Forever Wife

by Faulkner, Carolyn

  Vidar did not really need the old man’s property to build the elaborate casino. He only wanted it so he could bulldoze it. It was ugly. It was the first thing people would see when they gazed out the window of his fancy resort. They would see the clear, pristine water of the lake, the thick birches surrounding the water and often reflected upon its surface. They would see the rolling White Mountains of New Hampshire, and they would see old Holcombe’s tarpaper shack.

  Vidar had an idea. “We only wanted your property, sir, to take advantage of a government-subsidized improvement grant. We wanted to fix up your place, give it a facelift. New siding, new roof, maybe new wiring. Then we could turn around and sell it,” he lied, trying to entice the old man to his way of thinking.

  “Improvement grant,” Edgar mumbled, but his piercing blue eyes betrayed his assumed lack of interest. “Well, dag nabbit. If you can get a grant to fix up this old place, maybe I ought to apply for the same money.”

  “Why, Edgar, that’s perfect,” Vidar gushed, as though the old man had thought it up all on his own. Vidar brought out official-looking papers that were completely bogus, and with a little more sweet-talking, convinced him to sign on the dotted line. Vidar hated people who preyed upon the elderly, hated it when they tried to swindle them out of their meager savings. But Vidar wasn’t doing that. He was going to fix up the old man’s home and not charge him a cent, yet he’d saved the man his dignity by letting him think that the money was coming from the government, paid for by the very tax money he’d paid in over the years.

  They finished their coffee and parted as though they were best friends. If only all of Vidar’s business dealings could run as smoothly.

  It was barely dusk on a Friday afternoon. Vidar did not have to be anywhere until Monday morning. He did not want to see the luxurious log cabin he owned, formerly the Shelburne’s summer residence. He absolutely did not want to go there… but somehow the rental car took him there anyway.

  He was not going to get out of the car. Well, maybe he would. The cabin called to him, drew him as though it were under a spell. Something didn’t feel right… the hair on the back of his neck prickled with a sense of dread that he had learned long ago to respect.

  He was no longer a warrior. He had given up his centuries-long duty fighting to protect his people, and in so doing, earned the name “oath breaker”. But the cunning and skill he had learned in battle alerted him now. He pulled his rental car around to park behind the boathouse, concealing it. Then cautiously, he checked on the hematite he had set at the four corners outside the cabin. They were still there, undisturbed. They had been placed there with a powerful protection spell – whoever had invaded his home had done no damage yet.

  Vidar swallowed, struggling to loosen the tightness in his throat, as he broke another oath he had made barely two years ago, at Mr. Shelburne’s graveside memorial service. He walked inside the cabin.

  Chapter Three

  “Thanks, Tracy,” Liz said, as she climbed from her friend’s small car. “Let’s get together again on Sunday, after we’ve both had a chance to study our options.”

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get to the grocery store,” Tracy admitted. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you out now?”

  Liz shook her head. Tracy had bought her breakfast. There was no way she was going to let her buy a month’s worth of groceries. She wasn’t sure what she was going to live on, but pride kept her from confiding in her childhood friend. “Later,” she called.

  Tracy turned her car around and pulled out of the rutted driveway, honking a friendly rhythm as she left.

  Liz sank down, sitting on the front step as she gazed out across the lake. What was she doing here? How could she help Tracy launch a “Save the Lake” campaign? She couldn’t even save herself. She needed food. She needed a job. She needed a reason to live.

  Life was precious, every minute of it, but she knew she was still suffering from depression. Partly from losing her parents so suddenly and within months of each other. Partly from the horrible accident, which still gave her nightmares. Then there was the terrible financial burden from her injuries. When she couldn’t work, she couldn’t pay her bills. The bank called her loan, and she lost everything.

  Well, she wasn’t going to solve the problems of the universe while sitting on the front steps feeling sorry for herself. She needed a hot shower and then she would consider her options. She opened the door, ready to lunge up the stairs, except for the large, brooding figure blocking her way, his arms folded across his chest. Liz screamed, right before she fainted.

  Vidar lunged, catching her before her head could hit the ground. He had anticipated anger, hurt, or pain, but never fear. Had it been so long that she no longer even recognized him? He shook his head, irritated with himself. He hadn’t changed, and that was the problem. While living with the Shelburnes he had tried to age himself gradually, tinting the hair at his temples gray and adding a little bulk to his chest as often happened to young men between their late twenties and mid-thirties. It was just an illusion, of course and one he had dropped after that fateful day when Elizabeth told him she never wanted to see him again.

  She felt light as a feather as he scooped her into his arms. Too light. She was not eating well, not taking care of herself. He felt his teeth clench and his palm itch. This one had been overindulged and under-disciplined her entire life. What he wouldn’t do to fix that for her now!

  He glanced in the mirror in the hallway, pausing long enough to lighten his hair at the temples again. With another hasty illusion, he added a hint of crow’s feet wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and a scowl line between his eyebrows. Already he could feel the girl reviving, so that would have to do for now. He carried her into the living room and sat on the sofa, still holding her.

  “Wha- what happened?” she said groggily, rubbing her forehead.”

  “You fainted,” Vidar snapped.

  She pushed herself up, her small hand pressing against his chest. How precious it felt! It was right over his heart. Did she know how that simple touch affected him? How his heart rate increased? Could she see that his eyes had dilated and how he held on to his control by the barest of threads?

  “Uncle Vidar? Is it you?” Her voice was shaky, but he heard only surprise. None of the anger he had anticipated. The realization left him speechless.

  “It is you! What are you doing here?”

  She slid off his lap, and fool that he was, he let her go. Her legs were unstable though. Vidar caught her and guided her to sit on the couch, pressing her forehead between her knees.

  “Breathe, Beth. Gentle, deep, even breaths. For some reason, you aren’t getting enough oxygen to the brain. That’s what caused you to faint.”

  “You just startled me,” she said weakly. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.”

  “No. You just left the place unlocked, anyone could have walked right in. You are reckless as always. You ought to be spanked.”

  She chuckled. “Yep, same old Uncle Vidar. You were always telling Mom and Daddy that I needed a spanking. I’m glad they never listened to you.”

  Vidar went to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. “Here. Drink.”

  “Bossy as always,” she quipped, but she drank the water anyway.

  He sat on the coffee table facing her, his hands resting on his knees. It looked deceptively calm, but Liz could sense the fury thrumming through him. She always could. There was something dangerous about him – something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was devilishly attractive. She had always been drawn to him, from as far back as she could remember.

  “So, what are you doing here?”

  “What brings you here?” They both said in unison.

  Liz laughed. “I never took you for the type to break and enter.”

  “I am not trespassing,” he said coolly. “I own Camp Birches.”

  “You! Own! It? It was you!” she shouted. “You’re the scumbag who bought my family
’s summer home out from under them! You about broke my daddy’s heart when you did that!” She rose to her feet and threw the last bit of water at him.

  He snatched her wrist before she clobbered him with the glass as well. He drew her in, folding her within the circle of his powerful arms. “I bought Camp Birches to save it for him, little girl. I paid him nearly double what it was worth, and allowed him to continue living here. Although, whatever financial arrangements I had with your father are surely none of your business.”

  His first impulse was to turn her over his knee for that little tantrum, but the last time he had given in to that urge had ended badly and he hadn’t seen her since, except from a distance at her father’s funeral.

  “So tell me, little one. If you didn’t realize that I owned Camp Birches, then what exactly are you doing here?”

  Liz felt the steel in his voice and shrank from him. She tried to fight it, tried not to show him fear, but she was exhausted. The large breakfast she had consumed was sitting uncomfortably under the stress of the moment. The shock of discovering that her parents’ oldest and dearest friend – the man they had entrusted to be the godfather for their only child – had betrayed them in the end – she felt tears fill her vision. She was not normally given to weeping, but at the moment, she was powerless to stop it.

  Vidar lifted her into his arms again and settled on the couch with her on his lap. He guided her head to rest on his shoulder and whispered sweet words of comfort in her ear. He swayed gently, holding the most precious person in his world and treasured the moment. He produced a handkerchief for her, which she used. Then he kissed her tears, each and every one he could find. Her arms snaked around his neck and clung to him, her sobs growing harder regardless of the comfort he offered. He didn’t understand what had brought her to this, but he would find out. Probably not today, though. He continued to hold her and comfort her until she cried herself to sleep. Then he carried her into the master bedroom and tucked her into bed. He had no place he would rather be, so he lay down beside her and held her while she slept.

  Liz slept soundly for perhaps the first time in months. No pain interrupted her. No nightmares, no strange sounds creaking in the dark. She felt warm sunshine on her face, and felt a warm body beside her. Her eyes flew open and she was face to face with the one man who intimidated her most. Vidar Gulbrandt, her godfather, her childhood hero and best friend, her first crush and the subject of all her darkest fantasies… and the one man she thought she’d never see again. Her lips pressed into a firm line as she took stock of her surroundings.

  She was in her parents’ bedroom under the sheets. Vidar was on top of the blankets, but her head was on his arm. She pushed him away now and rolled over, turning her back to him.

  Vidar chuckled, tugging playfully on a strand of hair. “Good morning, Beth.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

  “I always called you Beth.”

  “You used to be a friend of the family, too. But you didn’t even come to Daddy’s funeral!”

  “I was there,” he said quietly.

  “I didn’t see you!”

  “Because you told me you never wanted to see me again,” he reminded her.

  “When! When did I say that?”

  “That day in your apartment,” he whispered.

  “What? That day you spanked me, you mean. Vidar! You are such an idiot!”

  “Be careful, young lady.”

  “Of course I would say that! You had just spanked me and I was embarrassed!”

  “How was I to know that you didn’t mean it,” he wondered, hope springing in his heart for the first time in years.

  “I was in love with you!” Liz nearly shouted the words. She rolled to her feet, wincing at the pain that now radiated out from her spine and down her arms. Even her fingertips were tingling. The anger was churning in her empty stomach. She needed a shower. She needed food and she needed to be left alone.

  “You loved me,” he murmured, noticing her use of past tense. “You hid it well. I never suspected.”

  “Then you were the only one who didn’t know it. I am going to take a shower.” Liz fled from her parents’ bedroom to the shelter of her room upstairs. Before long she felt the hot pounding water pulsating on her injured spine, wishing it could wash away the pain, as her thoughts remained focused on the strange man downstairs and on that fateful day.

  She had never been much of a student. She wouldn’t have even made it into college, except her parents had hired a special tutor for her. She had absolutely no interest in algebra or history or economics. She loved horses and she always would. When she turned twenty-one, she had decided that she was wasting time in school and would drop out to start her own boarding and training stables. Apparently, her folks had not taken her announcement well, for they’d called Vidar to talk some sense into her.

  Liz remembered inviting him in, although she was certain that nothing he said would change her mind. She intended to ride and show horses, and she felt that having to be in classes all the time was holding her back. She wasn’t willing to see their very practical point that a business degree could be valuable to her in the future. She wasn’t interested in the future. She was interested in doing exactly what she wanted to do right now, and it wasn’t taking statistics – which she was hopelessly flunking – or even English Literature, which she adored but required a ton of her time to do all the readings and complete the five papers the professor had assigned.

  She just wanted to ride horses, and that was exactly what she’d told Vidar she intended to do once she’d introduced him to her roommate, who thankfully was on her way to her part time job. Liz remembered with a smile that she kept signaling to Liz behind Vidar’s back how much she was drooling over him. Liz was beginning to wonder if she intended to go to her shift at all.

  “Riding is all well and good,” he had said as he sank his not inconsiderable bulk down on their tiny love seat, never taking his eyes off her, “but it can’t put food on the table. Your parents are very worried about you thinking it would be okay to quit school – and ducking out of classes, because that’s what you’re thinking of doing. Because it most definitely wouldn’t.”

  The admonishing tone of his words went right over her head. She’d even had the audacity to huff at his concerns and roll her eyes. “I can make tons of money and maybe even make it to the Olympics. When I don’t want to ride any more, I can sell my services as a trainer all over the country. People will pay me for my expertise. My friend Regan already does exactly that.”

  “And what if you’re injured? What’s going to happen then?” he asked, leaning towards where she was sitting with her legs curled under her in the chair just to his right.

  “I won’t get injured. I’m very careful and an excellent rider.” She pooh-poohed his concerns with the blitheness of youth. She couldn’t see that he remained unconvinced. She didn’t notice the way his muscles tightened, his lips compressed, and determination motivated him to save her from herself.

  She was sitting so close to him that he barely had to lean forward at all to tug her right over his lap, especially since the entire move was completely unexpected. She landed across his broad lap with an unbecoming “oooph” and Liz immediately began trying to extricate herself from that ignominious position, unsuccessfully. One big hand on her lower back, pressing surprisingly gently, meant that she wasn’t going anywhere until he deigned to allow it.

  Liz couldn’t help it. She giggled, which was in retrospect the exact wrong thing to do. But it was pure nerves. Nothing in her fantasies had readied her for the stark reality of being in this very intimate, extremely vulnerable position. “Okay, you’ve made your point,” she chuckled. “Now let me up.”

  The hand that held her down didn’t move a bit, but simply remained where it was, assuring that she did the same.

  “I don’t think so, Elizabeth.”

  Damn. He never called her that unless he was unhappy with her. Very un
happy.

  “Your parents are not pleased that you’re thinking about dropping out of school - especially considering the sacrifices both of them have had to make to get you here.”

  She knew all of this. She knew that her Daddy had worked very hard to be able to afford to send her to Dartmouth, especially considering his up-and-down career.

  “And that makes me very unhappy, too.”

  The hand that had been holding her in place relatively innocently was no longer so innocuous. It had been replaced by his other hand in order to free it to reach under her and unsnap her jeans, which she found herself bereft of in a matter of seconds, long before she thought he would manage to do so. And her thong panties weren’t going to provide her any protection at all against what she figured was probably going to happen to her in the next few minutes.

  She had to get off his lap. There were just no two ways about it. But, although he never seemed to break a sweat or exert himself in the least, she found her avenues of escape blocked. Every last one.

  Liz exhausted herself banging against the immovable object that was Vidar – and a determined Vidar, at that. She vowed to get away from him until she’d used up every last ounce of strength. She still ended up right where she started, only now she had even fewer defenses.

  “Are we done?” Vidar asked, and if his leg had been closer she would have bitten it – damn the consequences – at the sarcasm in his voice.

  She refused to answer him, but lay stiffly over his lap, huffing and puffing from her previous exertions. “You had better not touch me, Vidar!” She was down to resorting to empty threats. “My parents will sue you! They’ll have you arrested – I’ll have you arrested.”

  He chuckled, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound in the least. “Oh, I don’t think so. You won’t have me arrested because you’re not going to want to tell the police that you just got your fanny tanned – or have them taking pictures of your sore bottom as evidence. And your parents aren’t going to sue me; they’re going to thank me for convincing you to stay in school. I don’t think you’ll be in any hurry to tell them the truth, either, and even if you do, I’ll still be able to point to the fact my method works.