceiling stone fireplace. Allie settled into the corner of the couch while Mikael started a fire. When the flames leapt to life he brushed his hands off and sat at the other end of the same couch, angling his body towards her. With a glass of wine in their hands and the fire sending a warm glow through the room, it was very romantic. Kiss me, she silently commanded, throwing her thoughts out, hoping he’d catch it and obey. She shouldn’t want his kisses so much. She shouldn’t want anything to do with this man who insisted on returning to England. But she wanted it so much she could hardly stand it. The far away look in his eyes and the furrow between his


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brows warned her something troubled him. “What are you thinking?” He looked at her in surprise. “I’m thinking I want nothing more than to kiss you.” Yes! Her heart began to race. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.” He grinned. “But...I’m also thinking it wouldn’t be a good idea.” Her heart plummeted. “And why is that?” He pierced her with a steady gaze filled with desire, longing and such an intense sadness it made her gasp. “Because, Allie, I don’t think I could stop with just kissing. Because I want more and I can’t have more.” Her heart stood still. “I never said you couldn’t have more.” It was a bold thing to say, something she had never even hinted at with another man. But she had long ago realized Mikael Butler wasn’t like any other man. He grinned again. “Let me rephrase that. I can’t take more than that. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” “Because you’re leaving.” Not a question but a statement. A sad statement. “Because I’m leaving.” “Do you have to go?” What she really wanted to say was, don’t go. He sighed and turned to look into the fire. The silence stretched so long Allie gave up hope of getting any sort of answer. “Yes,” he finally said. “I have to go.” “Is it another woman? Are you married?” Oh, God, please don’t tell me I just propositioned a married

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man. He shook his head, still looking at the flames. “No. It’s nothing like that.” She took a sip of wine, relief mingling with the tangy taste of grapes, and decided to throw caution to the wind. “Maybe I’m crazy Mikael, but I feel there’s something between us and I think you feel it too. I can’t help but wonder why you’re fighting it.” A weary but determined sigh escaped him. “There are things you don’t know about me, Allie. Things I can’t tell you.” “And these things are keeping you from getting close to me?” He looked at her with torment in his eyes. “Yes.” “There are things you don’t know about me either, Mikael. Things I have no intention of telling you.” She leaned closer to him. “So we both have our secrets. As long as we accept that about each other, why can’t we have something here?” She sat back and looked into the fire. “Maybe it’s good you’re going to England because I can’t have a long term anything with you.” She turned to stare at him, putting it all on the line, stripping herself bare. “Having said that, I now have to say I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.” The firelight flickered across his face, turning his hair shades of red and black. The silver hoop in his ear twinkled and sparkled. Allie held her breath. Never before had she asked a man to have an affair, but then again never before had she encountered anyone like Mikael Butler. He caused her to throw her long held beliefs, her pent up fears, out the window. He shook his head and she released her breath, her lungs aching from holding it so long. “I can’t, Allie. Not that it isn’t a wonderful offer.” He stood


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and paced to the window with a panther-like grace. “You’re different than any other woman I’ve met and if given half the chance I could fall in love with you.” He grinned, but it wavered, then turned down at the corners. “Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if I haven’t already fallen half in love with you.” He walked over to her. Reaching down he touched her cheek, smoothing his thumb over her eyebrow, his eyes shadowed. “But I want more than what you’re offering. I’m afraid one night or one week is not enough for me. If I touch you, Allie, it will be forever for me and that’s a mighty long time. Longer than even you could imagine.” He let his hand fall and took a step back. Forever. No, it wasn’t a long time. Not as long as he thought. What had she been thinking? He was right, of course. Something so much more than one night or one week shimmered between them. When her sister died Allie vowed never to put someone in the position of watching her suffer. She knew first hand that pain. No way could she do that to someone else. She stood and put her wine glass on the table beside her. Looking into those crystal eyes her heart seemed to break. “You’re right, of course. You have your reasons for not getting involved and I have mine.” She reached up and touched his soft, warm skin and the stubble of beard. “Thank you for showing me your collection.” He grabbed her hand and held it to his face. With his other hand he reached out and caught her around the waist, pulling her to him. His lips were soft and warm and tasted of the exquisite wine they’d been drinking. He slanted his head one way, then the other. It was not the gentle kiss they had experienced before. This time he pulled memories from her, memories of their time together and of a

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love they couldn’t have and, God help her, she did the same. One kiss and then she had to turn her back on him, on them, and leave forever.


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Chapter 5 Allie ignored the stack of paperwork in front of her and stared out the small window of her cramped office. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, a direct result of no sleep the night before, as humiliation dragged her down, pulling her sinking spirits with it. She had hoped that sitting at her desk and allowing the waves of humiliation to roll over her, the feeling would go away. But each wave hit her like a Mack truck. They kept coming, one after the other, until she couldn’t breathe. She had laid it all on the line last night, bared herself in a way she had never done before. From the pain racing through her, she would never do it again. She had left Mikael’s, hoping to get home before the waterfall of tears let loose. Several moments after pulling onto the deserted road, headlights in her rear view mirror caught her attention. Mikael lived at the end of an unpaved road. The Banner mansion had been the only

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house built up there. Nikolai had left earlier. The only car on the road should be hers but the headlights stayed with her all the way back to her apartment. When she pulled into her usual spot in front of the beauty shop, the car parked a few blocks away. This morning, when she left for work, the car was gone. Get a grip, girl. No one watched you at the laundry mat and no one followed you home last night. Of course, it could have been Mikael, making sure she got home okay. The moment she walked into the library Martha pounced on her, saw the look in Allie’s eyes, pursed her lips and remarkably, blessedly, kept silent. Without asking, she had taken over Toddler Story Time. Allie didn’t have it in her to spend a half an hour with a dozen toddlers. Not today. Today she wanted to lock herself in her office and lick her wounds but as soon as Toddler Story Time ended, Martha burst through the door and planted herself in the chair. “By the look on your face I can guess two things. One, he showed you his weapon collection and you were disappointed, or two, he didn’t show you his weapon collection and you were disappointed.” Allie put down the pencil she’d been fiddling with and rubbed her bloodshot eyes with the heel of her hands. “I saw the weapon collection.” “I wasn’t really referring to the weapon collection.” Allie sighed. “I did something really stupid, Martha.” Her friend reached over and patted Allie’s hand. “I threw myself at him.” She groaned and hung her head, burying her hands in her hair. “I offered myself to him on a silver platter.” “And the fool turned you down,” Martha concluded.


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“I wouldn’t call him a fool, but, yes, he turned me down.” “Then that was foolish on his part, making him a fool.” “No. He was right.” She laughed again, but this time it ended in a hiccup which would have ended in a sob if she hadn’t cut it off in time. “I was the fool. I’ve never done anything like that before.” “What did he say?” She raised her head and stared out the window. “He said there’s too much about him I don’t know. I was stupid to even bring it up. I can’t have any sort of relationship.” Martha rolled her eyes. “I wish you would get it out of your mind that you can’t have a relationship with a man.” Allie’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. “We’ve been through this before.” “There are lots of men who wouldn’t run when they found out,” Martha said, her tone soft with sympathy. “I can’t let someone stand by and watch, Martha. I can’t do that to him, not after I had to do it.” Martha sighed. “Did you tell him?” Allie’s back went up. “No. And don’t you go and tell him either!” “Don’t you think that’s his decision to make?” Allie leaned forward, fury replacing the humiliation. “It’s my decision to make.” Martha’s lips got that pursed look again, like she’d just eaten a rotten apple. “You won’t change my mind on this, Martha. Ever.” Her shoulder’s sagging, Allie’s best friend stood and left the room. Allie slumped in her chair, exhausted, humiliated, furious, and now feeling guilty.

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Sharon Cullen * * * Mikael stormed through the entranceway of his home, the

sound of his boots echoing off the walls, and slammed into the dining room. Nickolai turned the page of his newspaper and sipped at his cup of coffee while Mikael poured his own cup and took a fortifying drink. It had been a hell of a night. A sleepless night. He couldn’t get the picture of Allie out of his mind. He had wanted nothing more than to lay her down on the soft carpet in front of the fireplace and make exquisite love to her over and over again. He got hard just thinking about her cries of joy and pleas for release, a perpetual state since he’d met the enchanting librarian. “Khul. Johai. Dinili.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Shit.” Nickolai lowered his paper and stared at him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you curse in two languages, phral.” Mikael ignored his cousin. He had done the right thing by turning her away, even if he was miserable and hadn’t slept a wink and walked around lusting after her. He did the right thing. He took a seat at the table and gulped his scalding coffee. “Did you find anything?” Nickolai raised an eyebrow and nodded. “They’re coming. Some are already here.” “Giovannis?” “Worse. Tremonts.” “Shit.” Nickolai nodded again. “Yeah, I kinda thought that’s what you’d say. You ready to go?” Mikael gazed out the bay window at the tree whose leaves had


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turned a bright yellow. No. I’m not ready to go to England. Not yet. Not until I clear up this business with Allie. “There’s not much more they can do to me, is there?” Nickolai shook his head. “No. They seem content to leave you alone for now.” “I’m staying.” Nickolai looked at him for some time, then nodded. “So what happened to the librarian?” Mikael took a sip of coffee and stared at the yellow tree, watching the leaves fall and carpet the ground beneath. “Nothing.” “I liked her. She’s not your usual type. I get the feeling she wouldn’t like a quickie relationship like you’re used to.” “Yeah. My thoughts, exactly.” Except he didn’t want a quickie relationship. Not this time. Not with Allie. He wanted more. He wanted it all. He wanted the impossible. “You know, it doesn’t have to be that way. You could always tell her, let her decide.” The dreams of things he could never have evaporated and Mikael laughed. “And have her throw me in the funny farm? No, thanks.” Nickolai shrugged and turned back to his paper and coffee. I did the right thing. So why the hell did the right thing feel so damn bad? * * * Allie sensed his presence the second he stepped through the library doors. She had hoped to hide in the stacks where she looked for

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research material. She had hoped Martha would keep her mouth shut for once. She should have known that wouldn’t happen, not today when nothing seemed to go her way. Pulling out a book, she ignored the huge man behind her. “Allie?” With a sigh she turned, startled at how close he stood. “What are you doing here, Mikael?” If the circles under his eyes were any indication, he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night either. He wore a gray sweatshirt, his perpetual leather jacket and a well worn pair of jeans that molded every muscle in his thighs, his hair was mussed and his earring glittered in the library’s overhead lights. A day’s worth of stubble shadowed his face. “I need to talk to you. I feel terrible about last night.” Her humiliation increased ten-fold. She prayed the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Honestly, couldn’t she get just one break today? “There’s nothing to talk about.” She turned to shelve the book she’d just pulled out, but Mikael grabbed her shoulder, turning her around to face him. She held the tome against her breasts like a shield and his eyes flickered to the book, then back to her. “I know I should leave well enough alone. But I can’t seem to do that. You’re special, Allie. I’ve never met anyone like you before and that’s why I can’t be anything other than a friend.” “Oh, please, Mikael, not the friend thing, okay? I can’t possibly be humiliated any more if you ask me to be friends.” His tormented look told her this was just as painful for him as it was for her. “The last thing I wanted was to humiliate you. I know you


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Allie, what you offered was a once in a lifetime thing. It didn’t come lightly and believe me, I didn’t take it as such.” “Please, Mikael, just let it go. Forget it.” “I can’t forget it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Can’t you see? I can’t forget it.” Anger surged through her. Obviously, her stupid offer was not going to go quietly into the night. Of all the asinine things she had ever done or said this had to take the cake. “Fine. I’ll be your friend. Is that what you want? Does that make you feel better? Ease your guilt for the poor little librarian?” His look turned cautious. “No. But it’s all I can ask for.” “No. You could ask for more and you’d probably get it.” She closed her eyes and groaned. Hell, hadn’t she learned her lesson last night? Why would she put the same offer on the table again? “Please, Allie. Don’t make this any harder.” Mortified, she ducked her head, not wanting him to see the fierce blush creeping up her face. How many women had Mikael turned down in his lifetime? Hundreds? She plunked the book down on the shelf, for once not caring if it was in the right place, and walked away. Mikael followed. “Have lunch with me today.” She stopped in the middle of the library. Mr. McDougal sat at the table reading the National Enquirer. Mothers picked out books for their kids. Various patrons sat on the numerous couches, some openly staring, others pretending they were reading. By noon, the whole town would hear the story and her humiliation would be complete. Who the hell cared? If they wanted a show, she’d give them a show. “Why are you doing this to me? Why don’t you just walk

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away and never look back?” Mikael looked around as if realizing for the first time the show they were putting on. “I thought about doing just that and realized I can’t leave you.” He kept his voice low. “You can’t leave me, but you won’t have me other than as a friend. And you men think women send out mixed signals?” Her voice rose. Those who had been pretending to read gave up the pretense. Mikael ran a hand through his hair, a pained look spreading across his face. “I’m messing this up, aren’t I?” She plunked her hands down on her hips and glared at him. “You could say that.” “I’m sorry, really, really sorry my past won’t allow us anything more than friendship. Believe me, if I could change my past I would. But if I changed it, I would never have met you. And not meeting you is something I don’t even want to consider.” She stared at him in stunned shock for long minutes while everyone looked on, their collective breaths held, waiting for her response. No one had ever said anything that wonderful to her in her entire life. She swallowed. Mikael watched her, his crystal eyes boring into hers. Her mind told her to run far away while her heart slowly melted all over the library’s new carpet. Suddenly, the anger deserted her and she slumped, her hands falling from her hips to her sides. “You were right to begin with. There can’t be anything between us because of your past and my future.” He looked confused. “What does your future have to do with it?” “The same thing your past does. I’ll be your friend, Mikael, until you return to England. Then I want you to promise to never look


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me up if you ever come back this way. When you leave, I want you gone from my life forever.” Lord help her, she hoped she was doing the right thing. “I don’t understand, Allie.” “There are things neither of us will understand about the other. We just need to accept that.” Allie turned away and people buried their noses in their books or newspapers. Yup, sure enough, the whole town was going to hear about Allie and Mikael before noon. * * * They became friends. For Allie it was wonderful, it was amazing, it was painful. It was hell. She loved being with him. The more time they spent together the more she fell under his spell and the more she understood her pledge not to have him around when the bad times came. On Wednesday Mikael told Allie the Gypsies had arrived in Patience. “Promise you won’t go to them without me,” he said, pointing his fork at her. “I don’t understand these ambivalent feelings you have towards these people. It’s like you hold a personal grudge against them.” She saw the fury in his eyes before he quickly masked it. Ah, part of his past. She had ventured into the Forbidden Zone. His past intrigued her, she wanted to know what or who had put that sadness in his eyes, but he never said and she never asked because by asking she would open herself to his own questions about her future. A future she didn’t have. “Lunch tomorrow?” he asked. Allie shook her head as she shoved a French fry in her mouth.

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“Can’t. I have a standing appointment on Thursdays.” “Can I go?” “No. Not to this. This I have to do alone.” * * * His time with Allie was sweet hell. Being with her, spending time with her, was sweeter than anything he had ever known. Not being able to touch her, hold her or kiss her, was hell. For their own reasons they had drawn an invisible line in the sand, neither willing to cross it. Reasons they weren’t willing to share with the other. She wouldn’t tell him why her future got in the way of a relationship and he could never ask because by asking he would have to reveal his past. Something he would never, ever do. So, he had to content himself with their daily lunches and conversations that skirted around the things they really wanted to talk about. And now, today, he didn’t even have lunch to look forward to because of some damn standing appointment she wouldn’t tell him about and he couldn’t ask about. He and Nickolai sat in the diner a few doors from the library. Mikael looked out the window for some sign of Allie. “Anything new to report?” He searched the faces on the sidewalk. It was a warm day for October and the citizens of Patience took advantage of it. Nickolai took another bite of his burger and shook his head. “All’s quiet on the Gypsy front,” he said, smirking at his own joke. Mikael grimaced. “They don’t know I’m here do they?” “Don’t see why they would. They haven’t looked for you in years.” Mikael sighed and took a sip of his coffee. “You can never be


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too careful, though.” “It’s not as if they can kill you, you know.” “No. But they have other tricks up their sleeves.” Nickolai shook his head. “Damn stupid if you ask me. That feud was over two hundred years ago. Christoff needs to turn the page, get on with something else.” “You know how they think, simensa. Time means nothing to them. It could have happened yesterday or a thousand years ago and they still would feel the same.” “Yeah, but it would be nice if we knew what the feud was about.” Mikael laughed. That was the great irony of his curse. At the time, the feud between the Giovanni’s and Tremont’s was so old no one remembered what started it. That didn’t matter to the Tremonts or to Mikael’s grandfather. A feud was a feud and all manner of weapons were used against the enemy. Even amriyas. Nickolai laughed with him. “Ah Kralis, what a life, eh?” Mikael’s smile vanished as his stomach tightened in knots. “Do not call me king. I stopped being their king a long time ago.” Nickolai shook his head. “Never. They’ll never let it happen. Nashti zhas vorta po drom o bango.” You cannot walk straight when the road is bent. It was an old Romany saying. Mikael smiled, the ancient language reminding him of happier, normal times. “O ushalin zhala sar o kam mangela.” “The shadow moves as the sun commands,” Nickolai interpreted. “Do you think that just because you command you are not their king they will follow? Si khohaimo may pachivalo sar o chachimo.” There are lies more believable than the truth.

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Sharon Cullen Mikael spotted Allie hurrying down the street, her cinnamon

curls bouncing in the breeze. He followed her with his eyes, wondering where she went and what she did every Thursday afternoon. As she entered a building a few blocks down, a Rom strolled down the street, his head bent, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Yes, they were here. The Gypsies had arrived. Tremonts, no less. A flash of foreboding curled through him. * * * After lunch he strolled in the direction of the building Allie had disappeared into. The Rom he had seen earlier sat on a bench, a baseball hat pulled low over his eyes, his hands stuffed into his pockets. All outward appearances suggested he slept, but Mikael caught the glitter of his black eyes from beneath the ball cap. He stopped in front of the building and looked up. Patience Medical Center. Why did Allie have a standing appointment with the Patience Medical Center? He contemplated waiting for her, then decided against it. He didn’t want her to think he followed her, so he continued on. Signs of his people were everywhere. Posters stapled to telephone poles announced the Gypsy Carnival. Dark skinned people dressed in bright colors strolled along the streets, looking in shop windows. By the weekend they would have set up their ofisas on the outskirts of town and started milking the gadje out of their money. Mikael shook his head. Some things never changed and the Gypsy people were an excellent example. For the most part, their lives were pretty much as they had been two hundred years ago. The vardo, or brightly covered wagons they had traveled in centuries ago, had


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given way to Lincolns and Cadillacs but they still traveled as either a vitsa, clan, or kumpania, a tribe made up of several clans. The Tremonts tended to travel as a vitsa, sticking together. They would set up camp for several days or weeks, depending on how their mood struck them and how the law received them, then pull up stakes and head to another town or city. Always traveling - the trademark of the Gypsy. Mikael gave up that life long ago, having grown tired of being king, of solving petty problems and disturbances. He had wanted to lead his own life. Being the Kralis had not allowed him that luxury so he turned his back on his people, an unheard of thing for the Romany, and set out on his own. He never regretted his decision. The Giovanni’s had waited patiently for their Kralis to return even though he had said it would never happen. Once, they had grown desperate and attempted to force his return by kidnapping him, but Mikael took care of that and now they didn’t bother him anymore. He made a full circuit of the town, returning to the Patience Medical Center. What did Allie do there every Thursday? The doors opened and she stepped out, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. Mikael stepped into the shadows of a building as Allie bounced down the steps and headed toward the library. The Rom on the park bench stood and ambled away in the same direction.

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Chapter 6 A curl of excitement wound through Allie when they approached the Gypsy carnival. She loved these people with their dark skin and bright clothes and flashing gold teeth. The men called greetings to one another. The women jingled when they walked, the gold coins sewn to their clothes tinkling in the warm October afternoon. “They’re called galbi.” Allie pulled her gaze from the spectacle to glance at Mikael. He walked beside her, a closed expression on his face but she refused to let his sour disposition spoil her day. “What?” He tipped his head to an older Gypsy woman striding past. “The coins sewn to their clothing. They’re called galbi.” “It’s beautiful.” Mikael shrugged and continued walking, his hand enclosing hers as if she were a child easily lost. She didn’t mind. She liked the feel of her hand in his, the warmth of his skin covering hers, and the


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tingle of awareness that rushed through her when they touched. They walked amid the combination of Gypsy and townspeople. Allie nodded to a few people she knew, stopped and talked to some children and continued to stroll with Mikael. Some of the Gypsy people stopped to stare while others whispered behind their hands and pointed. Most skirted wide circles around them, avoiding Mikael and staring at Allie. Several times they spoke the word Kralis in a stage whisper. Allie snuck a look at Mikael to gauge his reaction. He either didn’t realize he caused a commotion or chose to ignore it. She stopped at each of the tents to examine the merchandise while Mikael stood behind her, his arms crossed, a scowl firmly in place. A bright scarf with the colors of the rainbow swirled through it, shimmered in the afternoon sun and Allie knew she had to have it. The Gypsy woman, apparently sensing a sale, sidled up and named a price. Allie dug in her pocket for her money only to have Mikael’s hand clamp down on her arm. He said something to the woman in what had to be Romany. The woman, a furious expression on her face, spat something back. Mikael crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. The woman fell silent and Mikael said something that made the woman’s face turn a mottled shade of red. She waved her hands in the air and stepped closer to Mikael until they stood toe to toe. Her voice rose, people stopped to stare. Allie tugged on Mikael’s arm, ready to put the scarf back. Oblivious, Mikael stood his ground as the woman threw her hands up in defeat and stomped off.

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Sharon Cullen With a grimace Mikael plunked some bills on the table,

grabbed the scarf, shoved it at Allie and strode away, leaving her to trail behind. “Are you hungry?” he asked when she caught up with him. Anger tinged his voice, his face all hard angles and chiseled bone. His jaw flexed in agitation. “Yes, very. Um, thank you for the scarf. I would have paid what she asked.” “I know,” he said, taking her elbow and leading her through the crowd. Any other person would have had to fight his way through the throngs of people. For Mikael, the crowd just opened up. He either didn’t seem to notice, or thought it his due. “She asked an outrageous sum for that scarf,” he said, the anger still evident. “It’s beautiful.” Allie clutched the scarf in one hand while Mikael pulled her around by the other. Mikael grunted. A man, standing in his way, took one look at him and skittered off. “But it wasn’t worth what she wanted for it.” Allie disagreed but kept silent. For some reason Mikael didn’t like the Gypsies and for some reason he knew an awful lot about them. Why didn’t he like them? Why did he know so much about them, including their language? When they arrived at a food tent, Mikael ordered, then haggled with the man over the price. Honestly, couldn’t he just pay what the people asked? He led her to a bench and handed her the food. “It’s bokoli,” he said, taking a bite of his own. Allie eyed it, turning it this way and that, unsure if she really


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wanted to eat it even though it smelled wonderful, spicy and rich. Mikael chewed and swallowed. “It’s like thin pancakes stuffed with meat. Try it.” She took a tentative bite and closed her eyes in ecstasy, the flavors melding in her mouth. They sat on a bench and ate, Allie watching the people walk by, Mikael brooding. “Oh, look Mikael, a fortune teller.” She pointed to a brightly colored tent similar in appearance to the others. “I want my fortune told.” “No.” She turned to him in surprise. “Why not?” He sighed and licked his fingers and Allie suppressed the shiver of desire running through her. She wanted to take those fingers and suck on them herself. He turned to her, his mouth opened to speak, saw the look on her face and hesitated. He glanced away and cleared his throat. “Allie, you can’t tell me you believe in that stuff.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. It could be true. Come on Mikael, be adventurous.” She bounced on the seat. “No.” She harrumphed and scooted down on the bench. Mikael took one look at her, sighed and took her hand in his. “What does Kralis mean?” His eyebrow rose. “Where did you hear that?” “Every time someone looks at you they mutter Kralis. What does it mean?” “Nothing,” he mumbled, looking away.

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Sharon Cullen * * * He shouldn’t have come, but when Allie threatened to go by

herself she hadn’t left him much choice. Now the Tremonts knew he was here and he had to wonder what sort of hell he just set in motion. “So what happened to make you hate the Gypsies so much?” He sighed again. He knew this was a bad idea. “Nothing.” Allie sat up straight and pierced him with those green eyes. She’d draped the scarf around her shoulders and the green in the fabric highlighted her eyes. “Don’t tell me ‘nothing’, Mikael Butler. I know you’re one of them and I know that to be thrown out of their tribe, or whatever they call themselves, you had to have done something really bad.” He looked at her in surprise. “Where did you hear that?” She harrumphed again. “I’m a librarian. I know how to research. The Rom are a tight knit group, rarely letting outsiders in. You know their language, and except for your eyes, you look like them. I can’t figure out where you got the eyes.” She squeezed his hand. “Tell me what happened.” He stared at the sights in front of him. For the first time the full realization that he was in his enemy’s camp hit him and he automatically searched the crowds for any danger, wondering how he could protect himself and Allie at the same time. “Mikael? You’re ignoring me.” His gaze took another circuit of the area. “I’m one third French. That’s where the blue eyes come from.” “You’re two thirds Gypsy?” “Rom. They call themselves Rom.” “What do you call yourself?”


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Once again she startled him with her insight into his soul. Only Allie would sense he didn’t consider himself Rom anymore. “I gave up the Gypsy life a long time ago, Allie. I’m just a man, living the way I choose. And to set the record straight, I wasn’t kicked out, I left.” “What did they do to you to make you leave?” “Plenty.” He pushed away the hurt and pain, the grief and sorrow. Two hundred years hadn’t dimmed any of it. “I’m going to interpret that to mean there’s no way you’ll tell me.” He turned to face her, coming to a fast and somewhat surprising decision. “I’ll tell you. But you have to tell me what you meant when you said we couldn’t have a relationship based on your future.” Her green eyes narrowed and she looked away as her fingers played with the fringe on her scarf. “Fair enough,” she said finally. His heart gave a lurch of anticipation. Finally, he’d learn her secret. “You keep your secrets, Mikael, and I’ll keep mine.” His heart did a dive. Never had he been willing to tell someone of his past, of the betrayal of his grandfather and the curse that changed his life forever. Now, willing to tell all, Allie was unwilling to listen. She stood, disengaging her hand from his. “I’m getting my fortune told whether you like it or not.” She headed off to the fortuneteller’s tent. With a curse, Mikael surged up off the bench and followed, for the first time noticing the stares and whispers. The word Kralis followed him through the crowd. Damn, this was so not a good idea.

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Sharon Cullen * * * On the way to the fortuneteller Allie spied Nickolai with a

Gypsy woman draped around his arm, practically crawling up his side. Nickolai winked at Allie, nodded to Mikael and they seemed to have some sort of unspoken conversation between them. As she approached the colorful tent her steps slowed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. After all, she knew what her future held. What good would it do to have someone confirm it? Mikael walked up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. It was heavy and warm and protective and she wished he would take her in his arms and hug her. Tired of this friendship thing, she wanted Mikael in every way, shape and form. Even though there could be nothing between them, she fantasized of a life together, of nights in front of a fire, cuddled together on the couch, kissing, touching. Making love. The flap of the tent opened and a young woman poked her head out. The woman, much younger than Allie, wasn’t dressed in the traditional clothes but in worn blue jeans and an off white fisherman’s sweater. She smiled and opened the tent flap wider. “Come in,” she said. Allie ducked and entered the dark interior. Mikael followed, his head brushing the top of the tent when he straightened to his full height. His eyes darted around and his brows furrowed in a frown. The woman took one look at Mikael and stepped back, her dark eyes going wide and a little frightened. “Kralis,” she whispered and scurried to the other end of the tent where a table and chairs sat. Allie gave him a baleful stare and took a seat across from the


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woman. Just what in the hell did kralis mean? She settled herself on the hard, metal folding chair. “I’d like my fortune read.” The girl’s eyes darted to Mikael, then back to Allie. She seemed to hesitate. Mikael crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the fortuneteller and Allie had an overpowering urge to get up and kick him in the shin for being so rude and difficult. The Gypsy girl turned back to Allie and pulled Allie’s hand towards her. Her hands were warm and smooth and very comforting. She looked deep into Allie’s eyes. It was very...entrancing. “No bujo,” Mikael said, breaking the spell. The girl looked at Mikael with narrowed eyes. “Of course not.” “What’s bujo?” Allie asked, not taking her eyes off the Gypsy. Mikael unfurled his arms and sauntered farther into the tent, taking up residence beside Allie. “Bujo is a scam the Rom use to get your life savings. They tell you bad things are happening because of tainted money you have. If you bring them your money, they’ll take the curse off and the bad things will stop. They then give you a sealed sack you’re told not to open for several months. When you open it there is no money, just a sack full of paper and the Rom are long gone.” Allie looked to the Gypsy girl for confirmation, but the girl’s eyes were downcast. She reached for a deck of Tarot cards and began shuffling, casting quick, furtive glances Mikael’s way. Mikael smiled at her, baring his teeth causing the girl to jump and look away. * * * Not a novice when it came to reading Tarot cards, Mikael watched closely. His mother had been one of the best drabarni, or

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fortunetellers, in their tribe and even though Rom men never told fortunes, she had taught Mikael all she knew. This girl did a simple three-card spread. The first card represented the past, the middle the present, the last the future. The girl turned over the first card, the Hanged Man, revealing sacrifice and trials. The second card was flipped then the third. A hushed silence filled the tent as everyone stared at the cards. Disgusted and just a little frightened, Mikael reached out and swept the cards off the table. “’Chavaia! That is enough.” He hauled Allie out of her chair and pulled her towards the tent flap. The Gypsy woman, her eyes wide and bright, stood and backed away. Mikael glanced at Allie’s pale face and knew he had to get her out of there. He reached down and pried a card from her fingers, turning it over. It was the middle card, the death card. He threw it across the room and pulled her from the tent. He walked several yards, needing to get as far as possible from the fortuneteller and her prophecies of death. For his own sake, as well as Allie’s. He turned and pulled her into his arms, needing her next to him, to hear her breathing, to feel her heart beat against his. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He didn’t believe in the Tarot readings. They were nonsense, open to too much interpretation by the reader. But still, when he had seen the death card, his heart had stopped and his blood had run cold. “Mikael?” “Hmmm?” “You’re crushing me. I can’t breathe.” He released his hold and looked down at her face. Some of


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the color had returned, but it would be a long time before he forgot the utter lack of color in her face as she held the death card. “I’m sorry, ves’tacha. I should have never let you go in there. Those cards, they aren’t true, it’s just a random shuffle of the deck.” He dragged her to him, not yet ready to let her go. “Is it?” Her words were muffled by his shirt but he didn’t miss the skepticism in them. His heart squeezed at the tiny voice. “Yes, ves’tacha. I promise. It means nothing.” Allie pulled away and took a step back, his arms fell to his sides, his hands clenching into helpless fists. He didn’t believe in that nonsense. Smoke and mirrors. Still, he couldn’t stop from looking around, searching for danger. Anger and rage combined to surge through his body. He would kill anyone who would try to hurt his Allie. On the heels of those thoughts was another, equally as frightening. Did she mean that much to him? He turned his gaze from the milling crowd and looked at her. Tenderness welled up in him and he pushed it away. No, he couldn’t get close to her, couldn’t care about her. They were friends. Nothing more, damn it. Just friends. Her green eyes, serious for once, searched his. And when she smiled the tight band that gripped his chest began to loosen. The cards hadn’t harmed her, danger didn’t lurk in search of Allie. It had all been a terrible mistake, just like his feelings. A mistake. Smoke and mirrors. Still, he reached out to touch her arm, to feel the warmth of her skin, to reassure himself she was okay. “I saw candy apples down that way,” she said, nodding in the direction of some tents. “You want one?” Mikael grimaced. “How can you eat those things? It sticks to

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your teeth.” She laughed and headed for the sweets. “That’s the fun of it,” she called over her shoulder. Mikael watched her walk away, the tension from the fortune teller’s tent and his own traitorous feelings slowly unraveling inside him. The death card obviously hadn’t bothered Allie, but it scared the hell out of him. He groaned, his cinnamon haired witch lengthening the distance between them in search of candy apples. He had meant to keep his distance. After Serena he vowed never to fall for another woman and for the past one hundred plus years he’d stood by that vow. Unfortunately, he never thought he would encounter someone like Allie, someone who could crawl into his skin and work her way through his barriers. He should have left for England a week ago. He should have run when he had the chance. Those carefully erected walls around his heart began to crack and he heard every stress fracture. * * * Bad mistake. Bad, bad, mistake. Allie crunched down on her apple. The sweet flavor of the candy mixed with the tartness of the fruit invaded her mouth. She should never have gone to the fortuneteller. After all, she knew her future. There was no need to put Mikael through that. Not that way. Bad mistake. The look of terror on his face had been horrible to witness. He said he didn’t believe in the cards, said they were a random shuffle of the deck, but Allie saw the truth in his eyes. He believed. It didn’t take a genius to know what the death card meant. It didn’t take an idiot to see the death card loomed not in her future, but in her present.


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She took another bite of apple and snuck a quick look at Mikael who walked beside her, the terror in his eyes gone but the fierce look on his face back. She sighed, he was brooding again. She should tell him it was okay, but she held back because she didn’t want to spoil this day. For as long as she had him, and it wouldn’t be much longer, she would enjoy her time with him, without the thought of death looming in the future. The very near future if the cards were correct. As the day grew late, the setting took the last of its warmth with it and a familiar tightening in her chest told Allie she should head home. But she didn’t want to, not yet. She shivered. “You’re cold,” Mikael said. “Yes. But I don’t want to leave just yet.” He took her elbow and steered her in the direction of town where he’d parked his car. “Come with me. I have something to show you.” They drove into the hills where Mikael pulled off to the side and cut the engine. The approaching darkness obliterated the last of the warm sun. “What are we doing here?” “You’ll see,” he said, using the controls on his side to lower her window a few inches. Cool air blew in and brought with it the scent of bonfires. He had parked atop a big rise, below them the twinkling lights of Patience nestled between the hills. Off to the right stood the Gypsy camp. Allie spotted bonfires being lit and people gravitating toward them. Through the crack in the window, music and singing drifted around them. “This is what I miss the most,” Mikael said, watching the

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scene before him. “The feeling of family. Sitting around the fires, listening to the same stories handed down generation from generation.” He smiled into the darkness. “Sneaking off with your girl.” Allie put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.” The words were inadequate but she didn’t know what else to say. “For whatever happened, whatever they did to you to make you run, I’m sorry.” He continued to watch the festivities. “What would you do,” he asked, staring out the window, “if you could live forever?” She reveled in the notion. Forever. Wow. What a thought. “I would slow down. Everyone today is on overdrive, trying to fit too many things into too little time. I would stop so I could enjoy living. I would travel and not just the tourist travel, I would stay in one place long enough to learn everything I could. If that took ten years or twenty then so be it.” “And what would you do when you finished traveling? When you had learned all you could?” He turned to stare at her with crystal eyes that said her answer mattered. “I would do it all again because you never stop learning. There’s always something new around the corner.” “What of friendships? Relationships?” Allie drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, concentrating on his question as if it were the most important thing in the world. Because, she sensed, it was the most important thing to Mikael. “I read somewhere that friends enter your life for a reason and once that reason has been satisfied they move on and another takes their place.” “Wouldn’t it bother you that your friends were getting old and dying and you weren’t?” She looked deep into those crystal eyes and wondered where


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this intensity came from. “You don’t necessarily have to grow old to die Mikael.” His tormented gaze rested somewhere over her shoulder. “No. You’re right.” She grabbed his hand. “To be given the gift of time would be wonderful,” she said on a sigh. “You call it a gift. I call it a curse.” She shook her head. He didn’t get it. “Just think of all the things you could see, the advances in medicine, the technology. You could watch the world take shape, then change and take shape again.” She got excited just thinking about it. “Think about the last two hundred years, Allie. The battles fought, the wars won and lost, the people who lived and died and barely survived. In the last two hundred years there have been two world wars not to mention the hundreds upon hundreds of smaller wars. There’s been famine and plague and Hitler.” “Two hundred years ago, Mikael, women died in childbirth, there was cholera and small pox. Since then those things have been virtually wiped out. We’ve seen the advent of the car, electricity, telephones, vaccinations...” “The atomic bomb.” “Air conditioning.” “AIDS.” “Indoor plumbing with flushing toilets.” “Sadam Hussein.” “Mother Theresa.” “Cell phones.” She paused to look at him. “You think cell phones are bad?”

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Sharon Cullen He shrugged. “I don’t like that anyone can contact me

anytime, anywhere.” “Okay.” She thought for a moment, her face scrunched up. Then she smiled. “Velcro!” Mikael threw up his hands in mock surrender. “I give up.” He laughed. “I can’t beat Velcro. You’re hopelessly optimistic.” Her smile faded a little. “Not hopelessly. There are some things I’m not optimistic about at all.” He reached out and caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Even if I knew you for an eternity I don’t think I’d be able to unlock all your secrets.” She turned her face and planted a kiss on his palm. “If you knew me for eternity you would be bored.” “I doubt that,” he said, a husky quality to his voice. “Tell me Allie, would you want to live forever?” “I’d want more time than I’ve been given.” “What if it was all or nothing?” “Then I’d take all.”


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Chapter 7 The next morning Allie woke with burning eyes and a familiar heaviness in her chest. Even the memory of Mikael’s kiss the night before didn’t make her feel any better. After watching the bonfires and listening to the Gypsy’s songs, Mikael drove her to her apartment and walked her to her front door. Those warm, firm lips on her own melted her every single time. She wanted so much to wrap her body around his and never let go. He did things to her that no one... Well, let’s just say her body sang when Mikael touched her. If he’d have asked, she would have given him everything right there as they leaned against her apartment door, holding nothing back. But he hadn’t asked. Instead he’d pulled away, a little out of breath, and with one final, long look left. She had been too exhausted to do anything but rip off her clothes and sink into her bed. She hadn’t even bothered to wash her face or brush her teeth. When she awoke the exhaustion still weighed on her along with a bone weary weakness that penetrated every cell in her body.

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Even though she ran a low grade fever she still showered and dressed. She had one thing she needed to do today. If she could accomplish that, she’d come home and collapse until she had to be at work the next day. When she walked into her kitchen, the back of her neck prickled. Even in her fevered state she felt the wrongness in her apartment. Over on the side table sat her phone, but it wasn’t in the same place. Granted, it was only a few inches off center, but still it wasn’t right. And the cushion to her couch had been moved. She never would have left the house with the couch cushion crooked. Hating to come home to a messy, disorganized house, she always made sure everything was in its place. Her gaze flew around the small apartment noting that her plants had been moved and not placed exactly back on their carpet indentation. The head of her spotted cow cookie jar looked off to the right instead of straight ahead. A shiver raced up her spine. Someone had been in her apartment. Someone had been here. Had they come while she slept? Or maybe they had come while she had been with Mikael at the Gypsy carnival. She reached out and turned the cows head so he looked in the right direction. Not able to stand it any longer she walked around the house and righted all the little wrongs someone had done. They were small things and if she didn’t live alone or wasn’t so particular about her stuff she wouldn’t have noticed. But she was picky and did live alone and she had noticed. She remembered the night she drove home from Mikael’s house and the car that tailed her. She had blown it off, assuming Mikael had followed to make sure she made it home safe. Twice now


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she’d had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At the laundry mat and when she walked to the medical center. She reached for her phone and picked it up, ready to call Steven Lane but her hand hovered over the buttons. What did she have to go on? The crooked lid to her cookie jar? Her plants and phone weren’t in the exact place they should be? Her couch cushion had been moved? Steven would laugh at her. Plus, she didn’t want to deal with Steven, not after the confrontation with Mikael the other week. She could always bypass the deputy and call the Sheriff. But the Gypsies were in town and that always put an extra load on the Sheriff’s already busy schedule. Besides, they’d think she was just some paranoid librarian who read too many mystery novels. And they would be right. Her hand still hovered above the buttons. Call Mikael? No way. Bottom line, whoever she called would think her paranoid. Heck, she thought she was paranoid. So, some things were not in their normal place. So what? She’d been in a hurry yesterday and honestly couldn’t remember checking to see if everything was where it should be before going out. In her haste she must have done those things herself. She pulled her hand away from the phone. That was it, she had done it herself. A momentary lapse of cleanliness, nothing more. Before she could convince herself otherwise, she grabbed her car keys and purse and headed for the Gypsy camp. By the time she arrived, her body burned with fever, her chest felt like a band squeezed it, and her lungs rattled with each shallow breath she took. Before she got out of her car she took out her bronchodilator and took a puff off it. The medicinal mist penetrated

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her lungs and made breathing a little easier. She popped the dilator back in her purse and headed for the fortuneteller. The Gypsy camp looked different today. The booths hadn’t opened and the town of Patience had yet to descend on them. A few Rom wandered around, looking sleepy and a little hung-over. Allie wound her way to the fortune teller’s tent, hopeful the woman was awake. She reached the tent and like yesterday hesitated at the entrance. Mikael would kill her if he found out. She stood for several moments, consciously breathing, picturing her lungs inflating and deflating, pulling in the clean air and releasing the bad. The more she did that, the more difficult it became. Allie knew what that meant. She had hoped to stay healthy so Mikael would never learn her secret but apparently that wasn’t going to happen. She pulled the tent flap back and walked in. Dimly lit and without the presence of Mikael, it appeared much bigger than yesterday. She took a few steps inside before the fortuneteller came in through the back flap and turned to Allie, surprise etched on her face. “I didn’t have a chance to pay you yesterday.” Allie took another step inside. “I never read your fortune,” the girl said, her eyes darting around the tent. “Mikael’s not with me today, so you needn’t be concerned.” The girl relaxed. “He’ll not be happy when he finds you’ve returned.” “He’s not my keeper, regardless what he thinks.” The Gypsy girl laughed and took a seat at her table, indicating that Allie do the same. With a sigh of relief Allie sat.


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“What’s your name?” “Anna,” the girl said as she once again took hold of Allie’s hand. She looked up at Allie in surprise. “You’re burning with fever, rima.” “I’ll be fine once I get home. My name’s Allie.” Concern shimmered in Anna’s dark eyes. “Maybe we should do this another time.” “No, I need to know what you read in my cards yesterday. Do you remember what they were?” Anna nodded. “I remember.” Her eyes darted to the entrance again. “Are you sure your man will not return?” Allie smiled. “I’m sure. He has no idea I’m here.” Anna’s eyes settled on Allie. “He loves you. He only wants to protect you because he knows how the Rom can be.” Allie shook her head. “He doesn’t love me.” Anna smiled, stroking Allie’s hand with her thumbs. “What did my cards say?” “The first indicated your past. The Hanged Man. He can represent trials and sacrifice. I can see you’ve had many trials in your young life already. And sacrifice. You’ve no family left?” “No.” She thought of her dead mother and sister. Her father...well, who knew where he was. Anna nodded, still looking into the depths of Allie’s eyes. “He can also represent wisdom. Losing your family has brought you some wisdom.” Allie nodded, mesmerized by the dark depths of Anna’s eyes. “And the second card? The death card?” Anna’s eyes grew sad. “Ah, the death card. Everyone fears the death card. Death is many different things to many people, rima. It

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doesn’t always mean death in the mortal sense. Maybe it’s the end of a phase of your life and the beginning of another?” Allie shook her head. “No, I fear the death card meant exactly what it was supposed to.” “The last card, Judgment, signifies a big change in your life.” Allie laughed without humor. “Death is a big change. The biggest.” “I don’t see it,” Anna said. “See what?” “Death.” She turned Allie’s hand over and traced her finger along the lines in Allie’s palm. “I see one life line branching off into two directions. One direction is very short, the other very long.” She closed Allie’s fingers over her palm and released her hand. “You have a big decision to make in the not so distant future, Allie. It will affect the rest of your life. I see good things for you if you have the courage to grab them.” Allie put her hand in her lap, her fingers still wrapped around her palm. “I know I’m going to die, Anna, you don’t have to shield me from it. I know it’s going to be soon, too. I had hoped you would tell me when.” She raised tear filled eyes to Anna who had tears of her own in her dark eyes. “I can not tell you that.” “Can not or will not?” Anna shrugged. “Either one gets you the same result.” She stood, signifying the end of the session. Allie stood with her. “How much do I owe you?” “Nothing. I like you, Allie, and I even somewhat like your man though he still scares me. He wants only to protect you and he


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will fail but he will also succeed.” Allie tried to decipher that bit of cryptic monologue and failed. Even without the fever she wouldn’t understand Anna. When she reached the entrance to the tent she turned. Anna stood at the table watching her. “What does Kralis mean?” “King,” she replied, seemingly unsurprised at the question. Allie nodded and looked around the tent, her gaze finally falling on Anna again. “And ves’tacha?” Anna’s smile warmed. “Ves’tacha means beloved.” Beloved. Mikael had called her beloved. Allie’s chest constricted, causing her to cough. She ducked out of the tent and drew in a mouthful of air, her lungs burning with the effort. It had started to drizzle and her fever blazed brighter and hotter than ever, giving everything a surreal feeling, making the bright colors of the tents even brighter. She took another puff off her bronchodilator and headed for her car. A Rom stepped in front of her with a smile in his twinkling black eyes. “Excuse me for waylaying you,” he said. “But I noticed you yesterday with Mikael Butler and had to introduce myself. I am Christoff, the ataman, or chief, of this tribe.” Allie took his proffered hand and shook. “It’s nice to meet you, Christoff. I’m Allie. How do you know Mikael?” Christoff smiled, a gold tooth flashing in a row of white. “All the Rom know Mikael.” “They do?” “Yes. There are stories told around campfires about your Mikael. Stories almost older than time.”

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Sharon Cullen “They certainly can’t be that old.” Christoff’s smile held secrets. Secrets Allie didn’t want to

know. This was part of Mikael’s past, a past he kept from her. She took a step towards her car. “It was nice meeting you, Christoff. I must be going.” “We will meet again, Allie.” Allie hurried to her car, wheezing with the exertion, and drove home. It took all her remaining strength to make it up the steps and into her apartment where she sank to the floor just inside the front door, too tired to go on. Her breath rattling in her chest, she reached for the phone and dialed Martha’s number. * * * Mikael stood just inside the doors of the Patience Public Library and searched for Allie’s familiar red hair. Martha checked out books at the front desk while the usual people sat on the couches with their reading material. Toddler Story Time had just ended and mothers perused the children’s book section while toddlers swarmed the area. But no sign of Allie. Mikael frowned and glanced at his watch, thinking he was early. Nope. Noon on the dot. The usual time for their lunch date. He walked up to the front desk and waited for Martha to scan the last book, put it on top of a pile and scoot the pile to the waiting gentleman. Only after the man walked out the door did she turn her attention to Mikael. “Allie’s not here today, Mikael. She told me to tell you she was sorry she had to miss your lunch.” “Not here?” Allie was always here. Martha adjusted the sleeve of her blouse, her usual sparkling


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nature somewhat dimmer today. Her clothes matched, a definite sign something was amiss, and her eyes were red rimmed. “Is she okay, Martha?” “Oh,” she said, waving one hand in the air, “she’ll be fine, just not feeling well, that’s all.” Mikael would have accepted that explanation except Martha refused to look at him when she said it. “Are you sure she’s okay?” “She’ll be fine.” She’ll be fine, not, she is fine. Mikael’s chest tightened and he got the feeling all was not fine, especially with Allie. He walked out into the intermittent downpour and looked toward Allie’s second floor apartment where no lights shone. He scanned the street and located her car parked a few blocks away. She’s just feeling a little under the weather. Yet he remained on the steps of the library while indecision ate away at him. Thunder rumbled overhead, the rain fell heavier, soaking him in the few short seconds he contemplated what to do. Something didn’t sit right with him. Something was wrong. And with that thought he headed in the direction of Allie’s apartment. Her door stood ajar and he stood to the side, his breath shallow, adrenaline pumping through him. Every instinct told him someone other than Allie was in that apartment and a strong urge nagged him to grab the nonexistent dagger hanging at his side. He hadn’t carried a dagger in centuries, but old habits died hard and ingrained instincts died even harder. He reached one hand out and pushed the door open, making sure it didn’t squeak on its hinges.

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Through the widening crack he scanned the apartment but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Taking a cautious step inside he stopped, letting his other senses take over. Someone moved in the bedroom. It could be Allie, but something told him it wasn’t. He waited at the door. The person would have to come out this way, finding himself trapped inside the apartment. Mikael wondered if Allie was in the bedroom too and if she was hurt. The thought of her hurt, possibly bleeding, sent rage surging through his body, making it difficult to remain in the doorway. Someone came out of Allie’s bedroom and it took a moment, a long moment, for the person to register. When it did Mikael forced his muscles to relax. A woman, wearing a flowered housedress and pink fuzzy slippers, glasses perched on her nose, caught sight of Mikael and gasped, her hand going to her chest. “Who are you?” she sputtered. Mikael took a step back not wanting to frighten the woman more than he already had. “I’m looking for Allie.” The woman didn’t move. “Allie’s not feeling well.” Mikael’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here? Who are you?” “I’m her landlady. I take care of Allie’s apartment when she’s gone like this. I water her plants, take in her mail. Make sure everything’s okay.” His eyes darted to the bedroom door, then back to Allie’s landlady. “And everything’s okay?” The lady’s fright gave way to indignation. She squared her shoulders and took a step forward. “Sir, I must know who you are.” “Mikael Butler. A friend of Allie’s. Martha said she was sick


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and I came to see if she needed anything.” She stared at him for some time. Mikael glared right back. “She’s not here.” He was stunned. “Not here? What do you mean not here? Martha said she didn’t feel well.” “She’s not feeling well.” These two women knew something he didn’t and had every intention of keeping it from him. Something was wrong with Allie. He felt it deep in his gut. Martha and the landlady made it sound like she felt a little under the weather, he assumed she had a cold or maybe a slight fever or even decided to play hooky for the day. But now he began to think worse thoughts. Determined to find out, he turned on his heel and stormed from the apartment. He didn’t remember running down the steps or walking through the rain. The next thing he knew he stood in front of the check out desk, dripping water on the pamphlets lined up in front of him. Martha walked out of Allie’s office, took one look at Mikael and said, “Oh, dear.” Mikael leaned over the desk. “Where the hell is she Martha? Is she avoiding me? Did she put you and her landlady up to this? Is she deliberately making me run around in circles?” All kinds of possibilities raced through his mind. Martha walked around the desk and grabbed Mikael by the arm. “Come with me,” she said, dragging him to a couch secluded in a stack of books. Martha sat and pulled Mikael down with her. She cleared her throat and looked at everything but him. “Where is she?” He leaned closer. Fear leaped into her eyes and he leaned back. He didn’t want to scare the woman, but damn it,

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he needed to know what happened to Allie. He hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “She doesn’t want you to know.” His head popped up, his hand fell to his side. “Know what? She doesn’t want me to know what?” Martha bit the corner of her bottom lip and looked down at her hands. “She’ll kill me if I tell you.” Mikael leaned his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his wet hair. Rain droplets hit the carpet and sank in, making wet splotches. He took a deep breath and counted to ten to control his emotions. What he really wanted to do was shake Martha until she told him everything she knew about Allie instead he lifted his head and pierced her with one of his coldest stares. “I would never hurt her, Martha. You know that, don’t you?” She looked surprised. “Of course I know that.” “Is she afraid to tell me something because she thinks I’ll be angry? Is that it?” Martha’s eyes softened. “No. She doesn’t want you to know because she thinks she’s protecting you.” Martha’s fingers fluttered on the air, a pained look crossed her face. “Oh, dear. I told her to tell you.” Mikael’s thoughts flew in a whole new direction. “Is she in trouble? Is someone hurting her? Why does she think she needs to protect me? She must know I’d do anything to help her.” “Yes, I think she suspects that. Do you love her, Mikael?” Astonished at the question, Mikael sat back. “Love her?” He stared down at his hands. Did he love Allie? Had he gone and done the one thing he vowed never to do?


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“I like her, Martha. A lot.” Martha nodded. “Allie’s sick, Mikael. Very sick.” The band in his chest tightened to the point where he could hardly breathe. Sick? He had pictured her hurt, but he hadn’t pictured her sick. Not the kind of sick Martha spoke of. He concentrated on breathing—-in with the good, out with the bad. Sick. Very sick. “What do you mean by very sick?” “She’s in the hospital.” He jumped up. “Christ almighty! What the hell’s wrong with her?” When the panic and terror ripped through his body, he knew he had failed to keep his distance. He had allowed Allie into his impenetrable defenses without a blink of an eye. Suddenly, those walls that had cracked and groaned, gave way. Martha grabbed his arm and with surprising strength pulled him back down on the couch. “You can’t go rushing to the hospital. She wouldn’t like it and she would kill me on top of it. Sit down and let me explain.” He sat and bent over, nearly putting his head between his knees to keep the bile from climbing any farther. “Allie will be fine in a few days. She just needs some antibiotics and some rest.” His head came up and he looked at Martha. “But you said she was very sick.” “She is. She has cystic fibrosis. What happened yesterday was just an episode. One in a long line.” Martha stood and disappeared into the stack of books. Emerging a short time later she handed him three books. “These are books on cystic fibrosis. Take them home, read them and pray to God Allie doesn’t kill me for telling you.”

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Chapter 8 Mikael was well into his second book and fifth beer by the time Nickolai walked into the den later that night. His cousin took one look at him and plopped down on the other couch. He slammed the book closed; his head fell back against the soft leather and he closed his eyes. He’d had way too much beer. He reached for his bottle and took another swallow. Nickolai remained silent. That was the best thing about Nickolai. He knew when to talk and when to shut up. Mikael rolled his head back and forth and willed this day away. He wished he hadn’t got out of bed, never went to the library in search of his librarian. Hell, he wished he’d never heard of a town called Patience, Maine. Then he pictured Allie standing next to him in the museum, her head tilted up, the riot of cinnamon curls around her pixie face and those light green eyes penetrating his soul. He thought of her holding


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Serena’s dagger in her small hand, looking at it with awe. His mind shifted to the Gypsy carnival and the delight she projected to everyone who came across her path. He’d had an almost uncontrollable urge to lick the candy apple off those perfect lips. His inner being, that part he kept locked away from the world, responded to her in a way it never responded before, not with his wives, not with Serena, only with Allie. No, he didn’t regret getting up this morning or searching for her or discovering the truth. The truth. There can’t be anything between us because of your past and my future. Fair enough, you keep your secrets, Mikael, and I’ll keep mine. Tell me, Allie, would you want to live forever? I’d want more time than I’ve been given. What if it was all or nothing? Then I’d take all. What a pair they made. A man cursed to live forever and a woman fated to die young. He stared into the fire, pushing away the image of Allie lying in some hospital bed, hooked up to machines and IV’s, but he couldn’t get the picture out of his head. He had promised Martha he wouldn’t tell Allie he knew. How the hell was he supposed to do that? “I should have left for England a long time ago, simensa. I messed up big time.” “Because you fell in love with a woman?” his cousin asked. Mikael rolled his head until he looked at Nickolai through a haze of alcohol. Firelight played across his cousin’s face, putting him

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half in shadow, half in orange light. “It never bothered you to watch your friends and lovers die, did it?” Nickolai shrugged. “It bothered me. But it’s also the way of the world. I had to accept that.” Mikael turned back to the fire. “I can’t watch her die. It would kill me. Unfortunately, I’d just be a walking corpse.” “Who says she’s going to die?” Mikael waved to the books strewn over the side table. “She has a disease. According to these books her life expectancy is thirty to thirty-five years. She’s twenty-eight now.” “So enjoy the time you have with her.” “And think of her for an eternity? Grieve for her for an eternity? I don’t think so.” He pushed himself up off the couch, his legs a little unsteady. “I should have left a long time ago. The Tremonts know I’m here. It’s time to leave.” “That’s right,” Nickolai drawled. “Run away, Mikael. You’ve made it an art form over the past two hundred years.” Mikael swung on his cousin, his fists clenched at his sides, his breath coming in sharp, shallow puffs. “You son of a bitch,” he growled. Nickolai stood just as Mikael took a swing at him, but the beer slowed him down and Nickolai’s reflexes had always been very good. The punch missed its mark. Nickolai straightened, shot Mikael a look of disgust and walked out of the den. Mikael’s knees gave out and he crumpled to the couch. * * * “You told him, didn’t you?” Allie had been home from the hospital a week. Seven days in


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which she hadn’t heard one word from Mikael. She glared at Martha who shifted in her seat with a guilty look. “I had to, Allie, honey. You should have seen him. He was thinking all kinds of dire things. The truth was better than his imagination.” “I bet his imagination never conjured up a dying woman.” Her voice was tinged with bitterness. If there was ever a time she hated her illness, this was it. “You aren’t dead yet.” Allie threw her pencil down on the desk. “Damn it, Martha, you promised. You promised not to tell him.” Martha looked at Allie with no regrets. She could at least look like she regretted what she’d done. “Allie, he thought you were hurt. He thought you were avoiding him. I had to tell him something.” Allie stood up so fast her desk chair rolled back and hit the wall behind her. She pointed an accusing finger at the only friend she had at the moment. “No, it was not up to you. You had no business telling him about me.” Martha’s eyes held pity and sorrow, the last thing Allie needed or wanted from anyone. “I take it you haven’t heard from him?” Allie reached back and groped for her chair, found it and pulled it under her butt. “No.” “Give it time, sweetie. He needs to think about this.” Allie barked out a laugh. “He needs to think he has to get the hell out of Dodge? He needs to think he doesn’t want to get attached to

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a woman who won’t be around much longer, who can’t give him babies and a family? I don’t think so, Martha. He’s outta here, probably took the first flight to England.” She dropped her head into her hands and fought the tears that had been threatening all week. This was why she hadn’t wanted to tell Mikael the truth, why she coveted their time together. She knew as soon as he discovered her secret he’d disappear. From the first, she’d known Mikael wasn’t a man to stick around for anything, much less a fatal illness. She raised her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Okay, she’d had her fun. She enjoyed herself for as long as she could. She had her memories. It was high time she got back to her life, a life she had been content with before Mikael strolled in and turned it upside down. * * * Halloween came and went. October gave way to November and more fall-like temperatures. Allie hadn’t heard from Mikael since the day he took her to the Gypsy carnival. Two weeks and not a word. She tried to push his image away, tried not to think about him, but it was so hard, darn near impossible. She almost convinced herself he’d been nothing more than a fling. But putting him in the category of a fling just didn’t cut it. He was so much more than that. If she had a whole lifetime ahead of her she would have said he was the one to spend it with. She bent over and tied her hiking boots in a double knot. Straightening, she settled her backpack on her shoulders and set out on her hike. She loved the hills and forests that enclosed Patience and tried to get out and hike as much as possible. Her doctor encouraged her exercise. But she knew that soon she would have to stop because at


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some point her body would start breaking down. Until then she would enjoy it while she could and think about tomorrow, tomorrow. She let her head fall back and took a deep, long breath. For once her lungs were clear and she could breathe almost as well as a normal person. Normal. How many years had she longed to be ‘normal’? As a young girl she’d watched her friends run and play while she stood on the sidelines. She’d endured the questions about her daily medication and explained over and over why she was frequently in the hospital. Then she would go home and cry herself to sleep at night. Her mother always said there was no such thing as ‘normal’ but Allie knew differently. There was such a thing and she wasn’t it. Her mother used to get so angry with her. She’d put her workworn hands on her ample hips and glare at Allie. “Define normal,” she would say. Normal was air in her lungs, no medication to take every day, no thumping on her back to clear her lungs. Normal was joining her friends and playing at things her mother never let her play at. She used to pray to God to give her one day free of illness. One day to experience what every one else took for granted. She never got her dream. Allie sighed and let the weak sunlight warm her face. It had taken her awhile, but eventually she’d caught on that she could do most anything her friends could. She just tended to tire faster, and of course she had to sneak behind her mother’s back to do it. But, oh, it had been worth it. She smiled up at the clouds, determined to enjoy her day. With a stubbornness that came from fighting her lifelong illness, she

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pushed her thoughts away and concentrated on her surroundings. The serenity of the tall trees, the quiet of the dense forest, appealed to her. The reds, oranges and yellows of the leaves still clinging to the trees, the crunch of the leaves beneath her boots, and the sweet smell of decaying vegetation calmed her for awhile. Two words began to swirl round and round in her head, words she refused to speak out loud and most times refused to think. Lung transplant. Dr. Douglas mentioned it in passing before she was discharged from the hospital. “Not yet, but at some point we need to discuss putting your name on the lung transplant list,” he said. “Soon?” She’d asked, praying she had a little more time, knowing that time was running out. This was when she missed her mother the most, when the big medical decisions needed to be made. She had no one to consult with. Dr. Douglas tried to take over in that role, but he couldn’t help but think medically instead of personally. He hesitated. “Sooner than before. This ‘episode’ as you like to call them convinces me of that.” “How much time do I have?” “I can’t say.” “You know my thoughts about transplants.” A lung transplant wouldn’t cure her cystic fibrosis, merely prolong it. He patted her hand before leaving. “Think about it,” he’d said. “That’s all I’m asking.” Amy, her sister, died waiting for a lung transplant. It had been devastating to watch the once vibrant fifteen-year-old struggle for breath, unable to sit up for more than two minutes at a time. Allie had


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stayed with Amy, watching the cystic fibrosis destroy first her sister’s digestive tract, then her respiratory tract while they waited for someone healthy to die so Amy could live. The call for a new lung never came. With her sister gone Allie was next, fated to die the same way. Knowing how she was going to die was hell. Knowing it wouldn’t be pretty or easy, was even worse. That’s why Mikael wouldn’t be around when it happened. She glanced at her watch, surprised at how much time had passed. She didn’t want to leave, winter was closing in, the leaves would soon be gone and the snow would start falling. She took one last look around, then turned and headed back. A tired born of physical labor dogged her steps. She stared at the front end of her car for some time, not quite believing what she saw. The front driver’s side tire was flatter than the proverbial pancake. She put her hands on her hips and looked around. When she arrived this morning there had been other cars here but the parking lot sat empty now. She could wait around for someone to show up or-— she looked at her watch-—she could walk back to town. She sighed in resignation. Town was about eight miles away and it would be well past dark when she got there, but if she lucked out someone she knew would spot her and give her a lift back. “Let’s hope I get lucky.” * * * The sun had set a good half-hour before, but it was still light enough to see the road she trudged along. Not one car had passed in the last hour. She grumbled and kicked at a stone lying in her path. The stone skipped off the side of the road and landed in the grass. With

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the sun gone, a chill began to set in. She stopped and tilted her head, listening to the purr of a car engine grow louder. Allie turned. No. Not a car, a motorcycle. And the driver was dressed in all black—black helmet, black leather jacket, black leather pants, black boots. “Shoot.” Of all the people to find her why did it have to be Mikael? She should have been a little more specific in her prayers and asked for someone other than Mikael Butler to find her. He pulled the motorcycle off the road, cut the engine and pulled his helmet off. A light beard shaded his chin and cheeks. With his hair mussed from the helmet, he looked dangerous and sexy and a jolt of awareness raced through Allie. Down, girl. Remember this is the man who took a powder the minute he discovered you were sick. He looked at her with those blue eyes, his brow furrowed in confusion, and her heart did a traitorous little flip-flop. “Allie? What in the hell are you doing out here? Where’s your car?” She forced a cheerful smile, but only managed to bare her teeth. The only thing that stopped her from shoving that helmet back on his head and sending him on his way was the remaining miles to town and the cold and dark. “It’s back at the park. I have a flat.” “So you’re walking back to town?” His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Should you be doing that?” Here it comes. Allie, dear, you shouldn’t do that in your condition. Allie, honey, let someone else do that for you. Allie can’t play right now, she shouldn’t exert herself. Allie had fought so hard for her independence. It had been


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years, of course, since she’d heard those things but she knew they were coming when she looked at Mikael. “I’m fine,” she snapped. “I can do all kinds of things, Mikael.” “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant you just got out of the hospital. Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?” Her eyes narrowed. “I got out of the hospital two weeks ago. I’m fine.” Mikael studied her, wariness and concern fighting for prominence in his expression. Finally, he held out his helmet. “Put this on and climb on back.” She looked at the helmet but made no move to grab it. “Why?” “So I can take you to your car and change the tire. You do have a spare, don’t you?” She snatched the helmet from him and shoved it on her head. “Yes.” She climbed up behind him and looked around for something to hold on to. “Put your arms around my waist,” he said, looking back at her in amusement. “What?” She could only stare at him in horror. “Unless you want to try not holding on, only those who’ve ridden for years can ride without holding on.” She put her arms around his waist and locked her hands over his stomach-—his very firm, very muscular, very flat stomach. She tried to keep as much distance as possible between them, refusing to lean into his solid back. The engine started with a roar and Mikael executed a perfect U-turn.

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Sharon Cullen “Lean with me around the curves. If you lean against me we

could topple over,” he yelled over his shoulder as the wind whipped by them. Allie buried her head in his leather jacket, closing her eyes. He probably couldn’t breathe what with the iron grip she had around his stomach, but she didn’t dare loosen it. She inhaled the clean smell of him mixed with the scent of his distinctive cologne and the leather he wore. Every once in a while his hair would whip out and touch her forehead. Through her hands locked around his waist she felt him breathing in and out. Through her cheek pressed into his back she felt a little vibration. Was he humming? She smiled against the leather jacket. He was humming. She began to relax against him, trusting in him to get her safely to her car. After a few minutes she lifted her head and look at the trees whipping past. It seemed like they were going eighty miles an hour around the twisty curves. When she took a peek at the speedometer she was surprised to see they were only going thirty-five. Five miles under the speed limit. She released her death grip and began to enjoy the ride, a little disappointed when they arrived at her car a few minutes later. Mikael cut the engine and hopped off, turning to help her. “You have the keys?” She handed him the keys to her car. He rummaged around in the trunk. Allie plopped down on a parking stone and watched the play of muscles across his back as he loosened the lug nuts. He had taken the leather jacket off revealing a white, long sleeve t-shirt. “I’m sorry about the last two weeks,” he said as the last lug nut gave way. He unscrewed it with his fingers and dropped it on the ground.


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Allie shrugged. “It happens.” His head popped up and he pierced her with those crystal eyes. “What do you mean, it happens?” She shrugged again. Mikael placed the jack under the car and began pumping and the car started to rise. “Just what I said. It happens. When people, especially guys, hear I’m sick they run for the hills.” He grunted. When the car was where he wanted it, he straightened and looked at her, shoving a lock of ebony hair off his forehead with the back of his hand. “That’s not me,” he said, his eyes hard. “I didn’t run for the hills.” “No?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. His eyes narrowed for a moment before he turned back to the car to pull the flat tire off. “You should take this to the garage in Patience. They might be able to patch the hole, then you won’t have to buy a new tire.” “Thank you, I’ll do that.” “I didn’t run for the hills, Allie.” He grabbed the spare and wrestled it on the car, making it seem so easy, so effortless. If she had even attempted to change the tire she would still be fighting the first lug nut. “I just needed time to think about everything. I should have called. I’m sorry I didn’t.” “Tell me, Mikael, if you hadn’t seen me on the side of the road would you have called? I want honesty here.” He searched the ground, spotted the lug nuts, and reached for one. “Yes.”

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Sharon Cullen “I don’t believe you.” She crossed her arms over her chest,

partly because she was cold but mainly to show him her anger. She shivered. Mikael reached over and snagged his leather jacket from the handlebar of the bike and plopped it around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled of his cologne. She pulled it around her and huddled inside it, more for the sense of being close to him than for the warmth it provided. He picked up another lug nut and sat back on his heels, tossing the nut from one hand to another. “I’m sorry you don’t believe me. I’ve never lied to you before and I’m not going to start now.” “Why not now?” “Because this is too important.” He lowered the jack and tightened the lug nuts, his forearms straining with the effort. What was too important? Them? The tire? Her being sick? She wanted to know, but was too afraid to ask. Mikael picked up the flat and put it in the trunk of her car. He slammed the trunk lid and walked around to where she sat, lowering himself down next to her. “Tell me about your disease,” he said. Allie took a deep breath. “There’s not much to tell, really. My body can’t clear out my lungs like yours can. I get infections easily. When that happens I take antibiotics and sometimes I have to stay in the hospital.” He shook his head. “I know about the medical side of it. Martha gave me books to read. I want to hear about you, your life.” She took another deep breath. Oh, boy. No one had ever asked her how CF affected her life. Everyone always wanted to know what it was, how it happened, can it be cured. But no one asked her


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about her. She played with one of the buckles on his jacket. “My parents discovered I had it when I was a baby. The doctors told them I would maybe live to my eighteenth birthday. My sister, born three years later, had the same disease. Dad couldn’t handle it and took off. Mom worked two jobs to pay for the insurance we had to have.” “How old was your sister when she died?” “Fifteen. I have a milder case than her. I’ve lived ten years past the point the doctors said I would. I’m living on borrowed time here.” “Is that why you don’t want to get involved with anyone...with a man...with me?” She turned to look at him, surprised to see they were holding hands. She didn’t remember him reaching out for her. “Yes. I watched my sister die. I know what it’s like at the end. I can’t let someone else go through that.” “Don’t you think that’s his choice to make?” His choice or Mikael’s choice? Either way it didn’t matter. “No.” She turned from him and looked deep into the trees. “I won’t get married because I would never put my husband through that. I won’t have children for the same reason.” “The books I’ve read said the life expectancy of someone with CF is now into their thirties.” She turned back to him. “And that gives me what? Another two years? Five?” * * * What was he supposed to say to that? How could he deal with this when he had to deal with the other end of the spectrum? He

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couldn’t die. Allie would die. Maybe soon. Maybe not. He stood and pulled her up with him. “Come on, let’s get you back home. I’ll follow you on the motorcycle.” By the time they made it back to her apartment, Allie’s shoulders drooped and exhaustion dulled her eyes. Without being invited he walked in and made his way to the kitchen. “You’re cooking?” He turned from the stove. Allie stood in the doorway, her cheeks pink from her hike in the woods, her curls, held back in a ponytail, poking out in a hundred different directions. “Purely slap dash stuff. Grilled cheese and tomato soup.” “Sounds heavenly.” “You have time for a soak in the tub before dinner’s ready.” She straightened away from the doorjamb. “That sounds decadent.” Mikael tried not to listen to the splash of the water in the tub, tried not to think of Allie’s sleek, wet body under a mountain of bubbles. He failed. By the time he poured the soup in the bowls and slid the sandwiches on the plates, Allie arrived all pink and scrubbed and dressed in a pair of oversized gray sweats. Mikael had a heck of a time getting his body to cool down. The sweats did nothing to calm his raging libido, either. The thought of peeling the sweats off that sweet body of hers made it even worse. They sat at the small kitchen table and ate in silence. Allie’s hike through the woods then down the road had taken a lot out of her, regardless of what she said. By the time she slurped the last of her soup from the spoon her head was almost in the bowl. Mikael put down his own spoon and stood.


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“Time to put you to bed.” He held his hand out to her. Her head shot up. “I’m fine, really.” He wiggled his fingers and bit back a sigh. “Allie, you’re tired. It’s all right to admit it.” She looked a bit sheepish and nodded. “You’re right, I’m tired.” He led her into her bedroom, pulled down the blankets and helped her in. She lay back against the pillows and sighed, closing her eyes as Mikael pulled the covers up to her chin. He turned to leave. “Stay with me,” she murmured, more than half asleep. He turned back to her. Piled under a mound of sheets and quilts, she wore oversized gray sweats and still she was so damn attractive. He walked back to the bed and pulled a chair over to the side and sat down. “All right.” She shook her head. “No. Stay with me here.” She patted the empty part of the bed behind her, her weary green eyes watching him.

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Chapter 9 Mikael looked from the bed back to Allie and sexual desire hit him like a runaway train. He wanted her, but that was the wrong part of his body doing his thinking. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” “Just lay with me, Mikael. Please.” He looked at the other side of the bed, at her, then at the other side of the bed again. The please got to him. Her exhaustion and the shadows under her eyes got to him. He stood and walked around the bed and sat down on it, half turned and looked at her back. “Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” He lifted the covers, got in and rolled over so her back pressed against his front. He gathered her close, wrapping his arm around her middle and pulling her against his chest. She sighed and relaxed against him. His raging libido demanded some form of satisfaction and he fought like hell to ignore it. Keeping his distance wasn’t working with Allie, she demanded more than that and he was powerless to deny


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her. A war waged inside him. His mind told him to let her go, to crawl out of this bed before more harm could be done. His heart told him to stay, that Allie could heal him. She smelled of soap and shampoo and the outdoors and those smells followed him into sleep. He awoke a few hours later in a dark room with a warm body pressed against his aroused one. It took a few moments to remember it was Allie pressed up against him, Allie all warm and pliant, Allie causing his body to betray him. Her hair tickled his nose, her arm heavy across his chest. Her breath blew on his neck and he placed a kiss on the top of her head and held her tighter, wanting more, wanting everything. He kissed her eyelids, knowing this was not the way to go. He kissed her cheeks and brow, telling himself to stop. He lightly kissed her lips, vowing he would stop. She sighed and snuggled closer as he kissed her lips once more, flicking his tongue out and tasting, taking. Her eyes fluttered open. Still more than half asleep she reached for his head, bringing it down to hers and kissing him. He groaned and tried to roll away but she had him pinned. Never mind he was twice her size and possessed three times her strength, he couldn’t move if he wanted to. And he definitely didn’t want to. The kiss turned deeper, fuller, heavier. She took and he gave and then he took and she gave. His hand inched its way under her sweatshirt until he kneaded and fondled her naked breast. Allie moaned and twisted underneath him. He pulled back to draw the sweatshirt off her body, needing to see all he had wanted—-dreamed of—-for so many weeks now.

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Sharon Cullen “Are you sure?” he asked between kisses, praying to God she

wouldn’t say no, but knowing he’d stop if she did. He ached for release, too close to exploding without even entering her. “Mmmmmm.” He took that as a yes. Clothes were stripped and tossed until they naked lay under the mound of sheets and quilts. He touched her, exploring with his mouth and hands, touching and caressing and encouraging Allie to do the same. It didn’t take much, her tiny hands ventured all on their own, running over the hard planes and harder muscles of his body, sending shock waves and shivers through him. It took every ounce of his incredible self-control to keep from coming when her hands touched him. “Christ, what’d I do to deserve you?” He took her hands and disengaged them from his stiff erection and she looked at him with wide, unfocused eyes. “What’d I do? Did I hurt you?” He clenched his teeth. He throbbed and barely managed to control the explosion. “God, no. I’m just finding it hard to control myself around you.” A wicked, sensuous smile played across her mouth. “Oh.” He growled. “Witch.” He dipped his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth. She gasped. Releasing the nipple, he trailed kisses down her torso, stopping at her belly button, then venturing farther south. Allie writhed on the bed, pulling on his head, then pushing it away, bending her knees, then straightening them, gasping then moaning, telling him to stop, telling him to never stop.


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Mikael smiled and dipped his tongue between her legs, tasting her. Her whole body went still, for once she was silent as he nibbled and sucked. Her breathing deepened. She moaned again and grabbed fistfuls of his hair. He slipped a finger inside. She contracted around it. Her whole body quivered and she came, calling his name over and over again, her muscles milking his finger. He surged up, spread her legs apart with his knee, and pushed inside. He hit a barrier and froze. “Allie.” His teeth clenched in a combination of pain and ecstasy. “Christ almighty.” He began to pull out. “I can’t do this. You’re a virgin.” “No!” Clutching his butt she thrust her hips upward, her eyes flying open. Powerless to stop it, he burst through and sank deep inside, groaning even as he said, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over. Unable to stop the dance now, he drew back to thrust again. “No,” she whispered. Her head whipped back and forth on the pillow and he could no more pull out now than die. “No, baby, I won’t leave you.” The muscles in his neck strained with exertion, his teeth clamped together, sweat beaded on his brow. The pressure built in the base of his spine. Allie threw her head back, a keening cry ripped from her throat. Her vaginal muscles clamped down on him and the pressure built until it bordered on pain. He could sense this orgasm would be cataclysmic and a distant part of him didn’t want to scare her. Panting, he leaned closer to her. She whimpered. “I’m coming, baby. Now!” Her insides quivered and, with a

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roar, he exploded. * * * “You should have told me,” he whispered, rolling off her and gathering her in his arms. “Would it have made a difference?” She snuggled into his embrace. An emotion he didn’t want to name or delve too deeply into shot through him and he tightened his hold. After what just happened would he ever be able to let her go? “Hell yes, it would have made a difference.” “That’s why I didn’t tell you.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Thank you for making me the first.” She breathed deep, little snores escaping from between her parted lips and he cursed himself for making love to her when she was so exhausted and still recuperating from her hospital stay, but he couldn’t make himself regret it. He buried his nose in her hair, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, the smell of their lovemaking mixed with the scent of her shampoo and soap. He would not think about spending the next five years like this. As he eased away from her Allie sighed and rolled over to the other side, tucking her hand beneath her chin. Bereft without her warmth next to him, Mikael gathered up his clothes and dressed in the bathroom. After cleaning up their dinner dishes, he hung the hand towel back on the door handle of the oven his gaze going to the bottles of medicine lined up on the windowsill. He counted them. Ten in all. Most were vitamins, others prescriptions. What was Allie’s life really like? What would it be like to have to take all this different medication


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every day? He smiled at the spotted cow cookie jar and reached out to straighten the head so the cow looked straight instead of off to the right. He lifted the head and peered inside, hoping for cookies. Instead he found old receipts, keys, faded pictures, a few rubber bands, paperclips and pens. Most people had junk drawers; Allie had a junk cookie jar. Still restless, he walked into the living room. Her home was so comfortable, so Allie, so unlike his. She had decorated in jewel tones with throw pillows and accent rugs picking up the deep reds, blues and greens of her couch and an overstuffed, very comfortable looking chair. Pictures of her mother and sister were scattered about. Books lay on the coffee table, the newspaper sat on the floor as if she’d been sitting on the couch and threw each section down when she finished it. He gathered the paper together and placed it on the coffee table next to a book about Gypsies in America. He flipped through it, then put it back. He didn’t need to read a book about Gypsies in America. Hell, he could write a book about Gypsies in America. He walked across the living room and looked out the window that faced the street. It was late, well past midnight, and Patience was one of those towns that rolled up the sidewalks after ten. The street was dark, the houses and windows closed up. Movement on the street corner caught his attention and he moved a few steps from the window so as not to be observed, and waited. Mikael was a patient man, a necessary trait in the jobs he’d had to perform years ago. It had been a long time, almost a century, but the ability to fade into the shadows, to wait a person out, came easily. He wasn’t disappointed. The shadow stepped into the moonlight, long enough for Mikael to get a good look.

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of the night in a sleepy little town? Probably waiting on a girlfriend or lover to sneak out of the house. He resumed his restless prowling. Allie’s mail lay on the floor where the mailman slid it through the slot in the door and he bent down and picked it up, automatically sorting it to size, something he did with his own mail for some odd reason. His gaze landed on her name and he froze. His hands began to tremble. He walked to the couch and sank down, the envelopes still clutched in his hand. He stared so hard his eyes began to water. Quickly he flipped through the rest of the mail, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Carefully he placed the mail next to the newspaper and the book about Gypsies and folded his hands between his knees. Why the hell had he never asked Allie her last name? Allison Tremont. That man outside her apartment wasn’t waiting for a lover or a girlfriend, but watching the apartment. Watching him. Did that make her one of them? With her red hair and pale complexion she certainly didn’t look like a Gypsy, but did that matter to Christoff Tremont, the ataman of the Tremont tribe? If Christoff thought Allie possessed even a drop of Tremont blood and if he thought Mikael was seeing Allie - dear God, sleeping with Allie - he would do anything to stop their relationship. Mikael’s head came up and he strode to the window, making sure to keep to the shadows. A flare of a match, then the steady glow of the tip of a cigarette lit the night.


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Obviously he had brought danger to Allie, but what kind of danger? How much danger? The Tremont’s couldn’t harm him, but they could Allie. He paced the living room, running his hands through his hair and thinking of Allie in the next room, peacefully sleeping, blissfully unaware a man watched her apartment because Mikael was inside. He had to leave, get away from here, away from Allie and take the danger with him. Hopefully, if he left, the Tremonts would follow and that meant Allie would be safe. A trembling started deep within him. He didn’t want to leave. As much as he’d fought it, as much as he didn’t want it, he’d begun to fall in love with Allie. To stay would put her in danger. To leave would tear him apart. Heavy with resignation he walked into Allie’s room and looked down on her. Her curls spread over the pillow, her eyes closed. A half smile played on her face. She looked so peaceful, so calm. She would hate him in the morning. She would think he left because of her illness, never knowing he had to protect her from his past. He bent down and placed a kiss on her forehead. Running a finger down her cheek, the pain of separation ripped through him. He would have stayed. He would have stayed through the bitter end and suffered the consequences of an eternity of grief. But he couldn’t do that now, not with Christoff’s goons standing outside her apartment, watching him. Watching her. Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared at him with foggy, sleepy eyes. “Mikael?” He stroked one cinnamon colored eyebrow. “Shhh, ves’tacha, go to sleep.”

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Sharon Cullen Her hand reached out from under the mound of blankets.

“Come back to bed,” she said, rolling towards him. He shook his head, regret flooding him. He gave up so much by leaving. “I can’t. I need to leave.” She frowned. “Stay. Please.” A deep sigh escaped him. “Allie...” “Please, Mikael,” she whispered. He would hate himself in the morning. Hell, he already hated himself for what he had to do. It wasn’t right to take her virginity then leave without a word, but he could do nothing else. She raised his hand to her cheek. “Please.” His resolve weakened and he lowered himself to the bed and leaned over to take his mouth with hers, contentment seeping through his body. He almost convinced himself he had spent the last two hundred years waiting for Allison Tremont, that everything that had happened to him was just a prelude to her. But then he remembered the man on the sidewalk and the danger he posed to Allie and he pulled away, breaking their contact. Allie locked her hands behind his neck and pulled him on top of her. His weakening resolve shattered when her very naked body came into contact with his. He groaned and yanked the covers aside to feel her heat against him. He tore off his clothes and settled down next to her, pulling her close. She stretched like a cat. Sparks of fire raced through him. He tried to go slow, be gentle, but Allie wanted nothing to do with slow and gentle. She wanted desperation and urgency and, Lord above, he was more than willing to give it to her. Touching her was like touching the Holy Grail. She


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mesmerized him to the point where he would have gratefully, happily, paid homage to her. It wasn’t just her body or her response to him sexually, it was the whole package, the beauty of her inside and out, her fierce determination to live her life to the fullest even though she battled a fatal illness, her laughter and her smiles, her love of antique weapons and her deep thoughts that always made him pause and think about things in a different way. He would do anything to keep his librarian, his Allie, safe. Even leaving without a word. To say their climax was earth shattering was too trite. It went beyond anything he had ever felt or had ever hoped to feel in his very long life. It completed him. It made him come alive for the first time in centuries. From the warm glow of the moon shining through the bedroom window, he memorized the color of her hair, the way it fell across his pillow and onto his shoulder. He studied the pale, short fingernails of her hand, and at the red of her eyelashes tipped in gold. He stored the memories away, creating inside himself a place only Allie would inhabit. In those short moments he lived a lifetime with her. When dawn crested the horizon he closed the door to his soul, locking his memories away and extinguishing the light that had become his life. Only then did he ease out of bed and silently dress. Just like he had hours ago, he stood at the edge of the bed, and ran his finger down her cheek. “Camada tu.” I love you.

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Chapter 10 Allie was okay with Mikael leaving. Really, she was. Honestly. Ha! NOT! She was furious. No, better yet, she was enraged. She had given him everything-—her body, her soul, everything. Mikael took it all and walked away without a backward glance, leaving her behind, leaving her to mourn him. But as much as she hated him, loathed him, despised him—okay, maybe despised was a little harsh—-she could not make herself regret making love to him. It had been everything she had hoped and dreamed and if she had nothing left of her; she at least had that memory. At the very he least he could have said good-bye. He didn’t have to sneak away in the middle of the night with no word, no note, nothing. That’s what made her enraged and bitter. How could she have been so wrong about him?


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He had been gone a week and still the raw pain ate through her. People she worked with avoided her. She couldn’t do Toddler Story Time without either breaking down in tears or yelling at the poor toddlers. “I should have never told him. You were right, Allie.” Martha sat in Allie’s office, eight long days after Mikael disappeared. She looked so forlorn, so sad in her neon orange polyester pants and rose-colored rayon shirt that Allie couldn’t stay mad at her for long. “It’s all right, Martha. He had to know sooner or later.” “But he broke your heart, Allie. I’ll never forgive myself for that. He looked so scared when he first found out you were in the hospital. I really thought he cared about you. I really did. I mean, I didn’t think someone could act like they cared about someone so well. He looked like a lost puppy without you, when no one would tell him where you were--” “Martha, I get it, he duped you into thinking he liked me.” “I asked him, you know.” Allie didn’t really want to know what Martha asked him yet wouldn’t get any peace if she didn’t ask. “Asked him what, Martha?” “I asked him if he loved you.” Allie closed her eyes in humiliation. “And what did he say?” “He said he cared about you. No.” Her gray brows furrowed in concentration. “No, he said he liked you. A lot.” She smiled at Allie. “He said he liked you a lot.” Allie grimaced. “Obviously not enough to leave a note telling me he was leaving for good.” Martha patted Allie’s hand. “Maybe he was called away

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unexpectedly. Maybe he’ll call you yet.” Allie didn’t think so. Neither did she tell Martha there was no way she would talk to the man even if he did call. Martha left Allie alone with her thoughts, something she much preferred considering she really wasn’t fit for human companionship. Her mind drifted away from Mikael and to other things. Things she preferred not to think about more than she preferred not to think about Mikael. That paranoia thing was back. She had tried to shake it off, to explain it away, but she couldn’t. Some sixth sense told her someone was out there, watching her. Was it Mikael? Had he never really left? Her phone rang, pulling her away from those thoughts. Happy to be rid of them she picked it up. “Patience Public Library, this is Allie.” “Hey Allie, Stan from the garage.” “Hey Stan.” “Finally got a chance to look at that tire you brought in. Had a few seconds and thought I’d patch the hole for you.” Allie had followed Mikael’s advice and taken the flat tire to Stan’s garage. “Thanks Stan. Is it ready?” “Well, that’s the thing, Allie. I can’t patch it ‘cause it’s not a hole. It looks more like someone slashed your tire.” Her chest tightened and she glanced out her window. “Slashed it? Are you sure?” “Well, ‘bout as sure as I can get. You’ll have to buy a new one.” Allie gave Stan the go ahead to put a new tire on her car and hung up. Slashed her tire? That just wasn’t possible. Things like that didn’t happen in Patience, a town with an almost zero crime rate. She


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sat back in her chair. Surely Stan was mistaken. Slashed tires just didn’t happen. Especially to her. She didn’t have any enemies. Except maybe Steven Lane. But Allie couldn’t picture Steven doing something like that. He was a Deputy for God’s sake, his job was everything to him, he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his career. But what about Mikael? Would Mikael do something like that to get into her good graces? He could have slashed her tire, then watched while she came out of the woods. But why would he let her walk an hour down the road to rescue her? That didn’t make any sense and besides, that didn’t sound like Mikael at all. Why would he rescue her then leave? No, it couldn’t have been Mikael. That left only one alternative-—the person who’d been following her, watching her. She leaned her elbows on her desk and rubbed her temples, trying to fight off a pounding headache. She gave too much credence to this stupid feeling. And it was just a feeling. She had never actually seen anyone following her. Stan had to be mistaken. Her tire hadn’t been slashed. She made a mental note to go to the garage tomorrow and take a look at the tire herself. * * * With a gasp Allie sat up. The sheets were tangled around her legs, her nightgown hiked up around her waist. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her heart beat a million miles a minute. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in her familiar surroundings, calming her. Just a dream. But, man, what a dream. It started out with people moaning as if in pain. Women wept, babies cried and men muttered prayers. Heat

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and fear bathed her in an orange glow. The fear so strong she could almost reach out and touch it. Mikael’s presence was in there somewhere, among the crying women and praying men. The orange glow took on the shape and form of fire. Allie could taste Mikael’s fear as if it were her own. She had tried to call out to him, but found she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Forced to listen to the dying people and watch the fire consume everything, she wanted to cry, to pray too. The sounds faded until nothing remained but the roar of the flames. Then the ragged outline of a man walked toward her, his hand reaching for her. Allie huddled against her headboard and drew her knees up to her chest, shivering. Others had died in that inferno and yet Mikael had walked away unscathed. What did that mean? She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her middle. Just a dream. That’s all, just a dream. But it had seemed so real. Too afraid she would fall asleep and have to watch Mikael walk out of those flames again, to hear the cries of the dying and feel her own fear, she lay in bed and watched the sun creep toward the dawn. Later that morning she hurried to Stan’s Garage, looking over her shoulder, convinced someone was following her and just as convinced she was going a little bit insane. If someone followed her then why hadn’t she seen anyone? If she didn’t see anyone why was she convinced someone watched her? With a grateful sigh she stepped into the garage and inhaled the sweet smell of oil, gasoline and grime.


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“What do you mean you don’t have it?” She looked at Stan with wide eyes, stunned that he got rid of her supposed slashed tire. He scratched the top of his blond head and looked at her as if she were loco. Which she almost believed possible. “Well, gee, Allie, I didn’t know you wanted to see it. You just said to put a new tire on your car. You didn’t say anything about wanting to see the other tire.” She groaned. It was no secret Stan conversed better with machines than people. “I know Stan. I just didn’t figure you’d get rid of it that fast.” “Well, if I’da known you wanted to see it I woulda kept it for you.” He acted as if he were chastising a small child. “You need to tell me these things, Allie.” Allie bit back the urge to scream. “That’s okay, Stan. Is my car ready?” He scowled one last time and scratched the top of his head again. “Yeah. You wanna see the new tire?” “No, Stan. No need for me to see the new tire. I’ll pick it up after work if that’s okay.” “Sure Allie. I’m real sorry ‘bout that other tire. I woulda let you, you know. See it that is.” “Yes Stan, I know.” Allie pulled out her credit card to pay for the tire and waited for Stan to write the order up. “Haven’t seen that man around lately.” “What man?” She glanced at her watch. If Stan finished this transaction within the next millennium she wouldn’t be late for work. “That man what’s been hanging around.” Her body tingled in alarm. “What man that’s been hanging

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around?” “That Mikael guy you were hot and heavy with.” Her body seemed to cave in on itself in relief. “Oh, him. No, he left.” Stan nodded as if he understood. She wished he would enlighten her because she didn’t understand anything anymore. She paid for her new tire—without seeing it—and headed off to work. Just her and her paranoia walking to work together. She forced herself not to look behind her the whole two blocks to the library--an almost impossible task, but one she managed. * * * By the time five o’clock rolled around Allie was exhausted. No sleep the night before coupled with her preoccupation that someone followed her and that someone may or may not have slashed her tire made her weary and in need of a hot bath and a good night’s sleep. The second she walked out of the library the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. God she hated this, it almost made her want to lock herself in her apartment and never leave. She stood at the top of the library steps and looked around, intent on finding the person stalking her. Instead she found Nickolai standing on the sidewalk, in full view of everyone. She smiled and skipped down the steps. “Hi.” she stopped in front of him, glad to see him. Nickolai was like everybody’s brother, happy and fun to be around and exactly what she needed at the moment. “Hi. Thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing.” No mention of Mikael, and she would be damned if she’d be the first to bring him up. “Doing well, Nick. How ‘bout yourself?” He took her arm and steered her down the street. “Good. Got


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time for dinner with an old friend?” “Sure.” They sat at the same booth she and Mikael sat in that first day they met, talking about the goings on in Patience, her job and the things Nickolai was doing. Neither of them mentioned Mikael, nor the fact he wasn’t eating dinner with them. Nickolai walked her home, saw her safely into her apartment and left. * * * “Hello?” “It’s Nick.” “Did you see her?” “We had dinner tonight.” “How is she?” “She seemed okay.” “Just okay?” “A little drawn, a little pale, dark circles under her eyes. Tired.” “She’s not getting sick again is she?” “Hell, Mikael, I don’t know. I wasn’t about to ask. You know how she gets when people ask about her health. She didn’t look like she was getting sick. She looked like her best friend left her with no word. She looked like she hasn’t been sleeping well. She looked worried.” “Did she ask about me?” “No.” “She hates me. She thinks I left because she’s sick.” “Well, if she thinks that it’s because you let her think that.” “You know I didn’t have a choice, cousin.”

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Sharon Cullen “I know what I saw, cousin, and it doesn’t look good.” “Keep me posted.” * * * Five days, five nights, five dreams about Mikael walking out

of fire. Allie couldn’t take much more of this. It was starting to wear on her nerves and her health and she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone watched her. Every night she’d wake and go into her living room to sit by the window and scan the street, looking for something, anything, to confirm her suspicions. She was short tempered, tired and didn’t feel well. Martha was concerned and when Nickolai saw her he became concerned too. Her co-workers and the patrons at the library avoided her. Lately Allie had been keeping to her office, leaving only to go home. Going home. She sat in her office all day and thought about stepping out of the library doors and walking the three blocks to her apartment. She watched the time, dreading five o’clock. With the shadows on either side of her, hemming her in, the three blocks home seemed never-ending. She hated being outside, and couldn’t breathe easy until she turned the deadbolt on her apartment door. Then she had a whole new set of problems. Going to sleep. In sleep the dream lurked, waiting to take over. Every night, every dream, she witnessed the people crying and dying, the silence and Mikael emerging from the fires. Her hands shook, she lost weight, couldn’t think, couldn’t complete a sentence without losing her train of thought. It went beyond scared into the realm of terrified. Terrified of the shadows in the streets and terrified of the shadows in her mind. Without anyone to turn to for help, she remained silent. It was silly to be so scared of something she


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couldn’t see, but that didn’t ease her fears or keep her from driving to work when it was much more economical to walk. Paranoia lurked, verging on insanity. Damn it, she was stronger than that! She wouldn’t give in to this sick feeling. In the wee hours of the morning, safe in her home, Allie vowed she would walk to work. She wouldn’t think about the eyes trained on her back. The promise fresh in her mind, she stepped out of her apartment. Every nerve cell in her body screamed in warning. She forced herself to stand on the top step and look around, her eyes darting back and forth. Unseen eyeballs stared at her from every window, she detected movement in every doorway, every car that passed held some kind of danger. All her vows to walk to work vanished. She dug her keys out of her purse and ran to her car, locking the door behind her. Her hands on the steering wheel, she rested her forehead on the back of them, biting back sobs, trying to control her breathing so she wouldn’t hyperventilate. Oh, God, she was going insane. Five o’clock came and went and still she couldn’t gather the courage to journey outside. But she couldn’t stay in here forever so she left the safety of her office, ran through the library, down the steps and hopped into her car. She didn’t care what people thought, her only goal to get home as fast as possible. With a sigh of relief she turned the lock on her apartment door and opened it. Home. Safety. She bent to retrieve her mail and, shuffling through the bills and ads, kicked the door closed with her foot. She stepped inside, her toe hitting a large object, almost toppling her over. She looked down and frowned at the plant overturned in her

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path. Her heart rate accelerated. The mail fell from her hands. She lifted her head and looked around, her heart stopping then kick starting into overdrive. Her breath caught in her throat and her body began that tingly thing again. Plants were knocked over, the cushions of her couch thrown across the room, videos pulled out of their cases and lying on the floor. Stunned, she walked into the kitchen. Cupboard doors stood open and drawers pulled out. The spotted cow cookie jar had been turned over, its contents spread over the counter. Someone had found the flour and poured it on the floor. She stood in the middle of what used to be her kitchen, dumbfounded, turning in circles. In the awful silence Allie heard a clicking noise and realized it was the air getting caught in her lungs as she struggled to drag in another breath. With a gasp she spun on her heel and raced out the door, down the steps and into her car, the last safe haven she had. The bastards had been in her apartment, it wasn’t enough they made it so she couldn’t walk outside, they had to invade her home and touched her things. With jerky movements she stabbed her key in the ignition. Her hands shook and her eyes blurred with tears, but finally the car started. She sobbed in gratitude and with a screech of tires, pulled away from the curb. Halfway there she realized she had headed to Mikael’s house. It was the only place she felt safe. If Mikael wasn’t there then Nickolai would be and Nickolai would know how to get in touch with Mikael. He was all that stood between herself and insanity.


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Chapter 11 Warm hands grabbed her and carried her to the den. Nikolai shoved a glass of brandy under her nose and she took it, taking a hefty swallow, choking on its potency. He sat on the ottoman in front of her, his brows creased, his eyes solemn. God, he must think her insane. She thought herself insane. “Start from the beginning, Allie. Tell me everything.” She took a small sip of brandy. The warmth flowed through her, pooling in her stomach. “Where’s Mikael?” “He’s not here right now. Tell me what happened.” She stuck with the basic facts, facts she could prove, like her apartment. By the time she finished Nickolai was reaching for the telephone and the brandy had worked its magic. She listened to the rise and fall of Nickolai’s voice and watched the flames dance in the fireplace. She had made the right decision to come here. She would be

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all right now. Even her dreams couldn’t find her here. * * * Thirty-six hours later Mikael strode through the front doors of the old Banner mansion. It had been a hellish thirty-six hours in which he had to get a flight out of London and wrap up some business affairs he’d been working on. All the while he’d thought of Allie and Nickolai’s description of her as she fell into his arms, nearly incoherent with fear. Never again did he want to experience that kind of terror. He’d thought by leaving Allie he’d taken the danger with him, but apparently he’d been wrong. It appeared that after several decades his enemies had finally made a move. “Where is she?” He set his overnight bag down in the entranceway. “She’s sleeping. I put her in your bed. I didn’t think you’d mind.” Mikael turned on his heel and headed for the towering staircase, glancing at his watch. It was still on London time. “How long has she been asleep?” “Ever since she arrived.” Mikael stopped halfway up the steps and looked over his shoulder at his cousin, incredulous. “She’s been asleep for almost two days?” “She was exhausted, Mikael. You’ll understand when you see her. I’ve been checking on her every hour.” He turned and bounded up the steps, taking them two at a time and ran down the hall stopping only when he reached the bedroom door. He opened it and peered in. A small bump under the covers of his massive four poster bed told him Allie still slept. He eased into the


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room and padded silently over, smothering his gasp of surprise. She’d lost weight in the two weeks he’d last seen her, gray and blue bruises of fatigue surrounded her eyes. He reached out and placed a hand on her chest where he felt the slight rise and fall of her breathing. She lay on her back, her face turned away from him, one hand on her stomach, the other thrown over a pillow, her fingers curled toward the palm of her hand. Under the covers one leg was straight and the other bent at the knee. He eased out of the room and closed the door behind him. “Have you gone to her apartment?” Nick shook his head. “I couldn’t chance leaving her, even with the security system you have. There was no way I could leave her to wake up alone.” Mikael stared at the closed door of his bedroom. “She didn’t get to look that way just because someone broke in and trashed her apartment.” Nickolai followed his cousin’s gaze. “I thought that too.” Mikael’s thoughts veered toward Serena. No, Allie and Serena’s lives were not parallel. Allie would not end up like Serena. Nickolai shifted from one foot to the other. “Now that you’re here I’ll go take a look at the apartment.” When Nickolai left, Mikael went back to Allie and stood at the foot of the bed watching her sleep, the last thirty-six hours finally catching up to him. He’d been living on adrenaline, but exhaustion nudged the adrenaline way. He peeled off his clothes and climbed under the covers. No way in hell would he leave her now, not even to go as far as the next room to sleep in another bed. He gathered Allie in his arms and snuggled her close to his heart. It had been a long two weeks without her and he was glad to have her back where she

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belonged. * * * The rising sun woke him. He lay in the warm bed with the even warmer woman still in his arms, his mind whirling with possibilities and suspicions. What sort of danger had he left behind in Patience? What happened to Allie in the past two weeks that made her lose weight and sleep? Finding Nikolai would be the first step in answering those questions so Mikael eased out of bed to dress and found his cousin in the dining room, reading the paper and drinking his coffee. Mikael sat down and rubbed the four days growth of beard. Nickolai folded his paper and put it to the side. “The apartment was trashed. No real damage, nothing a good cleaning won’t fix. Apparently she didn’t go into her bedroom or bathroom or she would have told me about it.” Mikael’s hands fell to the table. “What did you find there?” “Graffiti mainly, things written on the walls. Obscenities.” Mikael pinned his cousin with a hard stare. “You’re not telling me everything.” “It was written in Romany.” Mikael pounded the table with his fist. “Son of a bitch.” He pushed away from the table and began to pace, running his hands through his hair. “I need a shower,” he mumbled more to himself. He rubbed his jaw. “And a shave.” Nick pushed away from the table too. “Take a shower, shave, then you’ll be able to think better. Maybe by then she’ll be awake and can tell us more.” Mikael entered his room again and glanced at Allie as he


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gathered clean clothes and made his way to the adjoining bathroom. She still hadn’t woken and that worried him. He was all for rejuvenating sleep but almost three days was long enough. He wondered if he should call her doctor. She would hate that. But how much she would hate him when she woke up? The hot spray pounded his tired muscles. If she hated him now she was really going to hate him when she discovered he was the one responsible for what happened to her. He grimaced, wishing he didn’t have to tell her. A few minutes later he turned the water off and toweled himself dry. After a quick shave he put on clean clothes and felt like a man who could finally face the thousands of questions swirling around in his brain. He walked into the bedroom. Allie moaned in her sleep, almost whimpering. Her legs moved under the covers and her fingers twitched. Mikael reached out and put a hand on her cheek. “Allie, Allie honey, wake up...”

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Chapter 12 England 1816 The first Baron of Marimay stood over the lifeless form of his lover—-his love. It had all been so simple a year ago. All he had wanted was the gentle touch of a woman, a warm, loving body to chase away the chill of his soul. He had gotten that and so much more in Lady Serena Davenport. Technically she was—-had been-—his mistress. In reality she had been more. Now she was dead. Her auburn hair spread like a fan over the rug, covering half her face, her russet silk gown hiked up around her knees. Her arms were flung out to the side. Mikael crouched down on his heels and pulled her dress to her ankles. He picked up the jewel-encrusted dagger lying inches from her


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outstretched fingers and pocketed it. He reached out and pulled the veil of hair away from her face, expecting to see terror etched in her beautiful features. Instead, a serenity he had never witnessed before resided there. He caressed her cold cheek with one finger. * * * One year earlier He was intrigued. No, he was mesmerized. Far more beautiful women strolled the ballroom but none matched her exuberance, her sparkle. Mikael couldn’t take his eyes off her. She seemed to sense this, taking quick, discreet glances his way with that saucy grin he’d first seen just moments ago. He took a sip of his wine as she disengaged herself from the group of people in which she had been conversing. She made her way toward him, studying him as thoroughly as he studied her. His heartbeat quickened and his mouth went dry. He took another swallow of wine. By the time she made it to his side he’d managed to control his body’s reaction. Dressed in deep purple opalescence that changed from midnight blue to almost lavender as she walked, she wore no bows or ornamentations. Her hair was a deep brown shot through with red, her eyes a light brown, bordering on gold. She smiled at him and held out her hand. “Lady Serena Davenport, at your service, my Lord.” It was unheard of for a lady to approach a man and introduce herself. Introductions were made through a third party, always. Mikael had an almost irresistible urge to glance around to see if anyone noticed the faux pas, then realized it wasn’t a faux pas at all. Lady Serena Davenport meant to defy etiquette.

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one of those air kisses most gentlemen gave a lady. Mikael Butler, the first Baron of Marimay, could also defy custom if he chose. He pressed his lips to her skin, feeling the warmth of her hand, and ever so discreetly flicked his tongue out to taste that same skin. He straightened and looked into her golden eyes where amusement and admiration lurked. “Mikael Butler, my Lady.” “I know who you are, my Lord.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and strolled with her around the ballroom floor. It was an intense, immediate reaction they had to each other. He learned Lady Serena was the widow of Lord Gareth Davenport. Apparently, Lord Davenport exited the world without legitimate heirs and the title went to some far away cousin with Lady Serena receiving a very generous allowance, giving her the freedom to enjoy life. He’d had to relinquish her after that to the gentlemen she had promised dances to. He stood in the shadows, never taking his eyes off her, sipping a fine glass of wine. He hadn’t wanted to come to the ball tonight, preferring to spend time in his club, playing cards, winning some money, probably losing more. Nickolai had insisted that Mikael, being the first Baron of Marimay, had to mingle with society more. So Mikael relented. One hour, he’d told himself, one hour and he would return to his club. All thoughts of his club and a good hand of cards flew out the window. He wanted to get closer to the lady and get her in his bed. “I see you’ve made the acquaintance of Lady Davenport,” said the voice behind him. Mikael didn’t take his eyes off the lady with the changing colored dress.


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“I have.” Nickolai stepped up beside Mikael. “She is a beauty. Until recently she was the mistress of Lord Allenby, but rumor has it he tired of her. Or, I should say, she wore him out.” Mikael raised one ebony eyebrow at his cousin. “Mistress?” Nickolai shrugged and took a sip of his wine, his eyes roaming the room, stopping here and there on a pretty woman. “Lover. Whatever.” Mikael turned back to the Lady Davenport and studied her. She was not a beauty, regardless of what Nickolai said. Something in the animation in her face, when she laughed, or even frowned, caught his attention. At the moment she frowned in concentration at something her escort said and then she smiled and her whole face smiled with her. Her eyes lit up, little crinkles appearing at the sides and her teeth flashed white in her pale face. Nickolai pounded once on Mikael’s back. “I can see she caught your attention. Good, you’ve spent enough time closeted in that huge estate outside town.” Towards the end of the evening Lady Davenport found her way back to Mikael’s side. She sidled up next to him and twined her fingers through his. “Walk with me.” It was more a command than a request and Mikael, the obedient soldier, complied. She led them through the terrace doors and outside where the heavy air of the ballroom gave way to a warm, spring breeze. For once the London rain had held off and the crystal clear night shone through. They continued on through the terrace and into the garden. “I’m glad I finally got to meet the mysterious Baron of

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Marimay.” She found a stone bench and sat down, arranging her skirts just so. Mikael remained standing, looking down on her, his hands clasped behind his back. “If I knew what I was missing I wouldn’t have stayed away so long.” She smiled. “Rumor has it the King bestowed your title upon you for work you did during the Battle of Waterloo.” It was not a question, so Mikael did not answer. “I see,” Lady Serena said with a half smile on her face. “You are the mystery man, aren’t you?” “There’s no mystery.” “So you didn’t earn your title in some secret, dangerous, mission?” “Would it matter if I did?” She looked at him for a moment, sizing him up with her halfclosed lids. “No,” she said, “it wouldn’t matter in the least. However, if that is how you earned your title then you deserve it and on behalf of His Majesty’s subjects I’d like to thank you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Patriotic are we?” “Just trying to appeal to your patriotic side.” He laughed and sat down on the bench beside her, taking her hand in his. “And tell me about your life, Lady Davenport. What is it you do with your days?” “Oh, this and that. Charity functions, teas with the other gossip mongers of the ton. Nothing as interesting as you. And you may as well call me Serena. Lady Davenport is so formal and takes too long to say, especially while we’re in bed.” Mikael drew back in shock, then threw his head back and


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laughed. What a wonderful woman, so straightforward and open and honest. Apparently he had passed whatever test she had given and deemed him acceptable as her next lover. He would not disappoint her. Their affair began that night. They were perfectly matched sexually, daring when they wanted to be, slow and leisurely when the need arose. “What are your plans for the day?” he asked a few months after their torrid affair began. He was dressing in front of her mirror, attempting to tie his cravat and having no luck with it. Sometimes he wished he could just move in, valet and all, to solve these petty problems of dressing himself. But to live together so publicly would be scandalous and even though Lady Davenport and Lord Butler disdained convention, even they weren’t bold enough for such a scandal as that. Serena lounged on the rumpled bed, her hair a lovely disarray around her face. “The usual,” she said. “I’m having lunch with Catherine Holmsby. Together we’ll go visiting and maybe take a ride around the park. There’s a charity meeting I have to attend later this afternoon. What about you, love? What are your plans?” Mikael gave up on the cravat. The sky would not fall down if he went out in public without it. He stuffed it in his coat pocket and grimaced. Joseph, his valet, would have a fit when he found it. “Business.” He turned to Serena and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Ah,” she said. “The secret rendezvous’ again.” That’s what he liked about Serena, she never asked for more than he was willing to give, never badgered him about his unexplained absences. The perfect lover, she never pushed for marriage or a deeper

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commitment. “Secret rendezvous’,” he agreed. He threw a kiss her way and walked out, heading for his secret meeting. A few weeks later he and Serena were in bed together, his arm thrown around her shoulder, her head on his chest. He stroked her shoulder and arm with his fingertips. Replete with lovemaking they were both half asleep, the firelight dancing across the ceiling and along the walls. “It’s about time you found a wife and had those heirs,” she said into the peaceful silence. His fingers stopped their lazy exploration. “Wife?” He felt her smile. “Yes, wife. You are now the Baron of Marimay, a title, my dear Lord, needs to be handed down and in order for it to be handed down you need someone to hand it down to. Ideally that person would be your son.” “Are you proposing we get married?” “Certainly not,” she sounded offended. He leaned his head to one side to get a better look at her. “You don’t want to marry me?” She lifted her head off his chest and took a good look at him. “I don’t want to marry anyone.” “Well then, neither do I.” He settled his head back on the pillow and watched the firelight on the ceiling. “You must. I’m sure it’s written somewhere in the laws that you have to marry and produce children.” She said this facetiously, Mikael knew because there was no such law. “Do you find it repulsive to marry me?” “I find it repulsive to marry anyone. I like my life, Mikael. I


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answer to no one and that is quite fine by me. If I were to marry I would have to do as my husband said. I would have to bear children,” she shuddered. “And then I’d be tied to them forever. No. I don’t think so. You on the other hand have a responsibility to marry and create little Lords and Ladies.” Mikael smiled. “Not me, darling. There are no little Lords and Ladies in my future.” “And what if something were to happen to you? What if you were to die?” Mikael shrugged. “There’s always Nickolai.” Lady Serena gave a very unladylike snort. “Nothing against Nickolai, of course, but he’s as old as you.” “Ah, ancient then. What does that make him? Fifty?” Mikael squeezed her shoulder as he chuckled. Nickolai was well over the age of fifty. “Don’t worry Serena love, no one will replace you.” “I’m not worried about that,” she said and Mikael could tell by her tone she really wasn’t worried about that. The next day His Majesty called Mikael away to far off lands to help defeat the enemy. He didn’t return for two months and when he did he found a different Serena. She had never been prone to mood shifts. If anything Mikael could always count on her even temper. She had been a woman sure of herself, of her place in society and most especially her place in life. When he returned from his travels abroad he found a woman turned in on herself, rarely laughing, rarely joking. Silent more often than not, her lovemaking was almost desperate in its intensity. Concerned, Mikael at first thought he had made her pregnant. That terrified him for his own reasons and it was several weeks before he gathered the

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courage to ask her. She laughed. “No Mikael, I am not pregnant.” Relieved, he let the subject drop. The sparkle that had first attracted him to her was gone. He questioned Nickolai but Nick had been overseas with Mikael and had no idea what had happened either. Mikael tried patience, tried understanding, and even tried yelling to get the information out of her, but nothing worked. The dam of reserve broke when he was called away again. She went pale at the news. “Please don’t leave, Mikael,” she said so softly he had to strain to hear her. They stood in her parlor, his bags packed, his coachman awaiting him on the street. “I have to leave, Serena, it’s my job.” “Please, Mikael, I have asked nothing of you in this past year. Nothing. But right now I’m asking that you not leave.” He looked at her in concern. He would have given her the world, had she asked. He would have done anything for her. Anything except marriage and what she asked right now. He stepped forward and gathered her in his arms, feeling her ribs beneath his hands. He had known she had lost weight but didn’t realize until now how much. His concern turned to alarm. He drew back and took her chin in his hand, studying the dark circles under her eyes, the pallor of her skin. “Serena, love, what’s wrong? You’ve never acted like this before. If you’re worried about me being safe I can assure you I’ll be fine. I’ll come back to you.” She buried her head in his shoulder, her body shook and trembled and Mikael held her tighter. He looked out the window,


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judging the time by the shadows. He had to leave soon, within minutes, but he didn’t want to leave Serena like this. “Serena, please tell me what’s bothering you.” She pulled away and walked a few steps from him, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said, a little of the old Serena asserting herself. “I’m acting foolish and with you having to go.” She took another step away. “I’ll be fine. Go do what you have to. I’ll be awaiting your return.” Mikael looked at her for a few moments, torn between his duty to this country and his duty to this woman who stood before him. In the end, duty to country won and the woman lost. He was gone a few months longer than anticipated. He had managed to sneak a letter to her, telling her of the change in plans, hoping to ease her worry. Her face, that last day, had haunted his days and nights. He thought of all the possibilities that would make her change so drastically, so fundamentally, and could think of nothing. Finally, four months after leaving, he bounded up the steps to her townhouse. Not even bothering to knock or announce himself, he strode through the open front door and into the parlor where he found her on the rug, a red pool of blood growing bigger and darker beneath her. He sank to his heels. “Ah, Serena, love.” His voice broke on her name and his throat tightened up, barely allowing him to pull in another breath. “What happened to you? What were you hiding that got you killed?” That was when he noticed the dagger lying next to her, useless.

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Chapter 13 Mikael reached out and shook Allie’s shoulder. “Allie. Allie, honey, wake up.” She groaned, her eyes fluttering. He shook a little harder. If he had to he’d get a glass of water and douse her with it. She’d slept long enough. It was time to wake up. He bent close to her ear and whispered. “Allie, it’s Mikael, wake up, ves’tacha. You’re scaring me Al, please wake up.” Her eyes opened. His heart leapt at seeing those eyes that haunted him all his days and nights at Marimay. He smiled. “Good morning. Nick and I thought you’d sleep through the end of next week.” She looked at him in silent confusion. “You’re at my house, in my bed. Nick put you here the other day after you fell asleep in the den.” She frowned and looked around. “The other day? How long have I been asleep?” She slithered up the headboard and leaned against it, pushing a stray curl out of her eye with the back of her hand.


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“Almost four days. You were beginning to worry me.” She looked at him in shock. “Four days?” She glanced around the room then at the empty side of the bed where he had slept. “My apartment.” She pulled the sheets back and swung her legs over the side. Mikael put a restraining hand on her shoulder. She wore one of his old t-shirts. Nickolai must have taken off her clothes and put that shirt on. An irrational spurt of jealousy raced through him at the thought of another man’s hands touching her. “Nickolai’s been to your apartment. He said nothing’s too damaged, it’s mostly housekeeping.” She fell back against the headboard. “Then I should go back.” He shook his head before she even completed the sentence. “Not on your life. Not until we figure out who did this. You’re not leaving my side, lady.” She looked at him with a frown, her green eyes still hazy with sleep. “In the meantime I’m calling your doctor and asking him to check you out.” She surged off the bed. “No. I’m fine. I just need a shower and a strong cup of coffee.” He caught her and pushed her back against the headboard. “I’m not arguing about this, Allison. You’re staying in this bed until the doctor checks you out. You slept four days, I know you were exhausted but in my book that’s about two days too long.” She moved to get up again and he pushed her back down. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Allie. The hard way being that I sit on you until the doctor gets here.” She slumped against the headboard and glared at him. She folded her arms over her chest, thrusting her breasts up. With his old tshirt he could see just about everything. He turned his gaze away but

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refused to relent. * * * Allie sat in Mikael’s bed and fumed while she waited for the doctor to arrive. She didn’t know what strings Mikael pulled to get the doctor here on a house call and probably didn’t want to know. God, she hated seeing the doctor. Just another in a long line of reminders that she didn’t lead a normal life. Mikael had promised that after the doctor left they would talk and she would tell him everything. Most of it she couldn’t prove. She didn’t know for sure if someone had been following her. And after being secluded in Mikael’s house for four days she thought it had all been her imagination. Her very overactive imagination. And she certainly couldn’t prove her tire had been slashed because Stan had thrown it out before she had a chance to look at it. Who’s to say if it had been slashed it hadn’t been some kids pulling a prank? Really the only thing she could tell Mikael was that her apartment had been broken into and she assumed either he or Nickolai had been back there and knew more about it than she did. With that dilemma solved she changed mental gears. What she witnessed in her sleep didn’t have the fuzzy, blurry characteristics of most dreams. It had been crisp and clear and so real. What did it mean? Why had she dreamt about Mikael and another woman? A firm knock on the door indicated Dr. Douglas’s arrival. He walked into the room and closed the door behind him. Tall, with broad shoulders and sandy colored hair, he liked to talk fishing and hiking and expound upon the virtues of his grandchildren. He’d been her doctor for ages and become as much her confidant, friend and


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psychiatrist as her doctor. “I hear you’ve been sleeping,” he said as he placed his black bag on a Queen Anne chair that stood beside the fireplace. “I’m fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a childish act of defiance. Dr. Douglas smiled and pulled out a stethoscope. “That’s not what Mr. Butler said when he called my office this morning.” “Mr. Butler worries too much.” She eyed the stethoscope. “In this instance it sounds like his worries were warranted.” Allie let out a sigh that sounded more like a growl as she let the doctor listen to her heart. “I was tired. I haven’t been sleeping well lately and I’ve been working a lot. I just needed some rest.” “Mmmm, hmmm.” He listened to her lungs, then put the stethoscope away, but pulled out the light thingy to look in her eyes and ears. “We’ve talked about how you need to get your rest.” “I did get my rest. I just happened to get it all at once.” She submitted to getting her eyes and ears and throat checked out. He took her wrist in his hand and checked her pulse. “Look, I know it’s probably costing a lot to bring you out here like this. I’m fine. Trust me.” “I think Mikael can afford my fees.” “Mikael doesn’t need to pay your fees.” The doctor laid her hand down on the bed and settled on the edge of it. He studied her for a long time. “He likes you. He called this morning damn near frantic with worry. Let me reassure him you’re all right.” Allie looked away from the doctor’s intent gaze. If Mikael liked her so much then why had he left her?

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Sharon Cullen He patted her hand and stood up. “You’re right, you’re fine.

I’ll prescribe more vitamins. Make sure you take them.” Allie let her head fall back on the headboard and groaned. “Not more vitamins, puh-lease. I feel like alphabet soup as it is.” Dr. Douglas smiled and ripped the prescription off the pad. “Let your man worry about you.” “He’s not my man,” she ground out between clenched teeth. If he were her man he never would have left her. After the doctor closed the door behind him Allie took a shower, emerging clean and smelling like Mikael’s soap and shampoo. She found a suitcase full of her clothes and toiletries on the vanity in the bathroom. Apparently she had moved into his room. Fully dressed and refreshed, she walked out of the bathroom to find Mikael lounging against the bed. Maybe if he wasn’t so heartbreakingly good-looking she wouldn’t have fallen so hard for him or been so angry with him when he left. No, that’s not true, she’d fallen for him because of his looks, but she fell in love with him because he cared and had a good heart. She studied those blue eyes that reminded her of cut glass. A ruthless kind of anger resided there. She shivered. She would not want Mikael Butler as an enemy. “We need to talk,” he said. Talking in this room with that huge four poster bed looming between them was not a good idea. “Coffee,” she said, heading from the room. She had learned that Mikael and Nickolai enjoyed their coffee, drinking it by the gallons. How could they sleep at night? She poured herself a cup and sat in one of the dining room chairs. Mikael joined her. “The doctor said you checked out fine.” Mikael blew into his


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cup and looked at her over the rim. “So much for doctor/patient confidentiality.” She picked up her own cup and took a sip. “Don’t be mad at him, Allie. Be mad at me.” She sighed and held her cup between her hands, drawing warmth from it. “I’m not angry at him. Why did you leave me like that?” He stared into his cup for a moment. “I’ll tell you, but not yet. First I want to hear what happened.” Anger whipped through her, but she managed to hold it at bay. “You know more about it than I do. I was only in the apartment a few minutes before I ran out. I’m sure either you or Nick looked the place over.” He nodded. “We have. Nick said when he answered the door you were talking about eyes watching you. What did you mean by that?” She dimly remembering being hysterical and blabbering about eyes. “I think I was just scared. I wasn’t making much sense.” Mikael glared at her, but she refused to meet his gaze, too afraid of what he would find. Insanity maybe? “Somehow I don’t think so. Something scared you, Allie; I wish you would tell me what.” She barked out a laugh. “Yeah, something scared me. My apartment had been broken into, my things thrown around, and my privacy invaded.” Her voice broke on that last word. She had been invaded, violated. “If that didn’t scare me, nothing would.” Mikael studied her, concern in those blue eyes, but something else, something harder. He knew she was keeping something from

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him. How the hell did she tell him she was going crazy? How did she say she imagined people watching her, lurking around the corners, following her? “Do you trust me?” She paused, taken off guard with the question. “I don’t think so, Mikael. If you would have asked me that day in the park when you were fixing my tire, or even after that, in my apartment, I would have said yes. But then I gave you my body and part of my heart and you walked away without a backward glance.” Pain flared, then died in his eyes, but she wouldn’t lie about something as important as trust. “I’m sorry. I deserved that. I left for your own good. I know that doesn’t make sense now but in time I hope it will.” She stood up to refill her coffee. Since she hadn’t eaten in four days, she grabbed a croissant, too. “What’s that supposed to mean? In essence your saying ‘trust me, I broke your heart but it was for a good reason’?” “Did I break your heart, Allie?” God the pain in his eyes was unbearable to witness. “Yes.” Honesty was nothing unless you were complete with it. He reached over and lifted her chin with his hand. “I’m really sorry. You gave me something precious and I didn’t appreciate it.” A tear slid down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb. “Don’t do it again, Mikael. If you have to leave, then tell me.” He nodded, looking deep into her eyes. “I promise. I’ll tell you if I leave. Though I have to admit, I don’t ever want to leave you again. Yours wasn’t the only heart broken.” He released her chin and took a sip of coffee. “So you’re intent on not telling me the rest of the


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story?” “There’s nothing else to tell.” He stared at her and she had the feeling he wanted to say something more but held back. “When you trust me enough will you tell me?” She bit the inside of her cheek and nodded. * * * “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Allie cringed. In one hand she held a stack of her clothes. In the other she carried her suitcase. She’d hoped to get all her stuff moved out of Mikael’s bedroom and into the other room before he found her. No such luck. He strode down the hall, his long legs eating up the space between them. He was furious if the look in his eyes could be trusted. “I’m moving my stuff to the other room.” She lifted her chin and silently dared him to dare her. She walked out of his room, and headed for the room one door down, Mikael dogging her every step. “Why?” She stopped and turned towards him. “Why?” Was the man dense? “Why are you moving out of my room?” “I just told you. I don’t trust you. And I don’t sleep with men I don’t trust.” He ran a hand through his hair and grabbed on to the back of his neck. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, Allie. Not until we know who did that to your apartment.” “This is silly. It was kids, Mikael. There’s no reason to keep me here but for some unknown reason you insist. I’m safe with your

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room on one side of me and Nickolai down the hall, not to mention the state-of-the-art security system you have.” Mikael took a step closer, clearly frustrated. He reached out and snagged the stack of clothes out of her hand. “You’re staying in my room and that’s final.” “Oh? And where will you sleep?” He gave her a dark look that should have warned her his patience dwindled. Of course she ignored it. “Would you like help moving your stuff to the other room?” He turned on his heel and headed into his bedroom with her clothes. Allie dropped her suitcase and stomped after him. She grabbed the clothes he shoved into a drawer. “Do you think just because you slept with me you can boss me around? I’m a grown woman, Mikael. I’ll sleep where I want.” She pulled out a pair of white silk underwear and threw it on top of a haphazard pile forming on the dresser. “In fact, I have half a mind to go back to my apartment.” She didn’t see his hands shoot out, but she felt them close around her shoulders. “Ow! Let go of me.” “You are not going back to that apartment. I won’t allow it and it’s not because we made love, it’s because I’m scared to death that whoever did this will do something else.” Allie’s eyes went wide and she stopped struggling. “Do you know who did this?” His hands dropped to his sides and he looked away. “I thought you could tell me that.” He turned back to her, his blue eyes like diamond chips, fierce and protective. “Stay with me at night. At least for my own peace of mind. Nothing will happen if you don’t want it to, I swear. If you don’t trust


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me that’s fine, but at least believe me when I say I would never take what you aren’t willing to give.” Allie’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She threw the pair of underwear she had clutched between her hands back in the drawer. “Ah, hell.” * * * That night she crawled into bed. Mikael lay on his back, his bare chest uncovered. He tracked her every move as she walked out of the bathroom, lifted the covers and slid between them, grateful to Nickolai for packing flannel pajamas. Without a word she reached over and turned off the light, settling under the covers as close to the edge of the bed as she could possibly get, as far away from Mikael as the width of the bed allowed. She turned her back to him and pillowed her hand under her cheek. Mikael sighed and rolled over, his back to hers. “Good night, Allie.” She hesitated, not even willing to admit he slept in the same room. “Night, Mikael.”

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Chapter 14 “She’s not telling me everything.” Mikael and Nickolai sprawled on separate couches in the den with a beer in their hands, watching Sunday afternoon football. “There’s more to the story than just a break in at her apartment and damn if she won’t tell me what.” “Probably because she doesn’t trust you.” Nickolai took a sip of his beer and watched a replay. “I told her I was sorry.” It came out as a whine and Mikael grimaced. “You took off without a word when she got sick. You come back with apologies and no doubt some sort of line that you would have called and you aren’t like all the other guys who took off for the same reason. You took her virginity then left again, with no word, no note, no goodbye, nothing. If you want my opinion, as I’m sure you don’t, you don’t deserve her trust and if you want it you’ll gave to grovel long and hard for it.” Mikael winced. “You make me sound like an insensitive ass.” Nickolai shrugged, then shouted an obscenity at the ref. “If the shoe fits, cousin.”


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“You know, I come to you for a little compassion and what do I get?” “I’m just giving it to you straight because for some reason you’ve got it in that thick skull of yours that everything you’ve done to her is okay.” Nickolai pulled his eyes from the TV and focused on Mikael. “You’ve got a great girl there, the best. And you’ve done nothing but cause her grief since you showed up in her life. You slept with her. You brought danger, literally, to her doorstep. So, what are you going to do about it? Have you told her the truth about your past?” “Hell, no. You know I can’t do that. We haven’t told anyone about that, ever. Christ, she’d think I’m nuts. She’d be the one running for the hills this time.” Nickolai snorted, took another sip of beer and turned back to the game. “You two are a pair.” Mikael bristled. “And what is that supposed to mean?” Nickolai reached for the TV remote and turned the game off, swiveling in his seat to face Mikael. “It means neither of you is willing to trust the other. She won’t trust you because you run off on her every chance you get and you won’t trust her with your secret.” Mikael nodded. “Okay, I don’t blame her for not trusting me, but Nick, you have to admit trusting her with my secret is a pretty damn big step.” “Like taking her virginity?” Mikael’s jaw clenched and fire shot through his veins. “I didn’t know I was taking her virginity at the time.” Nickolai snorted. “Oh, that’s rich.” “Shut up.” “All I’m saying, cousin, is someone has to be the first to break

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down. Maybe if she sees how much you trust her then she’ll tell you what happened to her before her apartment was broken into.” “And when did you get to be so damn smart about women?” Nickolai laughed and turned the TV back on. “Not watching you, cuz” * * * Mikael found Allie in the kitchen, staring out the back window where flakes of snow fell from the sky. The overcast day carried heavy clouds, obscuring most of the sun’s rays. By sundown there would be a good inch of the stuff on the ground. The circles under her eyes had disappeared as well as the haunted, hunted look. Three days had passed since their argument about the sleeping arrangements. Mikael won the battle, but held an unwilling captive. Every night she woke him with her cries and he would hold her body close to his and enjoy the scent and feel of her. He never pushed her to come closer or for more than she was willing to give. His body ached for hers and the release he knew he could find only in her. He had been so sure he would never see her again, convinced their separation was for the best. When he had run to Marimay it had been with the certainty that he would seclude himself within the walls of his estate and grieve for her until he’d cleansed her from his system. It would have taken decades and when he emerged she would more than likely be dead. All that changed with Nickolai’s call. For the first time Mikael had been pulled from one of his self-centered, self-imposed exiles. Only Allison Tremont had the power to do that. Was Nickolai right? Did Mikael need to open up to her before


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she would open up to him? The thought of telling her everything, of stripping himself bare, sent shivers up his spine. As if sensing his presence Allie turned and stared at him. Since being under his care she had yet to smile or even laugh. He hated that. He wanted to see the smile that had drawn him to her in the first place. He wanted to hear the laughter that reminded him of sunshine and warmth. “Walk with me.” She looked surprised. “What?” “It’s the first snowfall. Let’s walk in it.” She looked at him with her head tilted, proabably trying to decide what he had up his sleeve. Nothing, I just want to be with you. They walked through snowflakes as big as his thumb. Allie kept her head down, huddled in her parka, her cinnamon curls barely visible. Mikael wanted to grab her hand and never let go. Thoughts of her lying in his arms at night tormented him as the sweet smell of her shampoo made its way to him. “I want to go home,” she said. His memories shattered. “I know.” “You can’t keep me here against my will.” He sighed, afraid she would say something like that. “Allie, you know I only care about your safety, but if you want to leave you can.” She looked up at him in surprise. A snowflake fell on her eyelashes and stuck there. With his gloved hand he reached out and wiped it away. “I have to get back to work. I don’t have much vacation or sick time because of my...illnesses.”

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Sharon Cullen “Then we’ll go back tomorrow.” “We?” Despite his earlier warning he reached out and took her gloved

hand in his. “I’ll check everything out, make sure your apartment is secure. Nick and I took the liberty of having your locks changed. I hope you don’t mind.” She shivered. From the cold or from the memory of someone invading her home? “No, I don’t mind. Thank you.” “We also had someone come in and clean it.” He had a twofold purpose for that. One, he didn’t want Allie to do it herself and two, he didn’t want her to see the obscenities written in Romany. “Thank you,” she said. Mikael pulled her to a stop. Allie turned to face him and he stepped in front of her. “I know you don’t trust me, Allie. I pray that in time you will. What I did, leaving you like that, I only had your best interest in mind. You have to believe that.” “I might believe that, Mikael, if you told me why you left. You keep saying it was for my own good, but you won’t tell me why. Why, Mikael? Tell me why it was in my best interest for you to leave after you made love to me twice.” All I’m saying, cousin, is someone has to be the first to break down. Maybe if she sees how much you trust her then she’ll tell you what happened before her apartment was broken into. If Mikael told her would she trust him? Winning her trust again, being comfortable with him, holding her and possibly even making love to her was more important than anything else had ever been. Even finding out what happened to her the weeks preceding the


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apartment break-in wasn’t as important as knowing he had regained that fragile trust. He wanted the light back that his leaving had taken from her eyes. If it meant stripping his soul bare then that’s what he would do. Would she listen to what he had to say? Take one look at him and walk away, believing he had lost his mind? He sighed and let the wind catch it and carry it away. He honest to God didn’t know what to do. * * * Heat. Scorching heat. So much heat it took her breath away and seared her lungs. The cries of the dying invaded her senses, becoming a part of her. And the man, always the man, walking out of the orange and red and yellow of the eternal flames. Only this time he headed for her with something in his hand. A dagger. A jewelencrusted dagger with blood dripping from it. If she listened close enough, if she drowned out the sounds of the dying, she could hear the hiss of the blood as it dripped from the blade and into the flames. Allie sat up in bed and reached for Mikael only to find empty space and cold sheets. She had moved back into her apartment. That morning Mikael had driven her to work, dropped her off and picked her up at five o’clock. They were eating dinner in her kitchen when Mikael informed her he would sleep on the couch. She’d taken one look at the couch then at his tall, leggy frame and knew he would be miserable. “You can’t sleep on that couch. You’ll have to fold up like a pretzel.” He shrugged. “There’s no way I’m leaving you alone in this apartment. So it’s the couch or the floor.”

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Sharon Cullen She tried to ignore the relief that washed through her. While

she still believed she was being paranoid, she didn’t like the thought of staying in her apartment alone. That angered her because this had been her haven, her sanctuary, and now she lived in fear. She’d looked at the couch again and sighed. Ah, hell, she and Mikael had been sleeping in the same bed for the past week; a few more nights wouldn’t hurt. “Sleep in my bed.” He looked down at the couch then over at the front door a few feet away. “I’m not having you sleep on the couch.” “Sleep in my bed. With me.” His head had shot up, desire curling through his blue eyes like the waves in the ocean. “Like we have the past week.” The tension seeped out of him but not the desire. She had crawled into bed with him several hours later and curled up against the edge of the bed, wanting to curl up against him but not daring to. She desperately wanted the feel of his arm around her and the rock solid strength of his shoulder under her head. She wanted to go to sleep to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat in her ear. Too cowardly to make the first move, she had clung to her side of the bed and listened to his even breathing until she fell into a deep sleep. The dream had come then. She hadn’t had this particular dream since before her apartment break-in. Instead she had dreamed about Serena and Mikael. That one varied, sometimes she found Mikael standing over Serena’s body with a bloody dagger. Knowing she wouldn’t go back to sleep anytime soon, she threw the covers back and grabbed her robe, padding through the


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kitchen in search of Mikael. Sometime in the middle of the night it had begun to sleet and the pinging of the ice against the window broke the silence. He stood to the side of the living room window, motionless, dressed in nothing but running shorts. A strip of light from the street lamp highlighted his dark hair, turning it silver. Would his hair look like that when he grew older - silver streaked with black? It made her sad to think she would never know because she wouldn’t be around to see Mikael grow old. He held her book on Gypsies in one hand, his concentration centered on the street below. She thought of all those times she’d stood in front of the window and looked outside wondering if people watched her. She shivered and Mikael swung his gaze to her. “Another bad dream?” “How do you know about my dreams?”

He held out one

arm and she went to him as if drawn by a string. His arm closed around her shoulder and he pulled her into his body heat. She settled into his strength and drew what she could from it. “I’ve slept with you for the past week Allie. You have dreams every night.” “I didn’t know I woke you. I’m sorry.” She caught a flash of white as he smiled. “I’m not, it gave me a chance to hold you and comfort you.” So that’s how she had ended up in his arms. She thought it had been her own weakness in wanting his touch. “What are the dreams about?” She pulled away and sat down on the couch, clutching her robe tighter around her. “Nothing. Just my overactive imagination on

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overdrive.” How was she supposed to tell him she dreamt of him walking out of fire or standing over the dead body of his lover holding a bloody dagger? She tilted her head in the direction of the window. “What are you looking at?” He turned away and lowered himself in the armchair. “Nothing. Just watching the sleet.” Her glance slid to the window and back again. He’d been concentrating awfully hard on sleet. She wondered for a moment if someone was out there then dismissed the thought, refusing to go there again. She would not fall to that paranoia. Not once today at work had she had that sick feeling and she wouldn’t now. Mikael tapped the book he held in his hand, drawing her attention to him. “So what do you think of the Gypsies?” “I think they are an intriguing people who very much value their own customs.” “Very secretive,” he said looking at the jacket cover. “It’s saved them many times. Their ability to survive on their own has saved them from many plagues.” “But not from Hitler’s concentration camps.” He referred to the over half million Gypsies killed by Hitler. Allie thought about the fire and the man walking away from it. “No, not from Hitler.” He kept his attention on the book. “You know, Allie, we never talked about the night we made love.” “What’s there to talk about? You won’t tell me why you left.” He shook his head. “No, not about that. About...” Allie smiled at his sudden inability to form a sentence, something she’d never witnessed before in Mikael Butler. “You mean


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about my virginity.” He nodded, but wouldn’t look at her. “Why me?” he asked. Because I love you? Because I found something in you, a sadness and loneliness, that matched my own? No way would she say that. True, he held her heart, but he could never know he did so. “Because with you it seemed right.” He looked up at her and in that stretch of light from the street lamp she saw the sadness in his eyes. “And the other guys? It didn’t seem right with them?” There had been no other guys. Sure she had kissed and even let one or two touch, but never had she gone beyond that. “It never seemed right with anyone else. Just you.” “I wish you would have told me before.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake and what difference would that make? I was the same person inside, wasn’t I? Was I any different before than after?” His eyes glittered in the dark. “No, you were the same before and after. It’s just something a guy likes to know. So he can prepare.” “So you can say no.” He sighed and placed the book on the coffee table, positioning it just right before he spoke again. “I probably would have said no. Taking someone’s virginity is a special thing. Something no guy should take lightly and we both know there can’t be anything lasting between us.” “Because of your past and my future.” He placed his hands on the armrests of the chair and pushed himself up, stepping to the window again, keeping to the shadows, never getting too close.

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Sharon Cullen “Because of my past. As far as I’m concerned you have a

long future ahead of you.” She jumped up from the couch. “Don’t go deluding yourself, Mikael. I. Don’t. Have. A future. The better you understand that now the easier it will be on you later.” “Are you pregnant?” She blinked. “What?” “It occurred to me that you probably aren’t on the pill and I certainly didn’t use anything that night. So, are you?” “You son of a bitch.” Her feelings for him dried up and scattered to the wind like dead leaves. “You think I tried to trap you, don’t you?” She took a step forward, fully intending on slapping him silly but stopped herself in time. She had never in her life hit anyone, never wanted to, and this man would not be the first. And to think she thought she loved him. She laughed at herself and her naïve stupidity. She turned on her heel and walked away. Mikael caught up to her in a few quick strides and grabbed her wrist, spinning her around. “That didn’t come out like I wanted. I didn’t mean to imply you were trying to trap me. It’s just,” he released her wrist and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just I can’t have children.” He shook his head. “No, I can have children. I just won’t have children. It’s too complicated to explain.” “Because of your past.” “Because of my past.” “You must have one doozy of a past, that’s all I can say.” His smile was fleeting. “The dooziest. Someday I’ll explain.” She sighed. “I’ve been hearing that for a week now.” She looked at him, really looked at him, deep into his eyes and saw that


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sadness she’d first seen when she met him, but tonight something more resided there. Despair. Something had happened to him. Something so bad, so heinous, the man refused to get close to another person, refused to allow himself to love, to marry, to have children. For the first time Allie didn’t want to know what happened. “I’m sorry. I know you would never try to trap me.” “I don’t want kids either, Mikael. I don’t even know if I can have kids. Some people with CF can’t. There’s no way I’ll bring kids into this world when I can’t guarantee they’ll have a mother to see them through life. That’s not fair to them.”

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Chapter 15 The next morning Allie sat at the kitchen table, ate her toast and drank her coffee as if it were a normal morning. As if her world hadn’t been torn apart by Mikael’s question. She had never considered the possibility of getting pregnant. Duh. Ever since sixth grade sex-ed she knew sex and pregnancy went hand in hand. What had she been thinking that night? Well, obviously she hadn’t been thinking and now she might be pregnant. She rubbed her temples and tried to count back and see if the time had been right, but the only thing she could think was that Mikael didn’t want a baby and she didn’t want a baby. Oh, she wanted a baby. She longed to hold an infant, her infant, in her arms, to feel its first tiny movements below her ribs, to grow big and round and ungainly. But that wasn’t in the cards for her and she pushed it to the back of her mind until it was something she would like but couldn’t have. Like Mikael. What if she was pregnant? When she died she’d have to leave her child with a man who didn’t want children because of his past. Pain stabbed the back of her eyes. Oh, God. Okay, first


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things first. First she needed to confirm if she was pregnant. Going to the drugstore and buying an EPT was out of the question. Before she got the box open the whole town would buzz with the gossip that Allie Tremont was pregnant—-gasp—-out of wedlock. No, she couldn’t do that, she’d have to go to Dr. Douglas and listen to his sermon about safe sex. She looked at her watch, then at her bedroom door. She would make an appointment when she got to work. She didn’t want to wake Mikael. She looked at her apartment door. She could walk herself to work. It was only three blocks, what could happen to her in three blocks? She grabbed her coat and headed out the door. She stopped just outside, the sleet had frozen and the steps looked treacherous. The hairs on the back of her neck didn’t stand up, her body didn’t tingle, and she didn’t feel eyes staring at her from every window and doorway. A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she jumped, whirling around to find Mikael pulling the apartment door closed behind him. “Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked as he zipped his leather coat. “I told you I’d walk you to work.” With his morning beard, tousled hair, and eyes still bleary from sleep, he looked adorable. If she touched him he would be all warm and toasty from the covers. “It’s just three blocks, I can manage.” Mikael grabbed her elbow and together they maneuvered down the icy steps. He deposited her at the library and headed back to the apartment with a promise to return for her later. Once at work Allie called Dr. Douglas and made an

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appointment for her lunch hour, then pushed the possibility of pregnancy out of her mind by burying herself in paperwork that had stacked up during her absence. Martha walked in around mid-morning and planted herself in front of Allie. “So he’s back,” she said, hands on hips and a scowl turning her lips down. Allie pushed the papers away. “He’s back.” “And I’m sure you went running back to him.” Allie grimaced. Martha didn’t like Mikael anymore, not after his vanishing act. “No, he came back to me.” She wouldn’t tell Martha it was because her apartment had been broken in to. Martha didn’t need to know that information because then she would wonder why Mikael stuck around. A burglary was not serious enough to warrant twenty-four hour protection and Allie didn’t want to answer Martha’s questions because they were the same questions Allie had. What about this apartment break-in had Mikael so nervous that he stuck to her like fly to fly paper? If it was just the apartment incident Allie would have chalked it up to over protectiveness. But as much as she tried she couldn’t discount the other things that had happened. Things Mikael wasn’t aware of. Or was he? Did he know about the slashed tire and was that why he wouldn’t let her out of his sight? “Just don’t get too involved, Allie. He’s the type who runs at the least bit of a problem. Not a man you want hanging around.” “He has his own problems he needs to work out, Martha. I understand that.” At noon, she gathered up her purse and coat and headed to her doctor’s appointment only to find Mikael standing outside her office.


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Oh, God, he’d found out about the appointment. She stood like a deer caught in headlights, looking at him, her mind racing. He smiled. “Ready for lunch?” Her shoulders sagged. Darn it, she’d forgotten all about their lunch date. “Mikael--” She grabbed his arm and propelled him away from Martha. “I’m sorry, I forgot about lunch. I have an appointment today.” “An appointment? Doctor’s appointment?” She froze, her mind whirling with a thousand things to say, none of them plausible. She nodded. Mikael looked concerned. “Are you not feeling well? Do you have another infection?” Over the past week Mikael had watched her take all her medication and had asked dozens of questions until he knew as much about her illness as she did. He also knew she stayed away from the doctor as much as possible. He followed her out the door, the worry in his voice ringing through her head, making her feel guilty. He has a right to know. This is too important to leave him in the dark. Besides, if it’s positive you’ll have to tell him anyway. She drew in a deep breath and coughed when the cold air hit her hot lungs. She turned to him, saw the look of concern and melted inside. “No, Mikael. I don’t have an infection.” She grabbed his hand and walked down the steps, careful to avoid the patches of ice. They walked in silence for about a block before she garnered the courage to finally tell him. She took a deep breath and said it all at once. “After our conversation last night, I got to thinking and I came

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to the conclusion that I don’t know if I’m pregnant or not so I made an appointment to find out.” Mikael stopped, pulling Allie to a halt with him. His face had gone pale. He swallowed hard. “You mean you could be pregnant?” She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yes.” “Oh, God.” It came out as a whisper, but it cut her heart in half. Did he really not want a baby that much? She forced some levity in her voice. “It’s okay, Mikael. If I am, we’ll deal with it. It’s not the best scenario but I’m sure there’ve been worse.” His eyes stared at nothing. He swallowed as if he were going to lose his breakfast all over the sidewalk. The temperature had to be in the thirties with a wind chill colder than that, but sweat stood out on his forehead. His eyes had a faraway look to them, like he wasn’t here at all but caught in some awful memory he couldn’t get out of. She tugged on his hand but he didn’t respond. “Mikael?” He swallowed again. She waved her hand in front of his face and snapped her fingers. “Mikael. Wake up. We’re going to be late for the appointment.” He blinked and looked at her. “Oh, God,” he said again, a little louder this time. “Yeah,” she pulled him down the street, “you’ve already said that.” * * * Mikael sat in the waiting room with his head between his hands, completely numb. Allie had gone back a few minutes ago and he waited to hear the verdict, cursing himself in several different


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languages for his stupidity. Why, oh, why hadn’t he used a condom? Because, you didn’t have any. It wasn’t like you expected to have sex with the cute librarian. He should have controlled himself better. He should have walked out of the room when she asked him to lie down beside her. Tremors began deep inside and set his whole body to shaking. The thought of her having his baby chilled him to the bone. As the long, long minutes ticked away he prayed she wasn’t pregnant, begged God’s mercy to Allie. He pictured his two wives and his son and daughter, all dead, and his stomach did a slow roll as the fear choked him. Not Allie. That couldn’t happen to Allie. She could not be pregnant because being pregnant with his child meant death for her and for the baby. He choked back a sob and rubbed his face with his hands, trying to erase the silent tears falling down his cheeks, tears he hadn’t even known existed until he felt them on his hands. To lose Allie that way would kill him. He would die a thousand deaths inside if he had to watch Allie struggle to push his baby into the world and die in the trying as the baby died inside her. Yes, he would die a thousand deaths but he would still live, wouldn’t he? There would be no peace in death for him. He would have to live for eternity with the knowledge of what he had done to her. Sitting in the plastic waiting room chair he prayed harder than he had ever prayed in the last two hundred years. An eternity and many tears later Allie emerged, grabbed his hand and pulled him outside without a word. He tried to read her face but it was blank and his heart clenched. He stopped outside the doors, pulling her to a stop with him. “Well?”

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Sharon Cullen She turned to look up at him. “I’m not.” He stared at her, not even daring to breathe or blink or move.

I’m not. That meant no, there was no baby, no death. He let out a whoosh of air and ran his hand through his hair, looking down at his feet. He was so relieved his knees threatened to buckle. I’m not. He reached out and gathered Allie close to him, hugging her so hard he could feel her ribs through all her layers of clothes. “Thank you, God,” he whispered. “Thank you for sparing her.” From now on he would protect her against pregnancy. If she would ever let him get close to her again he would make damn sure they never had to go through this a second time. She wiggled and pulled away. “Was it that bad?” she asked, eyeing him. “Was the thought of having a baby that bad?” He nodded. “If I were a normal man, Allie, and if these were normal circumstances I would give you as many babies as you want. I’d fill houses with our children and thoroughly enjoy the making of them, but...” She held up her hand to stop him. “But these aren’t normal circumstances. I know and I’m just as relieved as you.” She placed her finger on his lips. “I would love to have your babies, Mikael. I would like nothing more than to hold one of our babies in my arms, but that can’t be and I’m sorry for it.” He kissed her finger and took her hand in his as they headed in the direction of the library, sorry too for everything that could never be and everything that had been. * * * Allie spent the rest of the day closeted in her office, writing grant requests, happy she wasn’t pregnant, sad she never would be,


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knowing it was for the best, but grieving for it at the same time. A few hours before quitting time she decided she needed a break. Searching for fresh air she headed outside after telling Mikael, who sat at a table flipping through a magazine. Mikael seemed to sense she didn’t want company, that she needed to be alone with her thoughts. She pulled her coat tighter around her and stood on the top step looking out over the town of Patience. It really wasn’t fit weather for anyone. The below zero wind whipped through her, making her shiver but she wasn’t quite ready to go back inside. She needed to feel the bite of the wind and to think about the last few hours. The look on Mikael’s face when she walked out of the doctors office...well, raw fear was the best way to describe it. It would be a long time before she forgot that look. And when she told him she wasn’t pregnant the raw fear changed to immense relief. A feeling not too far from her own. What was in his past that caused such a reaction? She shrugged. She had asked, several times, and he’d refused to tell her. Either he would tell her in his own time or he wouldn’t tell her at all. There was nothing she could do about it. The wind picked up and whisked her hair into her face. As she turned to head back in, something nudged her from behind. Her foot slipped on a patch of ice. With a cry of surprise she reached out, her fingers curling around what felt like nylon but lost their grip and she tumbled down the steps. * * * Mikael lifted his head and looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes had gone by since Allie went out for her breath of fresh air. She had promised not to go off the front steps so he’d let her go alone

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because she looked like she needed a little time to herself. The thought of being pregnant had shocked her almost as much as it’d shocked him and he suspected she was a little disappointed she wasn’t pregnant, regardless of what she said. Mikael understood most women had a deep seated need to have children. It was programmed into them, just like the need to give them children was programmed into men. Allie was a normal woman who wanted children and Mikael understood the fact she couldn’t have them bothered her. So he had let her go outside to be alone with her thoughts. But fifteen minutes was long enough, especially in this cold. He didn’t even bother pulling on his jacket but walked out to tell her to come in before she got sick again. He didn’t find her on the steps and cursed her for breaking her promise. He spied her red coat at the bottom of the steps, lying in a patch of ice. Heedless of his own safety on the slippery steps, he raced down them. “What the hell happened?” He felt her all over for broken bones, his heart hammering in his chest. “I fell,” she said, “on the ice.” She brushed his hands away and attempted to stand. He pushed her back down. “Let me call the doctor.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she pushed him away and stood on her own, a little wobbly, but on her own. “I’m fine. I just fell on some ice.” She walked away, wincing with each step. As she walked into the library, Mikael stood on the top step and looked around, his eyes taking in everything. There was no sign of anyone but he didn’t know how long she’d lain there either. Long enough for someone who pushed her to run away?


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He strode into her office, slamming the door shut behind him. “You should go home, soak in the tub.” “I’m fine,” she snapped, sinking into her chair. “Go away.” His legs suddenly too weak to hold his weight, he folded himself into the other chair. “Allie, are you sure you slipped?” She stared at him for a moment, her lips pursed. “I don’t know what you mean. Do you think someone would push me?” “I’m asking if someone pushed you.” “Why would someone push me, Mikael?” Her voice was quiet, as if she were accusing him of something. “You tell me.” “You think this has something to do with my apartment being broken into, don’t you?” “It might.” She looked at him for a long while. “I fell.” He nodded, not buying it for a minute. She was pushed. He didn’t know how he knew that, he just did. * * * By the time five o’clock rolled around Allie was so stiff she could hardly move. She’d made Mikael promise not to say anything to Martha about her tumble so she tried to walk out without limping. Once home Mikael ran a hot bath for her and she sank into it with a sigh. What a day. She’d gone from thinking she might be pregnant to falling down the library steps. Except, you didn’t fall, did you? Someone stood behind you and pushed you down those steps. Her eyes flew open as she recalled reaching out at the last moment and brushing against what felt like nylon. Like what a winter

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coat would be made of? Someone had been standing behind her, and instead of catching her before she fell, had stepped away and watched her tumble. Her apartment had been broken into and trashed. If she believed Stan, her tire had been slashed and now she had been pushed from the library steps. Maybe she wasn’t so crazy, maybe there had been people watching her when Mikael was gone. So why aren’t they watching now? Why did they stop once Mikael returned? She needed to tell Mikael everything. If anyone could help her figure this out Mikael could. When she first met him she had sensed something deep and dark and dangerous inside him and while she knew he would never turn that dangerous side towards her, she also knew he would use every bit of it to help her. Tell him. The phone rang, and Mikael’s voice rumbled through the closed bathroom door as he answered it. When her fingers felt like prunes and the last of the chill left her body, she pulled the plug on the bath and got out, dressing once again in her oversized gray sweats, wincing as the soft cloth came in contact with her myriad bruises. “Who was on the phone?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen. Mikael turned and surveyed her from head to foot, something he had done several times since finding her at the bottom of the library steps. She ignored the perusal and took a seat at the table. “No one,” he said, turning back. “When I answered no one was there.” * * *


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The dream came again with the fire and the heat and the cries and Mikael walking out of the flames, this time with his hands outstretched. Allie woke with a start, her heart beating double-time, her breaths coming in soft pants. When was this going to end? She reached for Mikael and like the night before found the bed empty. Grabbing her robe and heading into the living room she found him, also like the night before, standing in front of the window looking out into the night. Searching for the person who pushed her? “Bad dream again?” He didn’t turn from the window. Neither did he offer her the comfort of his arms. “Yes.” “I wish you would tell me what it is you dream.” “I wish you would tell me about your past.” He grinned as he scanned the street below. “Touché.” He held the Gypsy book in his hand and turned it over and over. “Have you read all of this?” Allie made her way to the couch and settled in, drawing her feet up underneath her and tucking her robe around her legs. “Yes.” “Did you read the part about the curses?” “Yes.” “Do you believe it?” “Do I believe in curses?” He nodded. “I believe in the possibility of a lot of things.” “Like what?” “Well,” she shifted positions, trying to find one that didn’t hurt. “Like UFOs and ghosts. I believe there’s a possibility they exist. Who are we to say we’re the only life form out there?”

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Sharon Cullen “So you believe in the possibility of a curse?” “Yes.” “The Rom call curses amriyas.” “Do you believe in amriyas?” A swift grin came and went on his face. “Oh, yes.” “Have you ever seen one?” He hesitated. “Once.” There was a pause as she tried to

assimilate this information. “The Rom call ghosts mulo.” “From what I understand the Rom are very superstitious.” Mikael nodded. “They won’t travel at night for fear of the dead. So do you believe me when I say there are such things as curses?” “I believe you. Though I’ve never seen one, I like to think I have an open mind.” “Do you trust me yet, ves’tacha?”


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Chapter 16 Mikael had stepped into the shadows and Allie could barely make out his motionless form. “Yes, Mikael, I trust you.” What had changed? Why now did she trust him? The abject fear on his face when he found her at the bottom of the library steps. Her safety had been his number one concern and that alone melted her reserve. He let out a sigh. The next thing she knew he was beside her on the couch, taking her in his arms and kissing her. She’d never even seen him move from the shadows. His hands cradled the back of her head as his mouth devoured her skin and lips. Allie made a sound way down deep in her throat and clung to his shoulders as her body softened against his. With a swiftness that surprised her, Mikael lifted her in his arms and carried her back to bed where he began to peel her clothes from her. When he revealed her bruises, he went still, then reached out and traced each one. He sucked in a breath with every contusion he touched.

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Sharon Cullen “Misto! Ves’tacha.” He lowered his head and kissed each bruise in turn, laving it

with his tongue before going on to the next. Allie had many bruises and it took a long time. By the time he finished she was squirming underneath him, wanting more. He talked to her in Romany while he made love to her, telling her things she didn’t understand but were beautiful nonetheless. * * * Mikael described her beauty in an ancient language as his hips thrust against hers, slow and sensuous. This time he’d come prepared. Never again would he go through the fear of thinking he’d made her pregnant. Regaining her trust was the biggest aphrodisiac ever. Allie belonged to him now, forever. Or for as long as God gave them. He would never to leave her again and he would protect her with all he had at his disposal. As he looked upon her pale skin with the dark bruises, rage tore through him. Whoever did this would pay. Mikael would see to that. He had all the time in the world to track the man down and take revenge for marking Allie’s body and making her hurt. * * * Allie ached in places she had never ached before and it had nothing to do with her tumble down the library steps. She sat at the kitchen table, finishing off her breakfast, listening to the running water of Mikael’s shower. Her chest felt tight and she had a goofy smile on her face but couldn’t seem to get rid of it. Last night had been beyond her fantasies. Mikael had kept her up half the night showing her numerous ways to love and be loved in


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return. They talked, they giggled, they made love and then they slept in each others arms. Today she wouldn’t worry about the future or a broken heart or any of the other things that always made her so careful and constricted. The phone rang, pulling her out of her thoughts and she stood to answer it. “Hello?” “Get rid of him or next time it’ll be more than your apartment that’s destroyed.” She released the phone as if it were a snake ready to strike. It swung back and forth, smacking against the wall as she slid to the ground, her legs giving out. In her panic her chest constricted. Air became harder and harder to suck into her lungs. Helpless to do anything, she concentrated all her energy on pulling in the little air her body allowed. She huddled against the cabinets and pulled her knees up to her chin. In the back of her mind she heard the shower turn off and Mikael whistling. * * * “Hey Allie, I heard the phone ring. Was it Nickolai? I’ve been expecting a call from him...” Mikael walked into the kitchen, pulling a soft flannel shirt over a gray t-shirt. Allie sat huddled on the floor, her face gray, her chest heaving. Horrible wheezing sounds sent the hairs on the back of his neck up. “Oh, shit.” He dropped to his knees beside her and took her head in his hands so she’d look at him. “Tell me what to do, Allie. What do you need?” She wheezed and rattled, but no words escaped. Christ, were her lips turning purple? She needed air. He looked around, trying to

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remember what she told him she did when she got like this. She clutched at his arm and made an up and down motion with her thumb. His mind went blank, panic pushing away all intelligent thought. “Again, Allie. Tell me again.” She did it again, pumped her thumb up and down, desperation in her eyes. She glanced to the living room, then back at him. “I can’t...I don’t know what you’re trying to say, honey.” God, help me. Don’t let her die on me. Not yet. She drew in another shallow breath, the skin around her mouth turning blue. Her eyes fluttered. Terror welled up within Mikael and he shook her shoulders. Her head flopped to the side. “Stay with me, Allie. Don’t you dare pass out, damn you!” She needed her asthma-like thingy. That’s what she’d been motioning for. He surged to his feet and tore through the kitchen to the living room in search of her purse. He dumped the contents out, each labored breath of Allie’s echoing through the small apartment and tearing a hole through him. He grabbed the blue inhaler and raced back to the kitchen where he held it for her while she took deep puffs off it. After a few minutes that felt like hours, the blue around her mouth faded and she breathed a little easier—-not how he would like to see her breathing, but easier nonetheless. He leaned against the cupboards with her, his legs spread out in front of him, taking huge gulps of air, as if his deep breathing would help Allie pull more air into her lungs. The panic began to ease and he wiped his brow with the back of his hand, surprised to find he was sweating. “Better?” She nodded. “I need...to...get to...the doctor. Need...to


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do...a...treatment.” She leaned her head against the cupboard and closed her eyes. He sat up and eyed her. “When was your last treatment?” She had told him she went twice weekly, but he’d been with her for the past week and a half and had never seen her go to any treatment. “Damn it, Allie, you’ve been skipping your treatments haven’t you?” Her lack of a response was the only answer he needed. He gathered her in his arms, carrying her to the front door like a baby. She didn’t object, which scared him more. He grabbed her coat and headed for his car. * * * Later that afternoon Allie was in the back of the library shelving returned books. She hired high school students to do this but sometimes she liked to do it herself because it gave her peace and quiet and a chance to think. The tightening in her chest was gone and for the first time in days she could pull in a complete breath. Dr. Douglas chewed her out when Mikael carried her into his office. She knew she shouldn’t miss treatments, knew they were what kept the sludge in her lungs from drowning her, but she had so enjoyed being normal that she had skipped them. Never again. She would never do that again. Not only had it scared her to death, but it had scared Mikael to death too. His face had drained of color when he saw her slumped on the kitchen floor and panic flared in his eyes. Then, when he returned her to work, he had been furious, barely speaking to her except to tell her he’d be by later that day. “Allie?” She turned to find one of the high school girls she’d hired standing behind her. “You’ve got a phone call.”

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Sharon Cullen Allie abandoned her cart of books and walked to the check-out

desk, hoping Mikael was on the other end no longer angry with her. “Hello?” “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear this morning. Get rid of him or you’ll fall a lot farther next time.” “Who are--” The phone clicked, then went dead. Allie stared into space. What had the man meant? Get rid of who? Mikael? You’ll fall a lot farther next time. A tremor ran up her spine. So she had been pushed. By who? Someone who wanted Mikael gone? Then why push her? She didn’t know how long she stood with the phone clasped in her hand, staring into space. Long enough that the dial tone turned to a loud beeping. A masculine hand plucked the phone out of her fingers and set it in the cradle. Mikael sat her in her office chair and closed the door behind him. “Who was that?” She tried to focus on him but the strangers voice still echoed in her head. Get rid of him. He had to mean Mikael. “I don’t know.” Mikael leaned over the desk, planting his hands wide apart on the cluttered surface, fury evident in every rigid muscle. “First things first, Allison Tremont. Don’t you ever skip another treatment again. Do you understand me? I don’t ever want to relive that kind of fear.” He pushed away and paced a few steps. Running a hand through his hair, he grabbed onto his neck, massaging his muscles. His jaw clenched and unclenched and he looked at her with stormy eyes. “I thought I lost you this morning.” His ragged voice made


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his accent heavier. Allie shook her head, too mute to speak after seeing the devastation in his eyes. Mikael sat in the chair opposite her desk and stretched out his long legs. Long, jean clad legs. Long, snug, jean clad legs. Like a good rerun, images of what they had done the night before ran through her brain. She licked her lips as her body turned to butter, and pulled her eyes away to meet his. Big mistake. Those crystal eyes flared with desire and longing, burning holes right through her. “Tell me who was on the phone.” Maybe I didn’t make myself clear this morning. Get rid of him or you’ll fall a lot farther next time. She had heard that same voice this morning when she answered her phone at home. Get rid of him or next time it’ll be more than your apartment that’s destroyed. Her eyes shot to Mikael. “Um, Mikael? Remember that past you didn’t want to tell me about? Well, I think it’s time to spill the beans because I think it’s catching up to you. And me.” His soft crystal eyes turned to diamond chips, his body tensed as if he were about to pounce, and he went still. The amount of control he exerted over his body screamed danger. “Who was on the phone?” His voice was deadly quiet. Allie swallowed. This was the same man who’d made love to her several times last night. The same man who’d tickled her, then brought her to three shattering orgasms. She had nothing to fear from him. But still her heart kicked up a notch and the adrenaline pumped through her veins.

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Sharon Cullen “I don’t know, but it was the same person who called this

morning. Each time he warned me to get rid of you or something would happen to me.” “Tell me exactly what he said.” She did, word for word. He stood, the movement so sudden it made her jump. He reached the door to her office and turned back to her, pointing one long finger in her direction. “Stay here. Do not leave this building for any reason. I’ll be back at five to pick you up.” She looked at him, her heart thundering in her ears. “Where are you going?” “I have some business to take care of.” “Do you know who made those calls?” His eyes flickered. “I think I do.” He disappeared through the door and Allie almost felt sorry for the man Mikael hunted. Almost. Because she suspected it was the same man who’d pushed her off the steps yesterday and trashed her apartment a few weeks ago. * * * Mikael didn’t show up at five. By six her worry turned to fear that he’d been hurt. At ten after six Mikael strode through the doors. “Ready?” he asked. Ready? She’d been tearing her hair out for over an hour and all he asked was if she was ready? She opened her mouth to say something along those lines when he smiled at her and that was all she wrote. His smile lit up his face and made his eyes glow and melted her anger. He took her elbow and walked her all the way home, asking


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about her day, not once mentioning the phone calls or where he had been the last five hours. He opened the door to her apartment and ushered her in. She stopped at the threshold and gasped. The place sparkled with lit candles covering every available surface. In the middle of the living room sat a linen covered table set for two with crystal and china and more candles. A bottle of wine chilled in a bucket beside the table, soft music played in the background. Allie could barely manage to get her chin off the ground as Mikael helped her off with her coat. “That’s why I’m late. I had to run to my place to get the china and crystal. I hope you don’t mind.” He walked into the room and popped the cork on the wine. “I had dinner catered.” Mind? No, she didn’t mind. “What’s the occasion?” He grimaced as he poured wine into two glasses. “You’re right. You need to know about my past because somehow you’re now caught in the middle of it. And I have a feeling I know why.” Allie’s heart fell. So this wasn’t exactly a romantic dinner, but more a buttering up of Allie so she wouldn’t be too upset when she heard about his past. She took a sip of wine while Mikael uncovered dish after dish. This was more than a buttering up; this reminded her of stuffing the proverbial turkey. They ate in silence, Allie lost in thoughts of what the evening would bring. Secrets revealed, confessions made, for sure. But how would it end? Would they be together or apart at the finale? The thought of losing him, of standing at the check-out desk at the library and never seeing him walk through those doors again, ripped her heart apart. Dinner over, she sat on the couch, wine glass in hand, legs

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curled beneath her. Large snowflakes drifted by the window as Mikael cleaned up the last of the dinner dishes. She wished she had a fireplace to curl up in front of to complete the romantic night. She wished they didn’t have to discuss something Mikael was clearly reluctant to talk about. He entered the living room, and paced, stopped, rubbed his hands on his jean-clad thighs and began pacing again. Allie continued to sip her wine as he paced some more, stopped, ran his hands through his hair, paced, stopped, rubbed his hands on his jeans. Suddenly he turned to her. “I don’t know where to start.” “How about from the beginning.” He looked at her in surprise. “That far back?” “That far back.” He looked at her, doubt clear in his eyes. “Okay.” A deep breath, another deep breath and then a whoosh of air as he released his breath. “I was born in the year seventeen sixty-five.”


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Chapter 17 Allie fumbled her wine glass but managed not to spill any. She waited for the smile that said he was joking, waited for him to say he wanted to bring some humor to the situation. She waited. And waited. And waited. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say? You were born in the year seventeen sixty-eight?” He bit his bottom lip and looked at her with worry. “This isn’t going well, is it?” “Nooo. No, this isn’t going well at all, Mikael. You said you would tell me about your past but obviously you have no intention of doing that.” She stood and placed her glass on the coffee table, careful to control the rising anger. “Come get me when you’re ready to be serious. I’ll be in the bedroom.” He caught hold of her arm. “Sit down and listen to me and hopefully it will all make sense.”

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Sharon Cullen She quirked an eyebrow but couldn’t resist those pleading

eyes. She sat. And he paced some more. “The other night we talked about curses, and you told me you were open to the possibility of curses. Remember that?” She nodded. “Well, a long time ago I didn’t believe in them, but now I do.” He sat on the edge of the chair, then stood, then sat again. He looked at her, his eyes boring into her, asking her to believe. “I was born in seventeen sixty-eight. My name is Mikael Giovanni and I became the King, or Kralis, of the Giovanni Gypsy tribe. For centuries the Giovanni’s and another Gypsy tribe have been feuding. My grandfather believed this other tribe put a curse on me.” He stood again, shoved his hands in his back pockets and looked out the window. His voice became less nervous and more reminiscent. His slight accent grew more pronounced. “He said they cursed my bloodline. You see, Allie, I have been married twice, both my wives died in childbirth along with the babies.” He paused, his voice faltering on the word babies. “Oh, Mikael. I’m so sorry.” The sorrow in his voice she couldn’t deny. “Is that why you don’t want any more children? Are you afraid they’ll die?” How awful. He drew in a shaky breath and ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “Yes. My mother said my wives were small and the babies too big, but my grandfather was convinced the Tre...our enemy cursed me. Purodad, grandfather, believed this other tribe didn’t want the royal Giovanni bloodline to prosper. “The night my son died my Grandfather entered my tent and put a curse on me. He didn’t think of it as a curse though, he thought of


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it as a way of circumventing our enemy and preserving the Giovanni line.” “What was the curse?” He looked at her for a long moment, but she sensed he did not really see her. “I can not die.” She pulled in a shaky breath. “He cursed you,” she repeated, more for her benefit than his, “to live forever.” He turned from the window and walked back to the chair where he sat down and placed his elbows on his knees and stared at her. “You have to understand the Romany way of thinking. Time means very little to them. An hour ago and two hundred years ago can be the same thing. A feud can last for eternity.” “So how old does that make you?” “Almost two hundred and forty. But I’m kind of stuck at thirty-three. I didn’t believe it at first either. But then I noticed that everyone around me was aging, except me. About ten years after that I accepted the truth and that’s when I left the vitsa.” “So what have you been doing for the past--” she did the mental calculations, “--two hundred and four years?” God, was she really having this conversation? Mikael smiled as if reading her thoughts. “I’ve been bumming around the world.” “Bumming around for two hundred years?” He shrugged. There was a lot more, a whole lot more, to the story, if, that is, the story was true. She shook her head. Come on, no one lives forever. She let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Mikael. This is all a little hard to digest.” But it makes your dream seem real, doesn’t it? The

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one with Serena, his lover? Could that have really happened? Could she have dreamt of something that really took place in Mikael’s life? If she were to accept the dream as real, then she also had to accept that Mikael had at one time stood over his lover with a bloody dagger. She glanced at him, his crystal eyes begging her to believe him. He hadn’t killed Serena. Someone had, of that there was no doubt, but it wasn’t Mikael. Not her Mikael. But could he have changed since then? After all, a person could do a lot of changing in two hundred years. “I know it’s a lot of information and I know it’s the last thing you expected to hear, but you have to believe me, Allie, it’s the truth.” She bit down on the inside of her cheek and thought long and hard, trying to assimilate and digest all she’d been told. No way in bloody hell a man lives forever. “I read that in Romany marime means unclean. Why do you call your estate in England Marimay?” Mikael smiled. “Good question. After I left the vitsa I changed my name to Butler and attempted to make a new life for myself, but my clan refused to believe I was truly gone. There were a few kidnapping attempts, one of them successful, to bring me back and force me to take over my duties.” “Why didn’t you want to continue with your duties?” “I’m sure you love being a librarian but would you want to do it for eternity? With no end in sight?” She shook her head. “I didn’t think so.” He stood and paced to the window again, looking out. “I ran to England where the King bestowed a title upon me. I took the title of Marimay thinking the Rom would consider me unclean and leave me alone. It worked. The Rom believe in


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cleanliness and avoid anyone unclean, or marime. My title made me an outcast.” “The King bestowed a title upon you?” Her voice squeaked. “Aren’t titles earned?” “Oh, I earned it all right.” He turned to her, stood straight, clicked his heels together once and executed a perfect bow. “Mikael Giovanni Butler, my lady, Baron of Marimay. At your service.” To her utter astonishment he slipped into a crisp British accent. She gaped. This was the Mikael of her dream, the rogue who bedded Lady Serena Davenport, who wore a cravat and breeches and spoke with a crisp accent and did secret things. Oh. My. God. This was too bizarre. She closed her mouth and cleared her throat. For the life of her she didn’t know what to say. What do you say to a man who thinks he’s a Gypsy king, a Baron and was born almost a hundred and forty years ago? Nothing intelligent, that’s for sure. “I can see you’re speechless.” “Um...” “Yes, definitely speechless.” He walked out of the living room, leaving Allie to stare at nothing and think about everything. He returned with another bottle of wine, refilling both their glasses and sitting in the armchair, this time settling deep inside and crossing an ankle over his knee. He looked relieved, like a man who had rid his shoulders of the world. No doubt she looked like a woman who had the world on her shoulders. She took a fortifying sip of wine. “Tell me where I come into all this.” “Well, this is where it gets tricky.” Like it hasn’t been tricky up to this point?

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asking your name when we met. If I would have known, then I would have stayed away.” “My name?” Was it possible to be even more confused? Oh, yes, definitely. “Your last name is Tremont. The enemy I talked about, the one who put the curse on my wives and children, was the Tremont clan.” Bombshell number thirty-two just landed at her feet. Honestly, she needed someone to start yelling incoming. “And this Tremont clan, you think they’re related to me?” “No. But they think they’re related to you. To them you are a Tremont and must be kept from me at all cost.” He paused. “Even at the cost of your life.” She jumped as if someone had pinched her. “Surely they wouldn’t kill me, a person they think of as their own, to keep me away from you.” His laugh was bitter. “Surely they would. Although by and large Gypsies are a nonviolent people I have reason to believe Christoff would do exactly that.” “Christoff?” Mikael’s gaze narrowed on her. “Do you know Christoff Tremont?” She licked her lips and looked into her wine. “Allie?” “I, um, met him. When he was in town.” “You went back to the Gypsy camp without me, didn’t you? Damn it, Allie, I told you not to go there alone. He could have done


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anything to you.” “I wanted my fortune read and since you threw the cards around the tent the first time, I had to go back. Besides, how was I supposed to know they were your enemy and I was a member of their clan?” “I told you those cards don’t mean anything.” “I don’t think you really believe that. I think you believe in them. You know what my cards said don’t you, Mikael?” His guilty gaze slid away. “They said I’m going to die, just like I told you I’m going to die.” “There are many kinds of deaths, not all of them permanent.” “That’s what Anna said.” “Anna?” “The fortune teller.” Mikael snorted and looked out the window. “So what are your plans? I know you have some plan brewing in your brain.” “To find Christoff.” “What then?” “I don’t know. I’ll figure that out when I find Christoff.” Allie turned her gaze to the window. The snow fell harder, making it impossible to see anything beyond a few feet out. Mikael stood. “I’m going to bed, are you coming?” She shook her head. “Go on.” Mikael looked at her with something close to desolation, then walked out, closing the bedroom door behind him. Allie sat curled on the couch, playing with her warm glass of wine. People didn’t live forever. Gypsies didn’t put curses on people.

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Those things were not possible. What would you do if you could live forever? To be given the gift of time, that would be wonderful. You call it a gift. I call it a curse. Tell me, Allie, would you want to live forever? Each time there had been such sadness in his eyes, such hopelessness that it had nearly broken her heart. She rubbed her throbbing temples. She had said she was open to possibilities, but she had never been confronted with those possibilities. Librarians dealt in facts and research, not magic and curses. An idea popped into her head and she latched on to it. Of course. There had to be something written about the Baron of Marimay somewhere. All she had to do was find it. Of course, if she found it then Mikael could have found it too. Maybe he read about the Baron and took on the title knowing no one in America would dispute him. She rubbed her temples again, this time in weariness. The only thing she could do to prove or disprove him was find facts to base all this upon. She stood and stretched, watching the snow fall outside her window. Did it matter if he’d been born over two-hundred years ago? Did it matter if he’d not, but believed he had? A few minutes later she crawled into bed and snuggled up against his warmth. He curled his arm around her and drew her to him. No. She loved him just the same. She was in love with a two hundred year old man and a Baron to boot. Normal? Ha, forget normal. She’d take this any day of the week.


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Chapter 18 “Aw, come on Mikael, please.” Allie trailed Mikael through her kitchen and into her bedroom. “No.” He threw a stack of clean clothes on her rocking chair, not even breaking stride with his refusal. “Listen, you told me you’ve done all you can in tracking down Christoff. You said now we just have to sit back and wait and let the Gypsy network do its thing. It’s the perfect time.” She looked around her once neat bedroom, now scattered with bits and pieces of male clothing. Mikael sighed and turned to face her. Gypsy King? Baron? If his housekeeping habits were any indication, most definitely. “Allie, I can barely keep you safe in Patience, how am I supposed to keep you safe in Portland, even for a day?” “Don’t you see? It’d be easier. There are too many people for Christoff to try anything. I need to go, Mikael.” He stepped around her and headed for the kitchen. “Tell me

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again why you need to go to Portland.” She trailed behind him and spoke to his back, but she didn’t care, at least she had his attention, that was an improvement over an hour ago. “Library business.” Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie. She suspected Mikael knew she didn’t believe his story about being cursed but he never asked and she never outright said. She needed proof. She didn’t know what kind of proof, but she would know it if she found it and she hadn’t found it in Patience or on the Internet. While the Patience Public Library was sufficient for this small town, she needed to do big time research and that meant having access to a big time library. He rested his butt against the counter and blew on his mug of coffee, studying her over the rim. “This is important to you?” “Very.” He eyed her for a moment, then sighed. She sensed his defeat in that sound and her heart rose. “Fine. We’ll head out tomorrow.” * * * Mikael drove the two hours to Portland while Allie dozed. She didn’t believe him, but she hadn’t thrown him out on his ear either and he considered that a good sign. At times he caught her watching him with her head tilted to the side and her green eyes narrowed, apparently trying to make his strange story fit into her world. His curse was beyond anything she had ever encountered in her short life, but she had to come to that conclusion herself. In the meantime he dropped her off at work, then searched for Christoff. The Gypsies network worked rather well in getting information to and from other Gypsies. Mikael had to find some fellow


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Roms, tell them he needed to speak to Christoff Tremont, then sit back and wait. Eventually the message would find Christoff, he would reply and his message would reach Mikael. It’s the way things had been done for centuries and the Gypsies found no reason to change. Mikael and Nickolai put the word out two days ago and were in a holding pattern, waiting for Christoff’s answer. What Mikael would do or say to the man once they faced each other, he had no idea. He supposed the answer would come to him then. In the meantime he’d take Allie to Portland and let her do her research. Yes, he knew she searched for information on him. He understood her need to find concrete facts in this strange situation. So he would take her to Portland and let her wander through the dusty stacks in the Portland library, then he would take her to a nice dinner and make love to her in a nice hotel. For the next twenty-four hours he would make her forget about Christoff Tremont and the threats on her life. Anger simmered at the thought of what Christoff had done to Allie. He had invaded her home, harassed her on the phone and pushed her down the steps all because she befriended Mikael. His blood boiled at the memory of the bruises on her body and of her huddled on the kitchen floor, fighting to breathe. He understood her inability to breathe had more to do with missing her treatments than with the phone call but it still infuriated him that Christoff could have provoked her attack. He would remember that long drive to the medical center for the rest of his never-ending life. It had only been five blocks, but it had been the longest five blocks he had ever driven. The thought of losing her scared him to death and he’d decided right then and there that if

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Allie pulled out of this attack he would stick by her till the end. No way would he ever let her go through that alone. He refused to consider what he would do after Allie died. * * * Books had always been Allie’s thing. Ever since she could read she devoured pages and pages of books, losing herself in other people’s lives. It didn’t matter if it was fiction or non-fiction. If it had a cover and pages inside, she would read it. She found the book she was looking for and plucked it off the shelf. * * * Several hours, one lunch, and about a dozen books later she got her first hit and the chase was on. There was nothing quite as invigorating as research. She could search for hours and hours and come up empty handed and with one turn of the page, one flick of the eye, her whole day would be salvaged. That one little piece of information may lead her in a different direction, a direction she had no idea she could even go. Her first reference came from a book of Gypsy lore. She found a song about a revered Gypsy king who walked the Earth for eternity, commanding legions. One reference led to another and soon Allie amassed dozens of stories and sightings of a dark haired man rumored to be cursed to live forever. She found one small passage about a man named Mikael G. Butler. Mikael Giovanni Butler? She didn’t know, but that passage led to another book that lead to three whole paragraphs about a man named Mikael Butler who, while in service to the King of England during the Battle of Waterloo, performed heroic deeds above and beyond the call


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of duty. For his heroic actions he received the title of Baron and several thousand acres of His Majesty’s land. Like a hound on the scent, she glanced at her watch, noted she had another hour before meeting Mikael, and dove right back in. Just about out of time, flipping through the pages of yet another dusty, mold-scented book, Allie found another reference. As her eyes scanned the page she leaned back in her seat, her butt numb from sitting for so many hours, her head aching from squinting at the pages, her heart pounding at the new information she just discovered. Lady Serena Davenport, widow of Lord Gareth Davenport, was found dead in her home on the evening of July 12, 1816. The cause of death, stabbing. Scotland Yard is searching for Lord Mikael Butler, the Baron of Marimay. As to the question if he was involved in this murder, Scotland Yard will not say. Their only statement being they are looking for the Baron to question him concerning Lady Davenport’s demise. Allie read and re-read the short article before setting it aside and reaching for the last book. She scanned the text, jumping here and there, checking her watch every few minutes. Towards the end she found what she had been searching for. She read the entire page of the eye-witness account and sat back, tears blinding her vision, her heart stuttering to a stop then kick-starting again. Her dream came back to her in a rush. Visions of flames and fire and screaming people crowded her mind. Allie put her hand over her mouth in horror. “Oh, Mikael.” * * * “Hello, Allie. You in there?”

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Sharon Cullen Mikael sat back in his chair and looked at Allie with a mixture

of loving tolerance and irritation. Her mind was a thousand miles away, clearly not on him, and he felt a little frustrated. They were seated at one of the best restaurants in Portland, having just come from their room at the bed and breakfast where they had changed into evening dress. Not once had Allie commented on her surroundings. Hell, she probably hadn’t even bothered to look at her surroundings so lost was she in her own little world. Mikael toyed with the stem of his wine glass while Allie played with her food. He had considered this a mini-vacation. Thoughts of protecting Allie were never far from his mind but in Portland he felt he could relax a bit. However, her lack of attention concerned him. She was very pale and had barely touched her food not to mention she’d hardly spoken a word since emerging from the bowels of the library. Visions of her huddled on the kitchen floor filled his mind and he hadn’t been able to help asking if she felt well. She had given him a very disgusted look and said she felt fine. But she was so quiet and withdrawn, so deep in thought that it took several attempts at calling her name for her to hear him. She turned blank eyes away from the pasta and looked at him. “I’m sorry, were you saying something?” “Just wanted to know where you had wandered away to.” She looked around the restaurant, then down at her food. A blush rose up her neck and cheeks. If he could have he would have tossed her over his shoulder and hauled her back to their room to have his way with her and to take that blank look from her eyes. Just what the hell had she found in those books to put her in such a tailspin?


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When she looked back at him her eyes held wry amusement. Well that was something at least, much better than nothing. “I’m sorry I haven’t been much of a dinner companion.” She took a bite of her pasta, chewed, then lifted her wineglass and took a hefty swallow. * * * Allie couldn’t get the information she’d read about Mikael out of her mind. She believed him now. Yes, he still could have found the same information and adopted it as his own, there was still the possibility he was a fraud, but she didn’t believe that anymore. She honestly believed he was born in the eighteenth century. It was the other thing she’d discovered that bothered her. She felt his hand on hers and looked down to see their fingers twined together on the table. Mikael had gone all out, insisting she bring a dress so they could have a proper dinner. The wine was the best, her steak perfectly cooked, her dinner companion attentive and gorgeous in his dark gray suit that probably cost more than she made in three months. She shook her head to rid herself of dark thoughts and concentrated on Mikael and his crystal eyes looking at her, sending her messages of what she could expect the rest of the night. She shivered in anticipation. Mikael smiled and raised her hand, trailing kisses along her knuckles until she was forced to pull her hand away before she jumped him right there. She didn’t think the very proper waiters would approve of that. “So tell me about your wives.” She dug into her pasta. He looked a little stunned. “My wives? Why would you want to know about them?”

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Sharon Cullen “I want to know everything about you, Mikael. That’s going

to take some time considering you’ve lived a very full life.” “Does that mean you believe me?” She nodded. “I believe you.” His shoulders slumped in apparent relief and the tension left his eyes. “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand. “Tell me about your wives. Did you love them?” He reached for his wineglass. “Maria was my first wife, picked by my mother and father. She came with a very generous dowry and the right connections. I did not love her, had never even met her until the day of our wedding.” His eyes clouded with memories and Allie sat back to listen. “She was very quiet, very unassuming, and in time I suppose I would have fallen in love with her.” “How long were you married?” “Ten months. Just enough time to impregnate her and watch her die.” “I’m sorry. If you’d rather not talk about it--” “She gave me a son. The boy didn’t live long, a few minutes maybe. Maria died while giving birth. My mother said the baby was too big and Maria too small, a fluke.” “Mikael--” “Rosalina was next. I married her not a year later because my people wanted their king married and with family and by God it was my duty to do what the people wanted. My mother and grandfather picked her this time; my father had died earlier that year. She came from a very old, much respected family who had been friends with the


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Giovanni’s for centuries. Rosalina was a little thing, and at the time I wondered why my mother would pick someone so small to bear my children. Especially after what happened to Maria. I should have questioned it more. She died thirteen months later while giving birth to my daughter.” Allie sat back and watched the play of emotions on Mikael’s face – despair, horror still so fresh it nearly consumed him, deep regret and sadness. She sensed he had never talked about his wives before. “That’s when your grandfather decided the Tremont’s had cursed you?” He lifted a corner of his mouth in a semblance of a smile. “Yes. Mother argued with him, told him the babies were too big, but he didn’t believe her. He was convinced all my sadness was due to the Tremont’s.” Mikael played with his knife. The silver caught the light and reflected it back. “What did you do after you left your tribe?” He abandoned the knife to pick up his wineglass. “This and that. I fought against Napoleon for a time.” “Is that how you earned your title?” “Yes.” “And then?” He shrugged and gave up playing with the wineglass to sit back and cross his arms over his chest. “I played with my money mainly, investing and such.” Allie leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table. “It’s been a long time; surely you’ve done more than that.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t have an itinerary if that’s what you’re looking for.”

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Sharon Cullen She narrowed her own eyes at him, determined not to be

intimidated. “I didn’t ask for an itinerary.” She leaned back and crossed her arms under her breasts, mimicking his pose. “Defensive aren’t we?” He uncrossed his arms. “Not in the least.” She bit her bottom lip. She could tell by the ice in his eyes that he had shut down and she wouldn’t get any more out of him tonight. His past was just that, and he wasn’t willing to delve into it just because she asked. * * * Allie moaned beneath hands that caught her skin on fire. Every time he touched her, her body responded, ready for him, begging for release. She had thought with time her reaction would die down, but that hadn’t happened. When they were together it was always explosive whether it had been twenty-four hours since the last time or twenty minutes. They always came together with a hunger that sometimes frightened Allie, but always turned her insides to liquid jelly. Tonight was no exception. A coolness had developed between them since her attempt to ferret out his past, but that didn’t stop the heat from building once they entered their room. And what a room. All antique brass and cherry wood, it looked more like something out of eighteenth century London than modern day Portland, Maine. She wondered if that was the reason Mikael had chosen it. His tongue licked its way down her belly. His hands kneaded her breasts. She wiggled underneath him and gasped, wanting more. He drove her to such a frenzy with his touch that she was impatient for more. The more aroused Mikael became the slower his movements


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until she practically screamed for release. She felt his grin against her stomach. He slid up her warm body then stopped, poised just outside her entrance. She stilled, waiting for the final assault that would bring them satisfaction. But he didn’t move, didn’t plunge in. She opened her eyes and found him staring at her with those beautiful eyes of his, his hair mussed, a five o’clock shadow on his chin and cheeks. God, she loved this man, secrets and all. She had never intended to fall in love in her lifetime, had never wanted anyone to get too close. But somehow this mysterious, dark stranger had shoved his way through to her soul and planted himself as firmly as if he could stay forever. “Allie?” Those crystal eyes flickered with the briefest of hesitations. She wiggled again, silently prompting him. His eyes darkened with passion and something more. “Marry me, Allie.”

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Chapter 19 Allie’s body stiffened, her stomach plummeted and her heart seemed to stutter to a stop. With flattened palms she pushed at Mikael’s chest. He fell to the side with a groan as she surged up off the bed. “What?” Mikael lay on his back, his eyes devouring her, the remnants of his deep passion radiating from the crystal depths. Allie ran a hand through her hair and paced the room. “Marry me,” he repeated. She stopped and stared at him. “I heard you the first time.” “That’s not exactly a yes or a no.” She stared at him, open mouthed. “You’re damn right it’s not a yes or a no. What the hell happened to, ‘I’m never getting married, Allie’?” He folded his hands behind his head. Earlier he’d built a fire in the fireplace and the flames danced shadows on the walls and his face, highlighting one side of his body, glinting off the silver hoop in


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his ear, turning his black hair blue. “I remember telling you once that if I touched you I would never be able to let go. Remember that?” She remembered. It was the night he showed her his weapons collection and she had wantonly thrown herself at him, nearly begging him to take her, even if it was for a one-night stand. The memory of that humiliation still burned bright inside her. “I remember.” “I also remember telling you I had already fallen half in love with you. I lied. I had fallen completely in love with you. I didn’t take you up on your offer because what I felt for you would last forever and forever is a long time for me. I also knew that if you learned my secret you would run the other way and I couldn’t bear that.” He unfolded his hands from his head and scooted until he rested against the headboard. She was relieved when he flicked the sheet over his waist, she didn’t need that particular temptation right now. “But you didn’t run, Allie. You’ve accepted me for who I am and you’ve stuck by me.” His laugh held a cynical edge. “Even when your life was threatened. I love you and it is a forever kind of thing. I’m willing to take what you’ve given me for however long God deems me worthy of it.” She looked around for her clothes. This conversation would be much easier if she was at least partially covered. She spotted Mikael’s shirt on the floor and shrugged into it. “We’ve discussed this, Mikael.” She fumbled with the buttons. “There is no future for us.” Grief flooded his face, then disappeared. “I don’t care what

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you say. I want you to marry me. I want us to be husband and wife. But whether you marry me or not I’m sticking around until the end.” The blood left her head and she staggered, her equilibrium thrown for a loop. “No.” She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He made a slicing motion with his hand. “I’ve watched people die. I’ve heard their cries for loved ones. I’ve seen the agony on their faces. I’ve seen death too many times to count. So don’t think you’re shielding me from something I haven’t witnessed before.” “No.” She finally gave up on putting the right buttons into the right holes. “I won’t let you stand by and watch me die. I won’t allow it.” He slid off the bed and stalked towards her, gloriously naked. “And how are you going to stop me? What are you going to do, Allie? Run? I’ll find you, I’ll hunt you down.” She retreated, putting obstacles in his path - a chair, a small table. The chair he walked around, the table he stepped over. “I love you and I will be there for you.” “What if I don’t want you there?” She bumped into the wall, literally backing herself into a corner. He stepped in front of her, mere inches away, and grabbed her hand. “I’ll be there to hold your hand.” He reached out and caressed her cheek. “I’ll touch you so you’ll know I’m there.” He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll kiss your body.” He leaned back and opened his eyes to look at her. “I’ll whisper in your ear and remind you of the good times.” “And what will you do after I’m gone?” She could barely speak through the raging emotions. Oh, God, this man was her


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undoing. “I’ll miss you for eternity.” He let go of her hand and cupped her cheeks with his palms, wiping away tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I want to grow old with you. I want my babies growing in your belly. But we are not to have that, so I will take what we’ve been given, whether it’s two years or five or even, God willing, ten. I’ll take it and I’ll thank God for it and I’ll rejoice every minute of every day.” Her knees buckled and she slipped to the floor. Deep inside she railed at the fates, cursed God and his wicked ways for sending her a man she couldn’t even meet in heaven when the time came. She hated her illness and resulting weakness. “I can’t marry you.” Every word he spoke was etched on her heart but none made a difference. She wouldn’t make him watch her die. She simply would not do it. He trembled, then turned and walked to the fire where he stared into the flames for a long time. “You can’t or you won’t?” She sniffed and wiped her face with her hands. “Both. Either. Neither. It doesn’t matter which.” He raised his gaze to hers and the deep despair in that look ripped her in two. “That’s fine. But you won’t push me away. I’m here to stay, whether you like it or not.” He held his arms out to her and she stood and walked into them. What kind of a fool would turn down an offer like his? A fool named Allison Tremont, that’s what kind. * * * The next day Allie fell into a funk. Mikael drove back to Patience while she pretended to doze, but he could tell by the unevenness of her breathing she didn’t sleep. That’s fine, let her stew.

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He hadn’t really thought she would agree to marry him anyway. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. He wanted to marry her, wanted to make her his wife. Regardless, he wouldn’t leave her and that’s all that mattered. They pulled into Patience late in the morning and headed for Mikael’s house. He needed to get clean clothes and check on some things. Allie had never asked where he got his money, and he never volunteered the information. Old money, he would have said and that would have been true. Old money he had invested a long time ago and still invested today. He owned several businesses and corporations, most as silent partners. While he rarely got to Marimay anymore he did travel to England and Europe to conduct business. Being with Allie these past weeks had put him behind on a few projects, so he deposited her in the den of his home and headed to his study where he made some over-seas phone calls and tried to track down Nickolai who was supposed to be on the scent of Christoff. A few hours later he went in search of Allie, finding her amid his collection of antique weapons, staring at Serena’s dagger. “Hungry?” She swung around, her green eyes huge in her face. “What’s the matter?” “Tell me about Lady Serena Davenport.” He stopped in mid-stride and stared at her, stunned to hear Serena’s name come from Allie’s mouth. “What?” He groped behind him for the chair he knew was there and fell into it. His spine tingled and his body felt numb all over. His gaze flickered to the dagger, then back to Allie. Did she know the significance of the dagger? Impossible. No one knew about the


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dagger, not even Nickolai. “How do you know about Serena?” He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like someone had gone over it with sandpaper. She walked with unsteady legs to the chair opposite his and sat down. Licking her lips she stared at him. “This may come as a surprise,” she said, “it certainly surprised me when I found out yesterday, but I seem to have dreamed about her.” The room tilted. “You dreamed about Serena?” She nodded. “Several times. The dreams,” her eyes slid away from his, “um, differed each time.” Needing to move, he stood, and paced the room, his head bent, his mind whirling. Obviously Allie had read about Serena in some book she found and had linked their names together. Allie didn’t dream about he and his former lover, those things didn’t happen. Sure, Butler, and being cursed to live forever doesn’t happen either, does it? He shook his head and kept pacing. “No. There’s no way you dreamt about me.” He swung around to face her. “Me and Serena?” Allie lifted her chin. “You didn’t want to go the ball the night you met her. You wanted to go to your club and play cards, but Nickolai convinced you to go. You promised him an hour, you said you would stay an hour and leave, but you met her and you stayed until the end. That’s when you took her back to her house and--” Mikael held up his hand. “Dosta! Enough. I believe you.” Muro Devel. My God, this could not be happening. Yet everything Allie said was the truth. That conversation with Nickolai sprung to mind like it happened yesterday. He hadn’t wanted to go to that ball, he had been looking forward to going to his club and playing cards. Allie’s huge green eyes tracked his every move, her face pale. His

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breath left him in a rush. The love he felt for her knew no bounds. What had he done to deserve her? How was it that they were connected in such a way that she dreamt about things in his past? “What’s happening here, Allie?” “I don’t know. All I know is when I dream these things I’m there inside your head, hearing your thoughts, listening to your conversations.” Her voice had become tight and he feared another breathing attack, but Allie seemed to get a hold of herself and straightened her spine. “At first I thought it was a dream, but when you told me about your curse and you spoke in your British accent I knew it was far more than a dream. I went to the library to see if I could find proof of your curse and read a newspaper article about Serena’s death.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, afraid to ask the next question. “What did the article say?” “Just that she had been stabbed and Scotland Yard was...” She looked at him. “Looking for me,” he finished for her. He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn.” “The article insinuated Scotland Yard thought you might have killed her.” The pain of Serena’s death had dulled to a throbbing ache, but it still hurt. In his own way, he had loved Serena. Not like the love he felt for Allie – that was timeless. His feelings for Serena were that of best friend. “I didn’t kill her.” “I know.” “You do?” Most people at the time had believed he’d killed his lover. To hear Allie’s belief in his innocence warmed him and


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surprised him at the same time. He could never let her go, not now. He didn’t know how it happened, but he couldn’t live without her. Allie nodded. “At first I wondered. In my dream,” she swallowed, “sometimes you got there after the murder and other times you were standing over her with the bloody knife.” She indicated the dagger under the protective glass. “But after listening to you talk about your wives, women you didn’t even know, and hearing the regret in your voice I knew there was no way you could have killed Serena.” Relief surged through him. Even though Serena’s death happened over one-hundred and fifty years ago, it still felt good to hear someone believe in his innocence. She was something else, this little elf librarian of his. “Thank you for believing in me.” She smiled. “So that explains your dreams and why you were always reluctant to tell me about them.” Her eyes slid away again. “Yes.” He sat down. “My God, this is really bizarre.” Allie laughed. “Bizarre? Mikael, everything about you is bizarre.” He smiled, then laughed with her. “You’re right. But this almost tops them all.” Allie stood and walked towards the dagger as her smiled disappeared. “Where did you go all those times you left her? You said you were doing ‘secret things’.” His gaze fell on the dagger. “That’s what Serena called it, secret things. I worked for the King, fighting against Bonaparte. Serena would joke about it, but I think it bothered her more than she let on. That last time...” he stopped, nearly two-hundred years of guilt hitting him in the gut.

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Sharon Cullen “She asked you not to leave.” He cleared his throat. “She begged me not to leave.” “You had no way of knowing what she was going through.” “She had changed, become clingy, desperate.” “And afraid?” He nodded. “Yes. Afraid.” “Did you ever find out who killed her?” “No. Scotland Yard did find me and talked to me, but I was a

Baron, favored by His Majesty, and they had no solid proof. It was dropped.” She turned from the dagger to him. “I think I know what happened to her.” His eyes widened. “You know who killed Serena?” “No. But I think I know why she was acting like that at the end.” Allie cleared her throat and coughed. “There’re things I haven’t told you. Things I didn’t think were important for you to know until recently. Now I’m beginning to think...well--” she shrugged. “After I met you and we got to know each other, I had this vague sense of being watched. I thought I was nuts and tried to ignore it, but the more time I spent with you the stronger the feeling became. After you left...” she cleared her throat and looked away. “After you left, the feeling intensified until I couldn’t even step out of my apartment. It was horrible. I thought people were standing at every window, watching every move I made. Passing cars seemed threatening; people walking down the street more sinister. There were times I went home convinced someone had been in my apartment.” Stunned couldn’t begin to describe what he felt right now. How had he not known? Because you were too busy running from her,


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in fear of your feelings. You’re such an ass, Butler. “Why didn’t you call the police?” An image of Steven Lane pinning Allie up against the wall jumped into his mind. He ran a hand through his hair. Christ, she couldn’t even go to the cops without fear. “I considered going to the police, but what could I tell them? That I thought someone was following me and someone might have broken into my apartment? It got to the point where I couldn’t even walk to work anymore.” She laughed. “I drove myself three blocks to the library then sat in my office all day getting up the courage to drive home. I tried to tell myself no one was out there, but it didn’t help. Then one day my apartment had been broken into.” “That’s when you ran to Nickolai?” “Yes.” His blood ran cold, he could barely breathe. Guilt ate at him for not being there when she needed him. She’d been through so much alone, refusing to burden him or even the police with her problems. This woman needed a keeper, a protector and for some reason, God had chosen him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Didn’t she know he’d do anything for her? She spread her hands out wide, her eyes beseeching him to see her point. “I thought I was imagining it. But then those dreams kept coming and I read about Serena’s murder and wondered if the same thing happened to her that was happening to me.” “You were pushed from the steps.” Holy hell! He’d been right inside the library, mere yards from her, and still he hadn’t been able to help her. “Serena was stabbed.” And he hadn’t been there for Serena

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either. Depression weighed him down. “Someone’s trying to kill anyone I get close to.” “There’s more.” His breath left his lungs. Good God, could he take anymore? “What?” “That flat tire you changed? Stan at the garage said it had been slashed.” For an ex-soldier and intelligence officer Mikael couldn’t do any more than stare at the woman he loved – the woman he let down. Someone was trying to kill her, had tried not once but twice now. His gut clenched and anger rolled through him, more anger than he had felt since that fateful night in seventeen ninety-eight. This great need to protect Allie rose within him. He had this indescribable urge to lock her in a closet until he found the mad man who tried to drive her insane then kill her. Was it Christoff? It had to be. He had no other enemies. Impotent rage raced through him and he clenched his hands on the arms of the chair to keep from jumping up and running after Christoff Tremont. What a mess. What a stinking, stupid, sorry mess. And to think he had dragged Allie into it just because she had caught his eye in the museum and he wanted to get to know her better. She didn’t deserve this, and he would fight with every tool at his disposal to get her out of this. She looked at him with sad green eyes, her hands clenched together in front of her. What did she do to deserve the likes of him? “You’re blaming yourself.” “You’re damn right I’m blaming myself! I should have


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walked away from you that day in the museum.” “I’m glad you didn’t.” He let out a bark of laughter. “You would have been much better off without me.” She shook her head. “No. You’re wrong. I never wanted to fall in love, but you changed that. I’m glad I met you. You’ve added so much to my life, so much that had been missing.” He laughed again. “I sure did. Took a nice, small town librarian and thrust her into the middle of some damn family feud. You deserve better than me.” She took an angry step forward. “Don’t you dare say that. You’ve made my dull life very interesting. Thank you.” His gut twisted and he had to fight to get the words out of his dry throat. “I’ll protect you, Allie. I promise I’ll keep you safe.” “I know you will. I trust you with my life.” “Marry me.” Her face closed up and the light in her eyes diminished. “No.” “Why?” “Because I refuse to make you a widower for the third time,” she cried out. Nickolai strode through the door and stopped, his gaze flickering between the two of them. “Do you want me to leave?” Mikael turned to him. “Did you find Christoff?” “No.” “We’ve got a problem.” He relayed the information Allie just imparted to him, still not quite believing history was repeating itself. Nickolai listened, his black eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I have a solution to this mess,” he said after Mikael

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finished. “It will solve all your problems.” “What?” Allie took a step closer, her face expectant but Nickolai stared at Mikael with an intensity Mikael had only seen at the worst of times. “I know the curse your grandfather used--” Mikael surged out of his chair. “No,” he all but roared, causing Allie to jump and stare at him in disbelief. “Absolutely not, I forbid it.” “Christoff will back off and Allie--” “No.” He swung to his cousin, fists clenched, his body balanced on the balls of his feet. “I’ll not have you say another word, Nick. Not another word.” Allie looked back and forth between the two cousins as Mikael and Nickolai stared each other down. Nickolai turned away first. “Think about it, cousin. It will solve every problem.” Mikael strode over to Allie and grabbed her hand, pulling her through the room and out the door. * * * “What was that all about?” She asked after they got into his car. “Nothing.” “I have a right to know if it concerns me.” “It doesn’t.” She looked away, furious that he wouldn’t tell her something that could help her. When they got to her apartment, she dallied by the car, not wanting want to enter. What if the burglars had returned? Mikael


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unlocked the door and she hung back while he opened it, walked in first and looked around. “All clear,” he called from the interior. “You can come in.” She breathed a sigh of relief and stepped inside, her gaze darting around. Nothing out of place. While Allie flipped through her mail and listened to her messages, Mikael ran back to the car to get their luggage. The first message was from Martha, informing Allie a shipment of books she had been waiting on had arrived. The next two messages were hangups. “Probably telemarketers,” she mumbled to herself. “Aaaaallllliiiieeee.” She froze at the soft voice. “Aaaalllliiiieee, pick up the phone. I told you to get rid of him, but you haven’t. Tsk-tsk, sweetheart. What am I going to do with you?”

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Chapter 20 Mikael reached around her and turned the machine off. With his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face he stared at the device, then lifted his head and looked at her with suppressed rage. “I’ll get him,” he said softly. “I’ll make him pay for what he’s doing to you.” He held out his arms and she walked into them, resting her head against his chest, breathing in the fresh scent of him. For the first time, the reality of the situation hit her and she began to shake as Mikael rubbed her back and held her tight. “I promise, ves’tacha, I will find this man and I will stop this madness. Please believe me when I say everything will be all right.” She snuggled into his warmth and hard strength. “Will it? Will it be all right? Because it wasn’t for Serena, she still died.” His breath hitched and he stiffened but kept rubbing her back, holding her tight. Chills raced along her spine and set off another round of the shakes. “I’m scared, Mikael. More scared than I’ve ever been in my life.” More scared than when her doctor told her she would soon be put on the lung transplant list. That had a sense of unreality to it. This


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didn’t. He tightened his hold. * * * The next day Mikael sat on a couch in the Patience Public Library resting his head against the back cushion, trying to stay awake. He had a caffeine loaded Starbucks coffee in front of him that wasn’t doing its job properly. Coffee had come a long way in the past twohundred years, and now with Starbucks and its spin-offs his selection was endless. He stifled a yawn and rubbed eyes that felt like sandpaper. He had lain awake half the night thinking about Allie’s dreams, the slashed tire and the people following her. He had culled through it all and sifted through it and placed everything in its proper place while he held her warm body against his side and listened to her labored breathing. Was he imagining it or was Allie having a harder time breathing? “You look like hell.” The other end of the couch gave way under his cousin’s weight. He didn’t bother opening his eyes. “Thanks. Hear from Christoff?” “Nope. Thought about what I said yesterday?” “Nope.” A big sigh escaped from Nick. “Did you at least talk to Allie about it?” “Nope.” “Mikael...” “I told you I won’t discuss it.” “She could live forever like you and I. She wouldn’t suffer anymore and the two of you could be together forever.” A forever kind of thing. That was what had popped into

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Mikael’s head the first time he realized he had feelings for her. What he and Allie had was forever, but not the kind of forever Nickolai spoke of. “I asked her to marry me.” Nick paused. “And what did she say?” “No.” “Do you love her?” He popped an eye open and glared at his cousin. “Of course I love her. Why would I ask her to marry me if I didn’t?” “Does she love you?” “She’s never said, but I think she does. She’s scared of dying alone, yet she doesn’t want me around when she does.” * * * Allie poked her head out her office door and checked on Mikael. He and Nick were into a deep discussion so she picked up her phone and dialed. “Hello?” “Is this Sergeant William Warren?” There was a long pause on the other end and she bit her bottom lip, afraid the man wouldn’t want to talk to her. Afraid he would hang up before she had a chance to explain. She had warred with herself about placing the call. Part of her wanted to learn the truth and another part warned to just let it go. But she couldn’t let it go. “Yes.” He sounded cautious. “Sergeant Warren, my name’s Allison Tremont. I’m a librarian at the Patience, Maine public library. I’m doing some research and wondered if I could ask you a few questions.” Sergeant Warren fell silent while a game show played in the


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background. Something rustled on the other end and the game show noises disappeared. “What kind of questions?” he asked. She pictured a stocky, barrel-chested man with a steel gray crew cut lounging in a fake, leather Lazy Boy. “I’m sorry for intruding on your morning. If you’d like, I could call back.” It was a last ditch effort to get out of what she just got herself into. She heard the hiss of a match flaring up, then silence. “Call me Will. Haven’t been called Sergeant for a long time now.” “Okay, Will. My friends call me Allie.” “What can I do for you, Allie?” His tone lost the cautious bent. “If you have the time I have some questions for you.” “Not many people call here nowadays, ‘cept the grandkids sometimes. Shoot with the questions, ma’am, I’ll try to answer’em.” He was probably the gruff kind of grandpa who loved his grandkids dearly but didn’t know how to show it. She liked the man already. “I read somewhere that you were one of the first troops into the concentration camp, Dachau.” She bit her lower lip, afraid he would hang up. “Yes,” he said, the caution creeping back. “You were the Sergeant in the 92nd Signal Battalion?” “Yes.” She took a deep breath and plunged on. “If this is too difficult for you, sir, I’ll understand.”

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whether I talk about it or not. Some images you just don’t ever get out of your head and Dachau is one of’em.” “I’ve seen pictures, sir, and I imagine they don’t come close to what you experienced.” “Name’s Will,” he said gruffly. “Last time I was called ‘sir’ was right before I was discharged.” “Okay, Will. I have a question about a particular man held there. He was separated from the rest of the survivors and I was wondering if you could tell me a little more about him. He was--” “I know who you’re talking about. I don’t know much about’im. Just what a few remaining Nazi guards said. They told us to stay away from him, that he was evil. ‘Course none of us believed’em. If you ask me they were the evil ones.” “What did they say about him?” Another pause. “Strangest story I ever heard.” “What did they say?” she asked again. “Said he wouldn’t die. Said they tried and tried, but the sumbitch, excuse me ma’am, wouldn’t die.” “Did they--” she licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Did they say how they tried to kill him?” “I seen a lot of things during my time in Europe. I seen people die and I seen people with a will to live that was amazin’, so I believed’em when they said he wouldn’t die. Some people are like that, can’t beat’em down no matter what.” “Yes, sir, um, Will.” “But the story those guards told me, that I just couldn’t believe. He must have done somethin’ to scare the bejesus out of them


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though ‘cause they wouldn’t go near him with a ten foot pole.” “How did they try to kill him, sir?” “Said they put’im in the ovens with others and when they opened the doors he walked right outta there.” Allie closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, forcing herself to speak through the tears clogging her throat. “That’s the story I read too. Thank you, Will, for your time. I hope...I hope I didn’t bring back too many bad memories.” “They’re always there. You didn’t bring back nothin’ that wasn’t already there.” Allie hung up and stared into the distance. The other dream, the one she didn’t tell Mikael about, was exactly what she feared. She had dreamt of Mikael walking out of the furnaces of Dachau. Mikael had been in a German concentration camp during World War Two and watched mothers and babies and old men die. She closed her eyes and heard the screams of the dying as the flames licked closer and closer and wondered how Mikael lived with that all these years. Her office door opened and he poked his head through. “We found Christoff. Nickolai and I are leaving to talk to him. I should be back by five. Do not leave this building for any reason until I get back. Do you hear me, Allie?” She looked at him, her mind blank. “Allie? Do you hear me? Do not leave at all until I come get you. Not even with Martha.” “Mikael?” “What?” He looked at her, but it was obvious his mind was far away, probably on the confrontation with Christoff. She stared at him, picturing a man walking out of the furnaces

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of hell. This was not the time to talk about it. “Nothing. Be careful.” His smile was lopsided. “Promise me you won’t leave.” “I promise.” He gave her a warning look as if to tell her there would be hell to pay if she wasn’t here when he returned, then he closed the door. Allie slumped in her chair and stared at the closed door, her thoughts jumbled with Sergeant Warren and her dream. Suddenly the door opened again and Mikael strode through, shaking his head, a grin on his beautiful face. “Forgot something,” he said, walking up to her and lifting her off her chair by her elbows. She dangled a few inches from the ground as Mikael bent his head and kissed her. Desperate to give him some sort of comfort for what he experienced, Allie wound her arms around his neck and buried her hands in the silky feel of his hair, meeting his tongue thrust for thrust. He lowered her feet to the ground and she slid down his body, the hard contours of his muscles, the rigid, erect length of his penis rubbing her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hauled her closer, once more lifting her off the ground. She moaned. He pushed his hips into hers, then pulled up for breath. “Jesus, you do things to me,” he muttered, resting his forehead against hers, his breath heaving. He set her away from him but held her with one hand until she was steady on her feet. Then he gave her a quick peck on the cheek, stepped towards the door and said, “I love you,” before leaving. “I love you, too,” she said to the empty room. * * * In a last ditch effort to forget about the phone conversation


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she’d had with the ex-Army Sergeant, Allie threw herself into her work. It wasn’t hard; she loved what she did and enjoyed the people she worked with. For the first time in weeks she took back Toddler Story Time and curled up on the floor with a book and a toddler nestled in her lap. As always, it was a trying half-hour because most of the kids preferred to play with each other than listen to the book, but she didn’t mind. Reading to the toddlers was a wonderful way to start them on the right track to reading and whether they sat on the floor in rapt attention or crawled around stuffing things in their mouths Allie knew they absorbed at least a little of what she wanted. After Toddler Story Time she met with Martha to come up with the schedule for the next few months, then she started work on the summer reading programs. It was never too early to start planning the incentives and prizes the library gave away to the children for reading books during the summer break. In fact, she was a little behind this year and had Mikael to thank for that. She frowned as a shiver of fear and foreboding snaked up her spine. Was he was okay? Had he gone to Christoff angry, without thinking this through? She glanced at her clock. Soon Mrs. Abrams’s third grade class would be in for a tour of the library and with a sigh Allie stood and made her way to the front of the library to greet them. All twentyfive of them came clomping in with snow on their shoulders and slush on their boots, yelling and giggling and poking each other. She tried to impress upon them that others in the library were attempting to read but only succeeded in bringing the noise level down to a low roar. Biting back a smile she led them into the open area in the children’s section where they sat down in what was supposed to be a

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circle. In the middle of her talk the fire alarm began to shriek, the emergency red lights rotating. Immediately, twenty-five third graders stood as one, panic on some of their little faces. Allie held her hands up. “Children! Calm down, this is just a fire drill. If you could line up--” The sprinkler system kicked on. The children screamed, some started crying. Panic flared inside Allie. This was no drill the fire department forgot to tell her about, this was the real thing. “Line the children up,” she told Mrs. Abrams. The third-grade teacher nodded and began directing her class. Allie grabbed as many coats as she could and led them from the building. She met up with Martha who was ushering the other patrons out. People held newspapers and books over their heads while cold water rained down on them. “Is everyone out?” she yelled above the screaming alarm. Quietly, children filed past her. Martha nodded. “I think so.” Pandemonium broke out with twenty-five scared eight and nine year-olds and the dozen or so regulars trying to fit through the double doors. Over the screeching of the fire alarm and the hiss of the sprinklers she heard the first of the sirens race down the street. She took one last, backward glance at her beloved library. Water stood in puddles, papers were plastered to the desks, and her books, all those wonderful books, some of which she herself had picked out, were ruined. Every last one of them. Martha tugged on her arm. “Come on, Allie, let’s go.” She turned from the sight and hurried down the steps.


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Once outside she tried to help Mrs. Abrams line up the children and count heads, but they wouldn’t stand still long enough. Firemen trooped in and out of the building with their long hoses and fire helmets and axes. She closed her eyes and prayed they didn’t do too much damage to her library. Replacing all the books was going to cost enough without having to replace walls and ceilings too. Hopefully the insurance was enough to cover everything. People began to drift toward the chaos and stand in groups, gaping at the library and the fire trucks lined up out front. The police arrived and began cordoning off the area. Steven Lane strung a big roll of yellow tape, blocking off the entrance. Someone tapped her shoulder and she turned to an EMT dressed in a blue shirt and pants. He had dark brown hair and dark smiling eyes. “Are you Allison Tremont?” She didn’t remember seeing this particular EMT before. Not that she had met them all, but Patience was a small town and being the librarian she pretty much knew everyone. “Yes.” Relief crossed his face. “There’s a person in the ambulance asking for you.” He tipped his head in the direction of the big, red ambulance with the flashing lights that stood apart from the rest of the fire equipment. “He’s pretty shook up and we thought if he just talked to you before we took him away he would calm down.” Who would be asking for her? She tried to remember all the people who had been in the library at the time the alarm went off. Mr. Edwards was the only one she could come up with. His heart was weak, she knew because he told her every chance he got, but she had

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always suspected his heart condition was more in his head than his heart. “Is it Mr. Edwards?” she asked the man walking beside her. “Um, yeah, Mr. Edwards. He’s really shook up.” “Poor man.” She reached the ambulance and peered into the dark interior. “Shouldn’t the lights be on? Shouldn’t someone be with him?” Alarm bells went off in her head. Mikael’s words rang in her memory. Promise me you won’t leave.


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Chapter 21 She turned to run but the friendly EMT, who wasn’t looking very friendly anymore, grabbed her arm and in a vicious tug pulled her up against him and pushed her into the ambulance. Allie stumbled and fell against the gurney, banging her shin. The doors shut, engulfing her in darkness. The driver’s door closed with a thud. The engine started up. She lurched to her feet banged on the back doors. “Help me!” The driver turned on the siren, drowning out her calls. Bracing herself by planting one hand along the side of the ambulance, she stood and felt her way around the interior. She found the light switch and flipped it on, blinking in the bright light. “Hey,” the driver yelled. “Turn that off.” She ignored him, pulling open drawers and looking in cubbyholes. She had to hand it to Christoff, it was a good scam. Cause as much pandemonium and chaos as possible, then grab her and whisk her away under everyone’s nose. When the fire alarms had gone off it never even crossed her mind that it could be a set up to get her outside. Even when the EMT

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approached her she thought nothing of the Tremont Gypsy man. What a fool. She stood straight and planted her hands on her hips, swaying with the movement of the vehicle. The ambulance had been stripped clean. She plopped down on the gurney and rested her chin in her hands. If Christoff Tremont thought she would go quietly into the night he had another thing coming. No way would she go down without a fight. She shivered. Unfortunately, she’d left her purse and coat in the library. Both were probably soaked. Anger boiled inside her at the mess Christoff Tremont created. Years of hard work and dedication was ruined. To what extent? What did he want with her? His feud was with the Giovanni’s. Unless he wanted her to lure Mikael to him. The corners of her mouth turned down. There was no need for Christoff to lure Mikael to him because Mikael should be with him right now. Then why had Christoff taken her? Did he really plan on killing her? She shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold. * * * Mikael stomped up the library steps, his head bent against the wind and his own private torments swirling in his mind. He hadn’t found Christoff. When he and Nickolai had reached the Tremont camp it had been empty. A quick check of the area and some well placed questions revealed that the Gypsy tribe had been there but had packed up and left that morning, leaving no forwarding address. Of course. Mikael didn’t understand it. Christoff knew Mikael was


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looking for him, had made no attempt to hide from him and had, according to the message Mikael received, welcomed a confrontation with him. So why the sudden change of heart? Why leave now? An inquiry at the police station in the town the Tremonts had been staying told Mikael the Gypsy tribe wasn’t wanted by the police— -the usual reason they would pack up and leave so suddenly. Mikael opened the door to the library and glanced at his watch. He was late, it had taken a long time to ask his questions and try to determine where his enemy had gone and it had taken longer to get back to Patience with the new snowfall. Maine sure got a lot of snow. It almost made him want to pack up and head for warmer climates and take Allie with him. One step into the library and his foot squished in something wet. He glanced down at the soaked carpet. Puddles of water stood everywhere, books dripped, papers were water logged and in the middle of it all stood Martha, looking like a lost puppy with her siren red pants and neon orange shirt. “What the hell happened here?” “Fire,” she said without looking at him. “Fire?” He walked farther into the building, his feet making squishy sounds in the water logged carpet. Poor Allie, her beloved library was ruined. Allie. “Where’s Allie?” Martha looked around, a stunned look on her face. “Martha? Where’s Allie?” “I don’t know.” Panic gripped his stomach. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

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Sharon Cullen “She was here during the fire alarm and then she disappeared.” His jaw clenched in frustration. “What time was that?” “About three.” He looked at his watch again. It was almost six. Allie had

been gone three hours. “Where was the fire?” He looked for signs of fire but saw only water. Martha shook her head, tears in her eyes. “That’s the funny thing. There was no fire. The fire chief doesn’t know why the sprinkler system or the alarms went off.” Mikael knew. Someone had held a match to one of the sprinkler heads, probably in the bathroom, and that someone more than likely was a member of the Tremont clan. He strode into Allie’s office to find anything that would tell him where she had been taken. He found her coat and purse, both soaked. “Where was the last place you saw her?” “I saw her walking towards an ambulance, talking to an EMT.” Martha shook her wet curls. “Things were crazy; people were running around, there was a class of children... I don’t remember seeing her after that. It’s not like her to abandon her library, especially if she knew it was ruined. She’d be here right now, planning ways to get it back to together. I don’t understand...” * * * A calm detachment overtook Mikael. He met up with Nickolai at the bottom of the library steps. “They have her.” Nickolai fell into step beside him. “What happened?” He told Nickolai about the fire alarm and Allie’s disappearance. “Do you think she got sick? Maybe the ambulance was for


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her, to take her to the hospital.” “That’s what you’re going to find out. Call the hospitals; see if she’s registered at any of them. I’m going to her apartment to get warm clothes for her.” He ignored Nick’s look, the look that said he was doubtful she would need the warm clothes. His cousin didn’t think they’d find her, but they would. Mikael would find Christoff and Allie, then he’d kill the Tremont ataman for endangering Allie. He grabbed the clothes while Nick made the calls. As he was passing through the kitchen his gaze landed on all the medication lined up on the windowsill and his gut clenched. What would happen if she didn’t take her medication? How long could she go with out it? Did she have her inhaler with her? He reached for her purse and dumped the soggy contents out. The blue inhaler rolled off the table and onto the floor. The breath whooshed out of him. The panic he had so far managed to hold at bay clawed its way out. What if she couldn’t breathe like that morning he had found her on the kitchen floor? He swooped the inhaler up, cold fury replacing the panic. “Come on,” he said to Nickolai as he walked out of the apartment. “No one by the name of Allison Tremont is registered at any of the hospitals,” Nick said as he climbed in the driver seat of the car and started the engine. Mikael stared out the window at the cold, windy night. Where are you Allie? Where did he take you? * * * Allie faced her captor with more courage than she felt. She

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was scared spitless, had been ever since she realized she might be in real danger. But she was damned if she would show this man her fear. She looked him up and down. He had dark skin, like most Gypsies, with black hair going gray at the temples and black eyes hard as granite, holding no warmth. She hiked mountains and sometimes even jogged when her health allowed, but she was no fighter and Christoff Tremont was what she thought of as a street fighter. No rules, no holds barred, giving no quarter and expecting none in return. In short he was one bad dude and she just happened to be the lucky one he captured. A gold tooth flashed in his smile and three gold earrings lined each lobe. She stopped herself from shivering, instead crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes on him. “I demand to know why you brought me here. You ruined my library, you know.” And that enraged her. All that hard work, all those hours raising money to buy the books the library needed. All gone. All ruined because of this man and his stupid feud. Behind her the ambulance driver snickered. She turned to glare at him then turned back to Christoff. She had a feeling one didn’t turn one’s back on him and live to tell about it. Earlier there had been a woman. Anna, the fortune teller, the one who had read Allie’s cards, but she had disappeared about an hour ago. Allie looked around the small camp for her, hoping Anna had returned because Allie sensed in the girl an ally and she desperately needed an ally right now. “If I’m going to die I want to know why.” His gold tooth glimmered in a smile. “Who said you were going to die?” “No one. I was testing you.”


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He threw his head back and laughed. “You have spirit, little rani. No wonder King Mikael likes you.” “He’s not the king anymore. He doesn’t want anything to do with that.” He sobered. “Some things you can not deny.” “Am I here because of some family feud?” “I see he’s revealed much.” Christoff sighed when she didn’t respond. “There is a quarrel between our families, yes.” “Over what?” His black eyes sparkled. “He didn’t tell you?” She uncrossed her arms and threw them out to the side. “He doesn’t know. It was over two hundred years ago. Get over it. Turn the page.” His eyes grew hard and Allie’s fear leaped. “A feud is a feud.” “For all you know it could be over something as stupid as a stolen pig.” She would not die because of a pig. “If my ancestors thought it serious enough to fight over then I think it serious enough to fight over.” “Why me? What do I have to do with it?” “You are a Tremont.” She leaned closer to him, her anger overriding any fear she might have had. “I am not a member of your family. I would never terrorize a person into thinking she was going insane. I would never slash someone’s tire to make her walk miles to town. I would never push someone down steps or trash her apartment. My name may be Tremont, but I am not of any branch of your family tree.” “Dosta!” His body tensed and his face contorted in anger. She knew enough Romany to know that meant ‘enough’ and

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closed her mouth before she dug any more deep holes for them to bury her body in. Christoff turned to the ambulance driver and barked out orders in Romany. The man, Allie gathered his name was Peter, grabbed her by the elbow and propelled her into a cabin a few yards away. She looked around, trying to get a sense of where she was before they shoved her inside. A thick strand of trees surrounded them, making the dark seem darker. The Tremont tribe at the moment consisted of Christoff, Peter and a few other swarthy, mean looking men. A few Cadillacs and Lincolns were parked here and there. Instead of searching the ambulance for weapons she should have been looking out the window and memorizing street signs. Peter shoved her into the one room cabin causing her to stumble. A three legged table that listed to the side stood in the center. “Wait here.” Peter’s black eyes roamed her body, glittering with something she refused to think about. He wasn’t even nice enough to start a fire before leaving. Allie sank to the cold floor, closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. Did Mikael know she was gone and if so what was he thinking? If he knew Christoff had taken her he would turn the world upside down to find her. And how long would that take? * * * Mikael sat in the passenger seat with Allie’s inhaler clutched in his hand. It had been four hours since Allie disappeared. Christoff could cover a lot of ground in four hours. Allie could be anywhere, but would find her. They pulled up to the front doors of his home and he jumped out. Nickolai grabbed his arm and tilted his head. A small form sat


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huddled on his doorstep and his heart leapt in hope. But the woman was too dark, her hair too long for her to be Allie. She raised her head and Mikael recognized the drabarni from the carnival. She stood and eyed Mikael, poised to run. He walked towards her, keeping his gate slow and even not wanting to frighten her off, even though he wanted to grab her and shake her. “Devlesa araklam tume,” she said. It was the traditional Rom greeting and meant: It is with God that I found you. Mikael responded in the traditional way. “Devlesa avilan.” It is God who brought you. She smiled. “Those words ring very true tonight.” “Where’s Allie?” Nickolai stood behind him, ready to spring into action if this should be a set up and others waited in the shadows. Mikael’s eyes darted to those shadows, just like he knew Nickolai’s were. “She is with my kako,” she paused and he could see her searching her mind for the right English word. “Your uncle?” She smiled and nodded. “Yes.” “Is Christoff Tremont your uncle?” She nodded again. “Where did your uncle take Allie?” “They’re in the woods, a ways away. He told me to go back to where the women were and stay there, but I couldn’t do that. I like your Allie; she’s a nice person and my uncle...” Her eyes darted around and Mikael tensed, waiting for someone to jump out at him. He could feel Nickolai move to his left to cover his weak side. “He used to be a nice man,” she continued. “Until he came

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here and saw you. Then he became obsessed with the past and with amiryas. He’s a different man now.” “Do you think he’ll hurt Allie?” Her lips pursed as if she were offended. “I don’t know.” “You must take me to her. She’s sick and needs her medication.” Anna nodded. Mikael turned to Nickolai. “There are some things I need to get inside. Stay here with her.” He disappeared into the house while Nickolai and the drabarni remained out front. Emerging a few minutes later he opened the back door of the car for Anna, then climbed into the passenger seat while Nick started the engine. “How far away are they?” “A few hours.” He hoped and prayed they would make it in time.


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Chapter 22 Allie shivered from the cold. Being on the floor didn’t help. She had found an old tattered blanket someone had abandoned, and wrapped up in it, trying not to think of the animals that had used it for a nest. Where was Mikael? She thought a lot about his marriage proposal and called herself every kind of fool. Who was she to turn down that kind of happiness? She thought about William Warren and the things he had said about the mystery prisoner in the concentration camp. She even thought about the things that Sergeant Warren hadn’t said, things that were too horrendous for him to voice out loud. She thought about her mother and sister and her ruined library and by the time she was finished thinking she had worked herself into a funk. The door of the cabin opened and Christoff walked in on a gust of cold wind. She pulled the blanket tighter and shivered. Christoff hunkered down on his heels in front of her. “Hungry?” He held out a big bowl of stew that smelled wonderful. Her stomach grumbled, but she didn’t reach for the food. “You take a bite

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first.” His eyes twinkled with laughter, but she didn’t care. Better safe than dead was her motto. He took a big, slurpy drink not bothering to use a spoon. She looked at the bowl with disgust. No way would she drink after this man. Her stomach grumbled again. She grabbed the bowl and the spoon and began eating. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “At least not now. If I were to kill you I’d wait until your man showed up and do it in front of him.” The stew that had tasted fantastic a moment ago now felt like a lead ball in her stomach. She placed the half eaten bowl on the floor and pulled the blanket around her. “Why would you do that?” “To get back at him.” “For what?” He shrugged. She rolled her eyes. “He’ll never let you live if you kill me.” Christoff shrugged again. “You can’t kill him you know.” She leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. The shuffle of Christoff’s feet told her he’d walked away. The door clicked behind him. I’m not going to kill you. At least not now. So, was he going to kill her later? * * * Guilt followed Mikael through the cold, dark night. Guilt for being in a nice warm car when Allie may be somewhere in the woods, cold and scared. Guilt for storming into her life and turning it upside down and inside out. She was right. He should walk away after this was over. Who was he to insist he had a right to stay by her side when


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she didn’t want him anyway? I’m her lover, damn it and I’m in love with her. That’s what gives me the right. He sighed and opened his eyes, rolling his head to look out the passenger side window. “We’ll find her,” Nickolai said. His cousin had been beside him for every battle he had ever fought, but this time was different. This battle he would have to fight alone. “Turn left there,” Anna said from the back seat. Nick turned and the forest swallowed them up. They were on little more than a wide path, big enough to fit the car through, but by no means could it be considered a road. He never would have found Allie on his own. Not in time. Who says we’re going to be in time now? * * * Shouts from outside woke Allie. She uncurled her legs and stood, so stiff from the cold she could hardly move. She hobbled to the window to look out. Two orange glows made their way to the cabin and the Tremont encampment. Hope surged through her. Was it Mikael? She glanced around the small Gypsy encampment, taking in Christoff’s men. If that car quickly approaching was Mikael then he and Nickolai were badly outnumbered. Mikael’s silver Mercedes glided into view, the car stopped and both doors opened. As a team Mikael and Nickolai stepped out. She had never in her life been so glad and afraid to see someone. Allie’s heart beat double time as she walked to the cabin door and opened it, stepping out into the cold wind and the silence among the men.

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Sharon Cullen Mikael’s gaze flickered to her, then back to Christoff. “Are

you okay?” “Yes.” Slowly, without attempting to attract too much attention, she scooted around the Tremont men and closer to Mikael. When she got as close as she dared she stopped, mesmerized like everyone else. Mikael stood so still she couldn’t even see him breathe. His hands hung at his sides, his fingers relaxed. Christoff was in almost the same position. Both men rested their weight on the balls of their feet. The tension in the little clearing weighed down on everyone. Christoff moved with the grace of a cat, pouncing and throwing his weight on Mikael, toppling the younger man to the ground. If Allie had enough spit in her mouth she would have screamed. Mikael and Christoff scrambled to their feet, knives clutched in their hands, and circled each other. Christoff lashed out, but Mikael scooted to the side. His foot swung out, landing on Christoff’s wrist, sending the man’s knife flying. Now only Mikael was armed and he smiled a cold, calculating smile that made her shiver. Christoff backed up. Mikael’s weapon glinted in the headlights of the car. Jewels shimmered and Allie gasped. Serena’s dagger. The dagger in her dreams. The dagger that dripped blood. Her own blood ran cold in her veins. No! Christoff chuckled. “I’ve been waiting for you, Kralis.” He spat the word Kralis like it was poison in his mouth. “I gave up being king a long time ago. It’s just Mikael now.”


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Christoff shook his head. “I knew if I got the girl you would soon follow.” So she had been used as a lure to get Mikael here. “We had a meeting set up earlier today,” Mikael said, turning to keep him in his sight. “There was no need to involve Allie.” “There was every need to involve Allison. She is a Tremont and as such is my responsibility.” Mikael took a step to the side. “She is no more a member of your clan than I. Let her go.” “I will never let her go. She is my responsibility and she will not fall prey to a Giovanni. I will not allow it.” “Why drag me here and tell me? Why not just take her?” Mikael glanced at Allie and their eyes locked for a moment before he pulled them back to Christoff. “I thought about it,” Christoff said as he continued to move around. “But I couldn’t resist letting you watch me take her.” “She’s not a piece of property.” “She is my responsibility. You will be happy to know I have found her a good, fine husband who will take care of her and teach her the ways of the Rom.” Allie gasped and Mikael paled. “Selling your women is not done anymore,” he said, his gaze once again finding Allie, then sliding away. Christoff chuckled again. “It is. I received a good price for her even though it will take some time before she is able to earn her keep for her new family.” Earn her keep? He sold her? What did she have to be trained in? She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

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Surely they weren’t talking about selling her in marriage. “I won’t let you take her, Christoff.” Christoff laughed, a great booming laugh that reverberated off the trees. “You’re probably right. I have no doubt you will hunt her down and find her.” The old man shrugged. “No matter. I’ll just kill her then. Here. And let you watch her die.” Christoff lunged for his knife lying on the ground. Mikael cocked his hand back and let the jeweled dagger fly. Changing course in mid-lunge Christoff grabbed for Allie, shoving her in the path of the dagger. She heard Mikael yell, felt Christoff’s hands on her, propelling her forward right before the dagger cut through her clothes tearing through bone and muscle and lodging in her chest. Pain exploded inside her. Pain like she’d never felt before, stealing her breath, buckling her knees. She fell. Her vision faded. * * * Mikael caught her before she landed and sank to the ground with her in his arms. Pain and confusion clouded those emerald green eyes. The dagger stuck out of her, grotesque and ugly. She clawed at the weapon and he grabbed her hands, pinning them to his chest. “No. No, Allie, leave it in.” “Get it out,” she rasped. “Get it out, Mikael.” He held her hands and rocked her. “It will cause more damage if I take it out. Leave it in.” He looked down at her pale face. Her body started trembling, then shivering as shock began to set in. Mikael closed his eyes and rocked Allie tightening his hold on her hands when she tried to break his grip, but her motions were pitifully weak. “Shhh, Allie. Trust me. Leave it in. I promise everything will be all right. You’re fine.”


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* * * She stopped struggling and looked at him. You’re fine? Could he not see that a knife stuck out of her chest? Was he blind? “It hurts.” It hurt to breathe and it hurt to talk. She licked her dry lips and tried to snuggle closer to Mikael’s body, drawing his warmth into her. Except it wasn’t working. She was colder than ever and it was a bone chilling cold, one she feared she would never warm to. She had been in pain before, many times, but it had been nothing like this. “I know, honey. But we’ll get help, then everything will be okay.” Her head was cradled in his arm, both her hands clenched inside one of his big ones. Her shivers sent waves of pain through her. Her eyes drifted closed. “Stay with me, Allie.” He clutched her tighter. “Don’t go to sleep, ves’tacha. Stay awake.” With some effort she pulled her eyes open, but only because his voice sounded funny, thick, like he had marbles in his mouth. She tried to focus on his eyes, those crystal blue eyes that she loved so much. “So tired.” “I know, honey, but it’s important for you to stay awake.” Nickolai ran up and she her eyes drifted shut again, floating on waves of pain. “I’m not getting through to 9-1-1. The signal’s too weak.” Her eyes flew open in time to see Mikael fix Nickolai with a cold stare. She had seen that look before and never wanted to be on the receiving end of it. “Help her,” he hissed. Nick glanced down at Allie, they locked eyes for a moment before he looked back at Mikael. A silent

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message passed between them that Allie read as easily as if it were printed across their foreheads—-she wasn’t going to make it, there was no more help for her. She should have married him when she had the chance. She had denied herself the one thing she had always dreamed of—-a husband who loved her with all his heart. How ironic that she had fought her feelings for him because she didn’t want him to watch her die and here she was, dying in his arms. Of course she never imagined in a million years she would die of a knife wound in her chest either. “Mikael?” He looked down at her. “What, Allie? Tell me what you need.” “Tell me...about Marimay.” He hitched her up a little on his arm and she gasped in pain. His eyes got a faraway look to them. “It’s beautiful. I’ll take you there soon. You’ll love it. It’s built on hundreds of acres of forest and in the spring the deer wander in so close you can almost walk up and touch them. I have horses and I’ll teach you to ride and there are plenty of places to hike. You’ll love it, I promise...” He cleared his throat. “I built it with you in mind. Of course, at the time I didn’t realize it because you hadn’t even been born yet and wouldn’t be for a long, long time. But I see now that I had it built for you. It’s your home and as soon as we get out of here we’ll go there.” She closed her eyes and smiled, trying to picture this wonderful house in the woods that Mikael built for her. “Sounds...wonderful.” She gasped for breath, the pain unbearable. She felt the stickiness of her blood as it soaked through her clothes.


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He bent his head close to hers and his tears fell on her face. “Don’t die on me, Allie. Please.” With monumental effort she disengaged one of her hands from his and reached with trembling fingers for his cheek. She left streaks of blood where her hand met his face, but the feel of his skin next to hers was worth it. “Better...this way.” “No,” it came out as an anguished groan. “Don’t say that. It’s not better this way. I need you with me.” She shook her head, the movement costing her, and grimaced in pain. “So sorry...never said...love you.” The darkness closed in, already her peripheral vision was gone and what vision she had left turned gray. Soon she wouldn’t be able to see him at all. He pulled her closer to his chest and buried his face in her hair, rocking her back and forth as she caressed his cheek with a bloody finger, the dagger still sticking out of her. “I love you, Allie.” Warmth started from the tip of her toes, overtaking her. She stopped shivering and the pain eased. “Thank you for the blanket.” Her voice was stronger and her breathing easier, giving her a false sense of hope. “I’m much warmer now.” Mikael looked around, his brows wrinkled in confusion and Allie knew. There was no blanket. The blanket she had been holding lay on the ground several feet away. His eyes rested on it, then come back to her, filled with pain and grief. “Good,” he said. “I’m glad you’re warm now.”

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Sharon Cullen Her finger trailed from his cheek up his temple. “Remember

me?” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Always,” he whispered. “Forever.” * * * Nickolai crouched down and placed a finger on Allie’s neck, searching for a pulse. “Anna took the car and is going for help,” he said. She had endured so much pain in her short life. He should be happy it was finally over. Please, God, just a little longer. More time, that’s all I’m asking. Give us more time to love each other. Nickolai stood and Mikael reached out, snagging his wrist, leaving a trail of Allie’s blood on his cousin’s arm. Nickolai turned to him with tears in his eyes. “Do something.”


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Chapter 23 She felt Mikael’s arm under her head, felt his hand holding hers, she even felt his heartbeat under her hand. But what she felt most of all were his tears raining down on her face. Warm and soothing, they reminded her of the times she had gone outside during a warm summer rain and turned her face up to the heavens letting the rain wash away her worries. Mikael’s tears had done what the rain had so long ago. There were no more worries. She was dying, had selfishly hoped for more time and had in fact been given less than she thought. Regret burned a path through her. Regret that she and Mikael never married, would never get the opportunity to marry or spend more time together. She heard Mikael and Nickolai talking to each other, heard the desperation and fear and grief in Mikael’s voice and wished she could put a stop to it all. With the last of her strength she opened her eyes for the last time and stared at the crystal eyes of the man she loved with every molecule of her body. They were such beautiful eyes, allowing her into the soul of a man who had lived hundreds of years. She liked

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to think she had given him some joy these past few weeks. He had come to her a sad, beaten man and she hoped she left him happier. She didn’t want him thinking life was a bad thing. She tried to touch his cheek, aching to feel the warmth of him, the stubble of his beard, but her arm didn’t obey her mind’s commands. “Love you...” Every word was an effort and cost her energy she no longer had, but there was so much more she wanted to say and time was running out. His eyes clouded and tears formed, sparkling like diamonds. “Be happy.” He shook his head. “Not without you. I’m nothing without you.” She tried to shake her head, but it took too much effort. “Life...is good.” He smiled and her heart sang to see one last smile of his. “Like Velcro?” Despite what it cost her, she smiled too. “Like...Velcro. Promise me...be happy.” His smile wavered, then died. “I love you.” Nickolai said something in Romany. The words were beautiful - half chant, half song. She closed her eyes and listened to it as she drifted off and away from Mikael. She couldn’t feel him holding her anymore and when she opened her eyes the woods and Mikael were gone. “Allison?” She turned to the familiar voice and caught her breath at the rolling hills, the birds flying overhead, a lake with the most beautiful swans she had ever seen. Off to the left rose a magnificent mansion


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that reminded her of the English home Mikael had described to her. A warm breeze blew her hair into her face and she pushed it away, looking at everything, trying to take it all in. Two people stood by the lake, a dog barked in the distance and she searched for it, finding it by the shore. A girl laughed and bounded around with the dog while a woman broke away from the girl and walked towards Allie. “Mom?” Her mother opened her arms and Allie ran into them. “Mom.” “Welcome, Allison. We’ve been waiting for you.” “We?” Her mother pulled away and indicated the girl and dog. “Amy and Shadow.” Amy, her sister, and their old Labrador who had died years before. Tears clouded Allie’s eyes. Her family was together again, healthy and alive. She turned to her mother and studied her. She looked younger and more care free, less worried. She looked happy. Amy came running up to them, Shadow hot on her heels, barking, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. She ran right to Allie and shoved her big yellow head under Allie’s hand. Allie bent and gave the dog a good scratching just asAmy threw herself into Allie’s arms and hugged her with all the enthusiasm of a fifteen-yearold. She too looked more carefree, less worried and happier. Healthy. Arm in arm the three of them walked to the edge of the water where a blanket was laid out with food. Shadow plopped down in the grass and rolled over, her feet in the air, and rubbed her back on the grass, making little grunting noises as she twisted and turned. Allie, Amy, and their mother sat down with their legs stretched out in front of them. She had so many questions but for the moment was content to

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just sit and be with her family. Her sister had been gone for ten years, her mother for two and Allie only now realized how desperately she had missed them. Amy jumped up and ran to the edge of the lake where she stood and watched a swan drift by. Allie watched her, remembering a different Amy. An Amy who couldn’t walk more than five feet without stopping to catch her breath. An Amy who never ran anywhere. Allie looked out over the placid water and the swans swimming by with their babies following in a line and thought of Mikael. Her heart clenched and sorrow filled her. She loved her mother and sister, but it had been so long since they had died and she had gone on with her life. She wanted Mikael and the love they shared and the life they could have made if Christoff hadn’t put her in the path of the dagger. Her mother must have sensed her shift in mood because she patted Allie’s hand. “I liked him.” Allie looked at her in surprise. “Who? Mikael?” Her mother nodded. “Yeah,” she turned back to the lake that was losing its beauty now that Mikael wasn’t here to enjoy it with her. “I liked him too.” Her mother arched one perfect auburn eyebrow at her. “Like? Or love?” Allie sighed, then smiled. “Love. I love him. Loved him.” Her mother studied her. “Things don’t always turn out the way we want them to, do they?” “You can say that again.” Together they looked out over the water. Amy threw a stick and the dog ran after it, full tilt. “How did you want it to turn out,


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Allie?” “I wanted more time with him. We were just beginning, there wasn’t enough time.” “How much time?” “All of it,” she whispered. * * * The pain was back but not as bad, not as intense. Allie struggled to open her eyes, then gave up. She rested for a moment and tried again. She succeeded this time but the light was too bright and she slammed them closed. “Mom?” She wanted her mother, but her mother had been dead for two years. She frowned. No, her mother was alive, she’d been talking to her not more than ten minutes ago. And Amy. Amy had been there with their dog and there had been swans and a lake and a warm summer breeze. No pain. She distinctly remembered there had been no pain. There was pain now. She opened her eyes wider. Someone had turned the light off because it wasn’t as bright as before. “Mom?” She turned her head to the side and encountered a white wall. Where was she and where was her mother? A face loomed in front of her and she drew back in surprise. “Welcome back, Allie. Glad to see you’re awake.” Dr. Douglas looked into her eyes with that light thingy she hated so much, then grabbed her wrist to take her pulse. “There’s someone here who’s been waiting for you to wake up.” Had she had another attack? No, that didn’t seem right. She concentrated hard, closing her eyes and thinking beyond the lake and

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her mother and sister and dog. It was there, at the edge of her conscious, but for some reason outside her grasp. “You were stabbed,” the doctor said. Christoff and the ambulance and the library. Mikael throwing the dagger at her. No, not at her. At Christoff. And Christoff pulling her into the path of the dagger. The pain, that she remembered well. Figures, the one thing she didn’t want to remember. Mikael holding her, crying, asking her begging her - not to die. And then she had died. And she had gone to heaven, or what she assumed was heaven because her mother and sister were there waiting for her and they talked about Mikael and her mother asked her how much more time she needed and she had said-“Allie?” Her eyes flew open and she looked into the crystal blue depths she had been so sure she would never see again. “Mikael.” Relief flooded those eyes as tears filled them and threatened to spill over, but he wiped the tears away and smiled. “Welcome back.” “Everyone keeps saying that but no one says where I’ve been.” “Why don’t you tell me?” He raised the head of her bed giving her a better view of her surroundings. She sighed in resignation. God, she hated hospitals. She reached up and rubbed the place on her chest where the dagger had cut through her. She expected to find a lot of stitches, but there wasn’t anything there except a scratch. She looked at Mikael who eyed her with a little bit of concern and a lot of nervousness. “I thought I had died.” Only to Mikael could she admit that. “What happened?” Did she really want to know? No, not really. The


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last thing she had heard before meeting her mother and sister was Nickolai chanting and singing in that beautiful language. No, she really didn’t want to know what had happened. And Mikael didn’t look like he wanted to tell her either. “Just a scratch,” he said, indicating her chest where she knew without a doubt a dagger had been buried to the hilt. That would cause a hell of a lot more than a scratch. “The doctor said you could go home later today.” “How long have I been here?” “Since last night.” He shifted in his chair, his gaze darting everywhere but at her. What was he hiding? “You wouldn’t wake up.” Because she had been spending time with her mother and sister, her very dead mother and sister. She closed her eyes, so exhausted she couldn’t take anymore. She must have dozed or slept because when she woke up Mikael was still there, but the room was darker, night starting to fall. “That was no scratch.” She picked up the conversation where they had left off as if minutes had passed instead of hours. “That dagger was buried in me.” Mikael looked resigned to the fact she wasn’t giving up on this. His hair was mussed as if he had been running his hands through it. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in three days and his eyes were red rimmed. She remembered the anguish in his voice when he begged her not to die, remembered lying in his arms and feeling his tears on her face, and she felt sorry for him. “I probably don’t want to know, but what did Nickolai do to me out there in the woods?”

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Sharon Cullen His eyes met hers, then slid away to study his boots. He

looked up at the ceiling and puffed his cheeks out with air, held it and slowly let it out. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her. “Remember when I said that if it was in my power to give you more time I would?” She nodded. “Well, I did. Or Nickolai did, at my request.” “Which means?” “You’ve been cursed to live forever.” She stared at him. He stared back, unblinking. He wasn’t kidding. This was no joke. She wanted to laugh and cry. The idea was so bizarre, so out there, so totally against everything she had ever believed, that she could only lie in her hospital bed and stare at him. “What?” “I made Nickolai curse you like I’ve been cursed.” He looked away. “Except maybe I shouldn’t call it a curse. Nick certainly doesn’t think of it as a curse.” “Don’t you think you should have asked me first?” She was furious. She was beyond furious. She was...she was...she didn’t know what she was. She could barely think. Mikael shifted in his chair. “Well, you see, that’s the problem. You weren’t there to ask. You had passed out and I knew time was running out...” His eyes darkened with misery and his voice fell. “If we didn’t do something soon I was going to lose you and losing you, Allie, was out of the question.” She blinked. “You were lying in my arms and your life was slipping out of you and all I could think was that you were the best damn thing that’s


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happened to me in almost two-hundred and forty years and there was no way I was going to let you go. With you by my side for the rest of eternity I may just make it without going insane...” His voice trailed away. “Don’t you think I should have had a say in this?” She couldn’t comprehend the significance of what Mikael said. All her life she’d lived with the knowledge that someday she would die. “Allie, I told you--” “You certainly thought you should have had a say when your grandfather cursed you. Don’t you think I would have thought the same thing?” She scooted up in the bed. “You did to me the exact same thing your grandfather did to you. You thought you were helping, he thought he was helping, but in reality you two were only thinking of yourselves.” She crossed her arms over her chest, over her scratch, and refused to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him open his mouth then close it. He ran a hand through his hair in that way she loved so much, then slumped in his chair, misery in every line of his body. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it that way.” “No, you didn’t think at all.” She looked at the white wall. He sighed. “You’re right, of course. I didn’t think at all. I just assumed you would want to spend the rest of eternity with me, like I do with you. Apparently I was wrong.” Her heart lurched and she uncrossed her arms. No, he wasn’t wrong. He stood and walked to the door where he paused. She held her breath, hoping he would turn around and come back, but he stepped through and disappeared, leaving her more alone than she thought was possible in a busy hospital.

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Sharon Cullen Dr. Douglas walked in. “I don’t understand it,” he said,

plopping down in the chair that Mikael had vacated. “What don’t you understand?” He held up a set of x-rays. Allie had seen enough of them in her time to know what they were and her heart clenched. Bad news. Damn, how she hated hospitals. “Give it to me straight.” “Your lungs.” * * * Mikael walked out of the hospital and stood just outside the doors. He let his head fall back and stared at the dark sky and the thousands of stars above. His breath condensed and sent little puffs into the air. He buried his hands in his coat pocket and smiled a smile that reached from ear to ear. What he really wanted to do was jump up and yell. She was alive. She was alive. And she was madder than hell. But he didn’t care. He would take alive and mad over dead any day of the week. An eternity of Allie walking the Earth angry at him was infinitely better than an eternity without her. He laughed out loud, his joy too great to be held in. “Do something,” he had said to his cousin as he hung on to Allie, her blood running over his legs. Nickolai’s eyes had locked with his and an entire conversation took place in that look. “Do you know what you’re saying?” Nickolai seemed to ask. Mikael had nodded. “Do it,” he had whispered. And Nickolai had started the chant that would allow Allie to


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live forever. Mikael had thought they were too late, had felt the life draining out of her as her blood pumped onto his jeans. All that blood, Allie’s blood, had scared the hell out of him. He had been in wars and battles, behind enemy lines on secret missions, and not one of those times had he been as scared as he when he held Allie’s lifeless body. He felt her take her last breath and waited an eternity before she drug in another one. When she began to breathe normally, he had handed her over to Nickolai, crawled several yards away on his hands and knees, and threw up. He was still gagging when Anna found him and put her arms around him. He sobbed, his head bent into her shoulder, until the well of tears had run dry. Only then did he crawl back to Allie and take her from Nickolai. Nickolai had removed the dagger from her chest and already the wound was healing. By the time the ambulance arrived nothing but a scratch indicated what had taken place that night. * * * Her stomach clenched. The last time she and Dr. Douglas sat down to have a heart to heart he had told her it wouldn’t be long before she had to be put on the lung transplant list. “What about my lungs?” “They’re clear,” he said, looking a little shell-shocked. “Absolutely clear, like you never had cystic fibrosis.” Allie stared at her doctor. Like you never had cystic fibrosis. You’ve been cursed to live forever. Oh, dear God, it was true. She was healthy. For the first time ever she was healthy. No more coughing, no more treatments, no more medication. She took a deep breath and almost passed out at the clear

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oxygen that invaded her system. She never knew her lungs could hold so much air. She let the air out and felt a little dizzy. A whole lifetime, a whole eternity, without being sick. Okay, maybe the occasional cold here and there, but even that was wonderful. She had never had a cold without it turning into pneumonia. Imagine, no more hospital stays, no more antibiotics. Imagine. And she did, for the next several minutes she imagined what it was to be normal. She was normal. She wanted to get up and dance the jig. She wanted to rip off the offending hospital gown and pull on her own clothes and never step into another emergency room as long as she lived. She paused, then smiled a wide, radiant smile. That was going to be a long time. I wanted more time with him. We were just beginning, you know? There wasn’t enough time. How much time? All of it. And with her mother’s help, along with Nickolai, she got just what she asked for—-all of it. Forever. You were lying in my arms and your life was slipping out of you and all I could think was that you were the best damn thing that’s happened to me in almost two-hundred and forty years and there was no way I was going to let you go. She closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillow. Oh, God, what an idiot she was. Sure he was thinking of himself. For the first time in forever he was happy, he had found someone to share his nightmare with and he snatched at his chance and she had called him selfish. Tell me Allie, would you want to live forever?


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I’d want more time than I’ve been given. What if it was all or nothing? Then I’d take all. And that’s just what he had given her. All. Everything. Eternity with him. Forever. She smiled, imagining her love for Mikael expanding and growing by the day, stretching into infinity. Forever. When she opened her eyes, he stood in the doorway, looking a little uncertain, a little wary and some scared. Her smile grew wider and she held her arms out to him. With a groan of relief he walked into the room and her waiting arms and gathered her close to him. “I couldn’t leave you,” he said. “Even if you were furious with me, I couldn’t leave you here alone. I’m sorry for doing this to you, I should have asked.” She pulled away from him. “Heaven would have been hell without you, Mikael Butler.” She smoothed his black hair from his face and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “I love you and I’m thankful you had the courage to do what you did. I’m sorry for what I said.” He smiled. “No need to apologize. I understand the fear you felt when I said you were going to live forever.” She sighed and Mikael climbed up on the bed beside her and pulled her to his side. “Forever. What are we going to do with it?” He laughed and planted a kiss in her hair. “Live it,” he said, “experience it, enjoy it. All the things I never wanted to do until you came into my life.” Live it, experience it, enjoy it, and that’s exactly what Mikael and Allie did. And what they’re still doing today.

A Forever Kind of Thing

A Forever Kind of Hero

A Forever Kind of Guy

A Forever Kind of Guy

A Forever Kind of Guy

A Forever Kind of Hero

No Such Thing as Forever

No Such Thing as Forever

Memory of a Thing

Kind of Madness, A

a kind of magic

A kind of murder

A Kind of Murder

Three of a Kind

A Kind of Magic

A Kind of Murder

A Kind of Anger

A Kind of Justice

A Kind Of Magic

Two of a Kind

A Kind of Murder

Three of a Kind

A Kind Of Madness

Three of a Kind

A Kind Of Honor

A Kind Of Magic

A Kind Of Murder

A Thing of Beauty

A Kind of Anger

Three of A Kind

Three of a Kind

A Forever Kind of Thing

A Forever Kind of Hero

A Forever Kind of Guy

A Forever Kind of Guy

A Forever Kind of Guy

A Forever Kind of Hero

No Such Thing as Forever

No Such Thing as Forever

Memory of a Thing

Kind of Madness, A

a kind of magic

A kind of murder

A Kind of Murder

Three of a Kind

A Kind of Magic

A Kind of Murder

A Kind of Anger

A Kind of Justice

A Kind Of Magic

Two of a Kind

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