Nolan watched Teren sleeping on a leather couch placed along the opposite bulkhead from where he sat. She was covered in a warm wool blanket, her legs drawn up toward her chest. She had cried after boarding the jet at the Khartoum airport. Ayman, Farida, and all her friends had driven there to see her off. The Sudanese were people of the heart, and there were no dry eyes in the terminal. It took everything Nolan had not to cry with them. The amount of love between them and Teren had made him wonder if she would ever get over being torn away from Kitra.
She had clung to Nolan during these last twenty-four hours, adrift and grief-stricken—and he’d held her, been her anchor. He reassured her that she would make wonderful friendships of equal depth at Artemis. Weekly Skype calls to Sudan would be a gentle lifeline for Teren as she adjusted to her new job and new life. Already, Ayman and Farida had promised that they would fly to the U.S. to visit with her, and that helped Teren greatly. It tore Nolan up that her own family was incapable of supporting her at all, but he was also grateful to the Sudanese who loved her fiercely, and that love would not dim with time or space. There was a heart loyalty between them, and it would exist forever.
He looked out the oval window, the dawn rising with the aircraft at max throttle, just under Mach one, heading for the East Coast of the U.S. He’d been on the communications links that the aircraft provided. It had Wi-Fi, an encrypted satellite phone, and the latest electronic security.
Nolan had asked Wyatt to get someone to his farmhouse, and get it cleaned up and welcoming for him and Teren. It would be her new home, he hoped. Nolan knew her heart wouldn’t be focused on the farmhouse he’d bought because there was too much grief and loss for her to work through right now. But he wanted to make a home for her—a place where she could feel safe and thrive as never before. He silently promised her that even though he’d never said the words out loud.
Looking out the window of the jet, he saw the dark green of the Atlantic thirty-five thousand feet below where they flew. He saw the whitecaps, the long rows of waves moving relentlessly to some unseen destination.
Sharan was like that—an evil blot on Delos, relentless in pursuing his revenge against them. And any American working for Delos was a potential target. No one could have guessed this would happen.
The world was in an insanity spiral as far as Nolan was concerned, and darkness and evil were flourishing more and more daily. At Delos, they were going to be confronting it head-on. And thankfully, those who owned Delos were billionaires from their container shipping businesses across the globe, so they could afford to ratchet up the security of Artemus, hire the right people, and watch out for their enemies who were determined to make sure Delos wouldn’t survive.
Moving stiffly in the comfortable leather chair, Nolan found peace by gazing at Teren’s sleeping features. Her hair was caught up in a long barrette at the back of her head. She was on the wings of sleep, and for that, Nolan was grateful. He’d already talked to Tal and Wyatt about her physical and emotional state, and they understood. When a Delos limousine picked them up at the airport, they would be taken directly to his farmhouse in the country. It was peaceful and quiet—the perfect place to help her adapt to this sudden change in her life.
Nolan knew that eventually Teren would adjust. She would come to realize her life was her own once more and she wouldn’t have to keep looking over her shoulder, wondering when she’d be kidnapped again by one of Sharan or Rasari’s minions. She would create a new family within Artemis, because they really were a family company, not one of those heartless global corporations that cared nothing for the humans who worked for them.
Teren would have Nolan there, to listen to her, to hold her when she wept, to show her the beauty of this new life they could create together. Nolan believed their love would survive this and was going to fight for both of them to give it a chance. He didn’t question Teren’s love for him; he knew it was there.
Nolan held on to this hope because Teren reached for him when things got bad. She trusted him above all else.
Teren knew about the Culver family history, but he did, primarily through Matt Culver, who had been an Army Delta Force operator like him. They’d served together in Afghanistan, and sometimes his team would work either directly or indirectly with Matt’s team. Nolan had been able to share this with Teren, and he’d seen some hint of interest when he told her much more about them. He emphasized that they were a tight family, just like her family at Kitra. Then he’d seen a glimmer of hope come to Teren’s eyes. Heartened, he’d told her about Tal and Alexa, the women of the family. He filled her in on Dilara and Robert Culver, the parents of these children who ran Artemis. And Nolan had seen more hope grow in Teren’s desolate expression. More than anything, he’d tried to build the vision that she was moving from one loving family to another. Here, too, she would be a loved, respected family member, embraced and welcomed, just as she had been at Kitra.
She’d already told him on the flight that when she came back to the States, she would not go back to Kentucky to visit her family. It would just reopen that wound from the past that had never healed between them. Nolan agreed with her. They’d only want Teren back if she’d throw away who she was to fit their idea of who she should be. That wouldn’t happen.
Teren wasn’t even sure she would let them know she’d returned stateside, such was the depth of the wound within her. Nolan acquiesced to whatever she wanted to do about it. In the future, he hoped that some kind of bridge between them might be rebuilt. But he wasn’t sure. And neither was Teren. Her family, her real one, was back in Kitra. It was up to him to build her another family of equal love and caring here in Virginia.
And there was nothing Nolan wanted more.
CHAPTER 22
Teren loved Nolan’s two-story, mid-nineteenth-century Virginia farmhouse. They stood together on the redbrick walk, which had a herringbone pattern, looking at it with appreciation. The fall afternoon was warm and the smell of decaying leaves permeated her senses. She was jet-lagged but couldn’t deny how appealing the white farmhouse with dark brown shutters was—it felt like home to her. Leaning wearily against Nolan, his arm across her shoulders, she whispered, “It’s beautiful, Nolan. Did you know? I love antiques and anything from another era?”
“No I didn’t, but that’s good to hear. This place is old all right, and it needs a lot of TLC. I think after I roll up my sleeves and get to repairing it, it’ll be a home you can love even more.” He gazed over at Teren, seeing her tender glance toward him.
She knew how much he’d gone through for her, but she didn’t know that he’d feared their love might not weather the storm that surrounded her. Looking at her now, Nolan knew it was his fear from the past that was eating at him. Teren loved him. Period. That wasn’t going to change.
“I love the wraparound porch,” she said, gesturing to it. “And the swing. I love swings.”
“You never told me that.”
She smiled faintly, drowning in his eyes, absorbing his quiet stability, the effortless way his care embraced her and made her feel as if everything was going to be all right. “We never had time to talk about things like this, did we?”
“Well,” he said gruffly, “we will now.”
Nodding, Teren’s gaze moved across the railing around the porch. At one time, it had been a screened-in porch, but that was now gone. “Are the mosquitoes in Virginia like the ones in Kentucky, always pests during the summer months?”
“Yep,” he said. “Which is why I’m going to put up new screens next spring. I’d like us to use that swing on the porch and not be constantly batting at them.”
The trees surrounding the farmhouse formed a palette of orange, yellow, and red colors against the backdrop of the green pasture behind the home. There was a red barn, two stories high, with paint peeling off the sides; the roof was rounded and the shingles looked worn.
Still, Teren felt a new surge of hope slowly moving through her. The place was in a cul-de-sac at the end of
a narrow asphalt road. The wooden rail fencing needed a lot of TLC, too. “I wonder,” she murmured, resting her head against Nolan’s shoulder, “if the former owners loved this place as much as you do.”
“I’m sure they did. But it’s fallen into disrepair over the last twenty-five years.”
“Was it abandoned?”
“No. The last surviving family member died two years ago, and there were no heirs, so it was put on the market by the family attorney and it finally found a new owner: me.”
“I’m sure that house rang with happiness and laughter, tears and loss, and now holds many memories,” she whispered, gazing at it.
He pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’d like to make new memories in it with you, Teren,” he said, and saw her love for him reflected in the depths of her eyes. “How do you feel about that?” Inwardly, Nolan held his breath. He knew Teren was jet-lagged and emotionally strung out, but he needed to give her a foundation for her new life. “This will be a place where we can create new memories. Where we can dream together, and you can envision the colors you’d like to have in each of the rooms. The outside of the house can be any color you like. You can put antiques you’ve chosen in them and make this a real home for us.”
“Yes . . . yes, that sounds wonderful, Nolan. I don’t want a life without you in it. I know it’s too soon, but now we have the time. Here,” she moved her chin in the direction of the farmhouse, “we aren’t under threat. We’re safe here. We can relax, be ourselves, and have a real chance to explore one another.”
She slid her fingers across his jaw, which needed to be shaved. “This farmhouse sort of looks like both of us right now: in a state of becoming. I love the symbolism, the overlay of how it looks and how each of us was abandoned in one way or another. But now, here we are, together. We have each other.”
Teren watched his eyes grow dark with emotion, narrowing hungrily as he gazed at her. She went on, “Things happen for reasons, I’ve seen that in my own life. I’ve had time to think and feel my way through the stages of my life, and so far, I’m a better person now than before. My own family doesn’t accept who I am, but Uncle Ayman and the people of Kitra welcomed me with open arms. They loved me just the way I am. They didn’t try to change me.” She cupped Nolan’s cheek, a fierce love tunneling through her. “You welcomed me the same way. I feel like I’m growing, I’m opening up, blooming. I’ve been moved from one family I love in Sudan to this new family here, with you.”
He slid his hands across her shoulders, feeling no tension in them. The way she languidly leaned against him made Nolan’s heart soar. “We’ll make a family, Teren. That’s my promise to you. Whatever you want…I want it for you. I want you happy. I like hearing your laugh. I love holding you in my arms at night, holding you close to me in bed. I like hearing you think out loud, how you see life around you, how it touches and affects you.” He leaned down, taking her lips, feeling her instant response, that happy sound vibrating in her slender throat as he deepened the kiss with her.
His world melted and dissolved beneath her mouth, her lips gliding against his; he felt her arms tighten around his shoulders, her fingers sliding through his short hair at the nape of his neck. She smelled so good to him, felt so alive and soft within his tight embrace, and Nolan absorbed the joy surrounding them.
As Teren eased her lips from his, he stared down and saw desire in her stormy gray eyes. “And now I’m going to carry you over the threshold,” he growled, and he swept her up into his arms. Teren gave a surprised, happy laugh, her arms around his neck, her brow pressed against his jaw as he walked to the porch and climbed the creaking wooden stairs. Nolan unlocked the door and pushed it open with the toe of his boot. Light poured in through the curtained windows, flooding the foyer. He carried her to the right, into a high-ceilinged, formal living room. It was one of two places he’d already been working on to bring back to its original nineteenth-century charm.
Easing her down but keeping his arm around her waist, Nolan watched Teren take in the warm, bright room. He’d chosen American rococo revival antiques and a rosewood sofa with a small bird pattern of blue silk. There was an armchair, plus two sitting chairs with it. The huge redbrick fireplace went from floor to ceiling. There was a sideboard along one wall from the same period, and the wallpaper matched the period as well—pale cream with small lavender buds of roses and green leaves here and there. The matching cream-colored curtains were filmy, drawn back to allow the afternoon light to flood the room. They, too, were designed with plants and flowers throughout the texture of the fabric.
“This,” Teren breathed in amazement, “is gorgeous, Nolan.” She looked up at him. “Was it like this when you bought it? Or did you decorate it?”
“No, it was a gutted empty room,” he said. “The floor was in bad shape and I replaced it with a light-colored oak that had originally been installed in it. The carpet beneath the sofa and chairs I bought from an antique dealer in Alexandria, which I think you’ll love to explore. This is a hand-woven striped eighteenth-century rug. The rosewood furniture I got at an estate sale in the Shenandoah Valley, west of here.”
“So,” she said, “you used your weekends to hunt for just the right pieces?”
“Yep,” he said, looking at the joy shining in her eyes. “Do you like what I’ve done so far?”
“I love it! I love the color of the rosewood, the light in here. The striped blue, green, and gray rug just pulls it all together. And that fireplace is awesome.”
“So?” Nolan murmured, bringing her into his arms. “You think you might want to stay with me and help me restore this old farmhouse and make it our own?”
Teren reached up, claiming his smiling mouth, drowning in the dark blue of his eyes, which held heat, promise, and love for her alone. She pressed her hips against his, holding him tightly, kissing him with everything she felt for him. She wasn’t disappointed as Nolan gave a low groan, hungrily plundering her mouth, sliding his hands down her torso, capturing her hips, holding her tight against his pelvis, letting her know he wanted her in other ways, too.
Her whole lower body flared to life, despite the jet lag. The warmth of the room, the light, and his male fragrance all combined to make Teren deliriously happy. As they broke their kiss, breathing faster, staring at one another, Teren whispered, “I love you, Nolan Steele. That’s never going to change, no matter where in the world we live.”
He tunneled his fingers through her hair at her temple, kissing her brow, her nose, and then her lips. “Good, because I feel the same way about you, sweetheart. Are you ready for a tour of the rest of our home?”
His eager words brought tears to her eyes. Our home. How wonderful that sounded. Nolan led her across the foyer and down the hall a little way to the left, where she found a huge L-shaped kitchen. It was badly in need of loving work and care, but she saw the bones of the huge double sink and wooden counter. The rows of windows made the place feel light and airy. An old iron woodstove was in the room, along with a modern refrigerator and gas-fed cook stove. The cupboards made her gasp. Each one had colorful stained glass on its front. The white painted wood only made the ancient stained glass look more colorful. “I love this,” she exclaimed, touching the glass in wonderment.
“It’s original from when the first owners built this house,” Nolan told her. “I’ve been working with a museum expert on this, and she’s helping to clean and refurbish the glass so it will last another hundred and fifty years.”
“It’s just so beautiful.” Teren turned, absorbing the huge area. “This kitchen has so much potential, Nolan.”
“Sort of like us?” He grinned and saw her lips curve and a sparkle come to her eyes for the first time. It was as if he could sense life flooding back into her, returning, much like the Nile flooded the land surrounding it, making it fertile and abundant once more.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Just like us.”
“Well,” he teased, “if there’s hope for this farmhouse, then there’s
hope for us!”
She kissed him for a long, long time, languishing against him. “Yes, there’s lots and lots of hope for us, Nolan.”
*
At Artemis headquarters, Teren tried to tamp down her nervousness as she was led into one of the large mission planning rooms deep below the ground to a secret, well-protected part of the security company. Nolan had her hand and was leading her into a room where the door had been slid open. They’d had a week together with no demands other than living together in the farmhouse, and Teren hadn’t known how desperately she’d needed those fulfilling seven days with Nolan until now.
As lonely as she was for her friends in Kitra, he had filled her days with laughter as they worked on the farmhouse together, sharing stories with her. They’d filled their nights, hungrily seeking each other in bed, their lovemaking reaching new levels of passion. Her body still pulsed with the memory of Nolan loving her earlier this morning, long before this nine a.m. meeting. She was to meet the Culver family and then take a tour of the huge security facility. After the tour, she would talk at length with Alexa Culver and her team, who worked with the Home School portion of Delos. At one time Alexa had headed up another division, but later, had made a lateral move to this one.
Entering the room, Teren saw many people standing and chatting with one another. Matt Culver had driven down to the house to see Nolan, a fellow Delta Force buddy, midweek. Teren recognized him and felt better at least knowing one person in the room. Matt was the first to come forward, a smile of welcome on his face, his hand offered to Teren.
“Hey, welcome aboard our little ship, camouflaged by the surrounding farmhouse. Do you like how we hid Artemis?”
Sanctuary: Delos Series, Book 9 Page 28