Tonight and Forever Magical Romances Boxed Set

by D'Alessandro, Jacquie

  Anya. Now and Forever. James. 1949.

  Her fingers trembled as she traced the words and tears stung her eyes. She finally had names for her ghosts. The man and woman in her dreams had to be James and Anya.

  Eager to learn more, she tried opening the doors, but they were locked, as she expected it would be. Still disappointment rippled through her. She wanted to know if everything inside here matched her dreams. Especially the room she’d shared with her dream-lover. No, the room Anya had shared with James.

  Before leaving, she touched the door carving of Tristan kissing Isolde, closing her eyes and imagining a happy ending for them. The door panel suddenly turned burning hot and an overwhelming sense of terror grabbed her. She snatched her hand back and studied the door. It appeared normal, and when she touched it again, nothing happened. The panel was reassuringly cool, with no accompanying sense of doom. Surely, she had imagined it, but decided not to linger. As she passed the raven’s perch, it squawked at her again. When it followed her, hovering almost unnaturally in the air above her, she had to force herself to walk rather than run back to her car.

  It was time she got some answers.

  ~~~

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Cruz, can you repeat that?” Krisana shook her head, grappling to make sense of what the attorney had said. She’d assumed she’d inherited the property by being the beneficiary of an unknown person’s will, but that wasn’t the case.

  Shares of the opera house had been placed into a trust in her name for over the past twenty-five years, totaling fifty percent of the building’s worth. She would gain control of the trust tomorrow, on her birthday. When she asked why, the lawyer said her benefactor was a patron of the classical arts and had been impressed with her voice.

  “Please, call me Phineas.” In his mid-forties, with graying temples, dark hair, and sharp green eyes, the man’s indulgent smile made her feel like a child having her hand patted. “I understand this is a lot to take in all at once. Why don’t we meet for lunch after you’ve settled in and I can answer any further questions? Then if you want, you can consider seeing your benefactor—”

  “Settled in?” she asked, wondering if there was more he hadn’t told her. Did the trust stipulate she live in Mysteria Falls?

  “My apologies. After hearing your voicemail this morning, I assumed you’d be staying at least the night to see the property and to sign the papers for the trust tomorrow. So, I took the liberty of booking you a room at the bed and breakfast across the street. With the summer art festival starting today, rooms in the area will fill up fast.”

  She shifted in her seat. She appreciated Phineas’ forethought and consideration, but when she wasn’t on tour, she wanted to be the one arranging her agenda.

  More importantly, she didn’t want to wait until later to see her benefactor. She wanted answers now. “Thank you. Let me think about the bed and breakfast offer. First, I’d like to meet the man who is behind all of this. You’ve yet to tell me his name and how I may contact him.”

  Cruz hesitated, then picked up an envelope and a set of keys from the corner of his desk. He handed them to her. “The letter is from Lord Daniels, your benefactor. You will find a map to his nearby estate in the envelope and these are the keys to the opera house.”

  Lord Daniels? Did that mean the man was from England? And what? Titled. Hands trembling, she opened the letter.

  Dear Krisana,

  Thank you for coming. I anxiously look forward to our meeting and will explain everything then.

  That’s it? That’s all he wrote? Why had the man done this? Was he a long lost relative or an over generous fan? She clutched the keys, letter, and map tightly and stood. “Is there a number where Lord Daniels can be reached?”

  Cruz stood as well. “I’m to call him when you leave here and inform him of your plans.”

  “Then please, tell him I’m on my way.” She turned to leave and Cruz moved from his desk, walking ahead of her to the door. Instead of opening it, he swung to face her. She blinked up at him. “Is there a problem, Mr. Cruz?”

  “Not at all.” He held out a card. “This is my cell number. Call me by three o’clock if you want to stay at the bed and breakfast. And let me know what time tomorrow you want to review and sign the documents for the trust. I suggest over lunch or dinner. Legal papers are easier to take with food.”

  She smiled at him. “I’ll be in touch. Is there anything more you can tell me about why Lord Daniels chose me for this honor?”

  Phineas shook his head and opened the door for her. “Anything more, he will have to tell you himself.”

  On that cryptic note, she left. Once in her car, she studied the map, then re-opened the letter and sighed in frustration. She prayed that once she met Lord Daniels, she’d not only find out why he’d given her part of the opera house, but also why it, Anya, and James haunted her dreams.

  ~~~

  It was time. Jameson Daniels clenched his cell as it rang. The fate of his soul rode on what Phineas Cruz would tell him. The fact that a phantom’s world hinged on a vampire’s call, or more accurately, a mortal woman’s choice, was unthinkable. Then again, when it came to Anya, he wasn’t sane. Never had been. “She’s on her way?”

  “In the tasty flesh,” Phineas replied. “You neglected to tell me your protégé bears an uncanny resemblance to Anya, except for the color of her eyes. If Anya hadn’t been a mere mortal, I’d think it was her. Is it?”

  “Just a coincidence. Keep your fangs to yourself or you’ll find my chain wrapped around your neck. I’ll talk to you later.” Jameson clenched his jaw and hung up the phone. He’d known Phineas since they’d fought together in World War II, a rare time when all immortals had fought side-by-side to destroy the evil threatening humanity.

  Phantoms were the police keepers of the paranormal realm and were often hated or resented by other immortals. In the short seventy-five years he’d known Phineas, they’d had a fairly amicable, business-like relationship. He knew Phineas had lost the woman he loved centuries ago. Phineas never said exactly why, but that the Paratribunal—the immortals high court—had taken away her immortality, a punishment only meted out for treason or high crimes. So even though Phineas knew the pain of loss, Jameson wasn’t about to trust the vampire with the knowledge on just how vulnerable Jameson would soon be.

  In preparation for tomorrow, Jameson had resigned from the Alpha Force and withdrawn from all politics years ago to live as a recluse. If he was lucky enough to win Anya’s love again, he planned to spend every moment possible with her.

  In Anya’s first life, she’d died while Jameson had been on a mission. Never again. He blamed himself for her death and would pay the price to bring her back to life. Anya’s spirit had been reborn in Krisana Delacourt. For that sacrificial miracle, Jameson would lose his immortality on her twenty-fifth birthday. He’d still retain his powers as a phantom, but he’d age as mortals aged and could die as mortals did.

  He had no guarantees that Krisana would love him as Anya did. The woman she was then was not the woman she was now. She has a different heart, a different personality, and different life experiences, which meant he might or might not able to win her love. But at least there was a chance for them to find the happiness they’d lost.

  And even if she didn’t come back to him, he’d face death knowing that she lived and was able to sing again. Anya’s passion had been music. Krisana’s talent and voice equaled, if not surpassed, that of Anya’s. There was no doubt in his mind that Anya’s spirit lived in Krisana and she was on her way to see him.

  Almost a century of need had built inside of him, making his every cell seethe with want and his soul yearn with deep desire to have a second chance. Closing his eyes, he gave himself over to the hot anticipation flooding through him. At some point, he would have to tell Krisana who he was and the past he’d shared with Anya. He’d have to tell her that Anya died because he hadn’t been there for her. He’d failed her. Given that past, would Krisana be able to
fall in love with him?

  Palms damp and hands trembling, he prepared himself for the performance of his life. He’d had years to regret and plan and less than a weekend to make it all happen.

  CHAPTER TWO

  When Krisana came to a halt before gargoyle-topped iron gates and an impenetrable looking guard booth made of granite, she wondered what she was walking into. Nobody knew where she was because she hadn’t wanted anyone to know what she was up to.

  If she had called and told any of her friends, her manager, or her agent, about the delivery of the roses and the second part of the opera score, they would have either insisted they accompany her or begged her not to come. This was something she had to do, and she had to do it alone.

  Yet, it would be incredibly stupid not to let someone know where she was. Racking her brain, she finally texted Aleese, a childhood friend with whom she always got together when in New York.

  Took your advice. Have gone to Mysteria Falls, Virginia for a weekend vacation from my life. My birthday treat to me. I’m about to meet Lord Daniels, an affluent patron of classical music. I believe he’s the owner of a beautiful opera house here. Call me on Monday and I will tell you all about it.

  A knock on her window nearly sent her through the car roof. The white-haired gentleman bending down to peer into her window had watery blue eyes and a warm smile. “Are you all right?” he asked through the glass.

  She rolled down her window feeling silly for sending the text. “I’m Krisana Delacourt. I’m here to see Lord Daniels.”

  “Yes, Miss Delacourt. His Lordship is expecting you. After I open the gate, just follow the drive up to the house.” Though unusually warm for February, the guard was still bundled against the cold with a heavy jacket and a Sherlock Holmes-looking hat.

  “Thank you,” she said, and before he turned away, she asked, “How long has Lord Daniels lived here?”

  The elderly man smiled. “Longer than I’ve been alive, lass. That I do know.” He went back into his guardhouse and the iron gates creaked open. She waved as she passed by, wondering just how old Lord Daniels was as the gatekeeper appeared to be at least sixty.

  House? Krisana’s jaw dropped as dark stone ramparts emerged above the treetops. It would seem that Lord Daniels lived in castle. As she came to a curve, the trees gave way to a full view of the castle with a shimmering lake before it. She felt as if she’d stepped into the middle of a fairytale.

  Suddenly the blare of a horn snapped her gaze to the road and she swerved back to her side, but it was too late for the oncoming motorcyclist. He’d braked hard and slid sideways in the gravel. Both man and bike disappeared from view in front of her car just as she slammed on her brakes. Heart pounding crazily in her throat, she shoved the car into park and leapt from her seat. Her boot heels sank into the small rocks as she ran.

  “Oh my God! Are you all right?” she cried. She thankfully found that the man had stopped a fraction of an inch from her bumper. He sat up when she reached him and unsnapped his helmet. At least he was moving. The left side of his leather jacket was scraped gray with gravel dust and his leather pants were torn over his left thigh.

  She knelt at his side, her hands automatically going to his thigh, brushing off bits of clinging gravel as she searched for an injury.

  He groaned.

  She pulled the large tear in his pants open to touch his leg. She found supple skin, peppered with dark hair over a kickass muscle. Her hands shook. “There’s no open wound. Do you think you broke anything?”

  He lifted off his helmet and she glanced up, unexpectedly locking gazes with the devil himself, because no human man could embody such sinful temptation in his every feature, or look so hauntingly damned—as if he were intimately acquainted with Hell. Her impression lay at odds with the jeweled cross at his throat. Thick in the middle, the four ends of the cross, tapered to sword-like points. Something niggled at her mind, as if she should be able to remember something about a cross like that but couldn’t.

  He just sat there staring at her as if stunned.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to the road,” she said. “Are you hurt?” Her gaze searched his rich blue eyes. They were framed by thick, sinfully long, black lashes. His clean-shaven jaw was heavily shadowed, accentuating his full lips and determined nose. His hair, long enough to brush the collar of his jacket, gleamed darkly in the morning sun. She drank in his features, thirsty for more.

  His gaze dropped to where her hand pressed his thigh, forcing her gaze downward. The sight of her pale hand against his black leather clad muscle, precariously near his groin, was so blatantly erotic that she gasped. She would have jerked her hand away had he not set his gloved hand on hers, pressing her palm deeper into his thigh. She swore she felt his muscle flex in response. Heat scorched its way up her arm and down from her cheeks, meeting somewhere in her midsection where it flared into a fire of sensual awareness and chagrin.

  “I’ve a few aches and pains you could easily make go away, but otherwise I’ll live,” he said. His deep voice, filled with teasing humor, was perfectly pitched for pleasure—a tone adeptly suited for bedrooms and seduction. Before she could take offense, he released her hand and flexed his shoulders, giving a slight grimace as he stretched his neck. “Maybe.”

  She pulled her hand back, though the need to touch and soothe him more nearly overwhelmed her. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Yeah.” The look he gave her, took up where his seductive voice left off. With eyes that blue, a woman didn’t even need a bedroom. “First, tell me your name, beautiful,” he said, brushing aside a tendril of hair back from her face. She liked the feel of his leather-covered finger sliding down her cheek and sucked in air as a vision of his gloved hands exploring her bare flesh flashed through her mind. Her heart pounded. Had the image been a vision or a memory?

  “Krisana,” she managed to whisper. “And yours?”

  “Just call me, JD. Here.” He handed her his helmet. “Why don’t you stand back a sec, and I’ll get the Phantom off the ground?”

  “Phantom?”

  He slid his hand caressingly over the motorcycle. “Best ride you’ll ever have,” he said.

  Holding his helmet, she stood. JD rose, bringing the heavy bike up with him. Though the black and steel machine had a long slender look to it, she couldn’t see anything that differentiated it from other motorcycles. Rather than lowering the kickstand, he seated himself on the bike and reached for his helmet, letting her know their conversation was about to end.

  She handed him the helmet. “So what makes it the best?”

  He grinned, his full lips curving mischievously. “Me.”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I walked right into that one.”

  He laughed. The deep sound did things inside her that had never been done before. “I am referring to the motorcycle, you know,” he said. “I built the machine myself. There isn’t a smoother, more powerful ride on the market. Now, if you had something else in mind, we could—”

  “No! Um, that’s great. That you, uh, built it. Very talented.” She seemed to be digging herself deeper with every word. She was sure she just saved a bundle in cosmetics. Her cheeks were so hot that they had to be permanently scorched.

  “You here to see Old Man Daniels?”

  “If you mean Lord Daniels, then yes.”

  “Good luck with that. He’s in a mood today. Right of age, I guess. Any chance you’ll still be here when I get back? I’ll take you for a ride on the Phantom.” He slid his gaze down her body, leaving a tingling path of awareness.

  Her mouth went dry. “I’m not sure about that. I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

  “A virgin. Good, I’ll be your first.”

  She gaped, speechless before his confident grin. She wondered why she hadn’t found his suggestive remarks off putting. Maybe it was the irresistible humor in his eyes, as if he knew he was being bad, but that she’d forgive his teasing anyway.

  H
e slid on his helmet and started the motorcycle with a roar. After adeptly maneuvering the bike away from her car, he zoomed around the curve in the road and out of sight.

  She didn’t know if she was irritated, amused, outraged, or relieved. Getting into her car, she drove the rest of the way, hardly aware of the castle unfolding before her as she reached the end of the drive. There, a curved double stairway led to a marbled pathway with snowy, gold-leafed doors and imperial looking crests emblazoned on them.

  When she reached the doors, she saw the crests were comprised of two winged beasts locked in mortal combat, each wearing kingly robes and crowns. She knocked, but the doors were so thick her fist barely made a noise. It took her several minutes to realize the silk cord that hung from a ceiling of cherubs in heaven was the doorbell. Pulling it, she heard the haunting first notes of the opera, Come Back to Me

  Her heart started to pound. She couldn’t do this. The world kept going from seemingly normal to something frighteningly…strange. This Lord Daniels was just going to have to come see her. She swung around, heading to her car when a black blur swooped down from the shadows. Crying out, she flung her purse at the creature then realized it was a tiny bat that flew away in a flash.

  Fisting her hands, she grappled for calm. The door opened behind her.

  “My dear, are you all right? I heard you cry out.”

  Krisana turned around. A woman in her sixties, dressed in a maid’s uniform, walked toward her.

  “I’m fine. A bat…”

  The maid sighed, shaking her head. “That poor thing. I’ll have to have someone come capture it. The other evening it flew hard into the second story widow and lay addled on the steps for so long, its little wings barely fluttering that I was sure it would die. I put it in a box with a warm towel. It recovered, but now won’t leave.”

  Krisana picked up her purse, feeling silly for her reaction again. If the raven hadn’t spooked her earlier, she wouldn’t be jumping at shadows now. “It’s a tiny thing. Maybe it’s still injured and that’s why it’s staying close. Bats usually fly so fast you can hardly see them.”