The Heart of a Hero

by Janet Chapman

  She turned to gape at him. “Huh?”

  He shrugged his unbruised shoulder, his grin sudden and irreverent. “Near as I can tell, our entire lovemaking is one long orgasm for you.”

  Julia slapped her hands to her slackened jaw and turned back to the window so he wouldn’t see the sheen in her eyes at the realization he might actually get it. She loved making love to him. And yeah, it was one long orgasm.

  “New Year’s Day, then,” he softly repeated.

  Considering Mac had given Olivia a week and Duncan had given Peg less than twelve hours, she supposed nine days wasn’t so bad. “Well,” she hedged just to bug him, “I might be able to throw together a hot dog and beer wedding on such short notice, except we’ll have to use the fireplace in the—”

  Julia grabbed the window casing with a gasp. “Oh, Nicholas,” she whispered, her vision blurring with tears again. “A figment of the imagination just came galloping into your driveway.”

  He threw back the blankets with a shout, scattering the five cats, and swung his feet off the bed with a growl. Julia rushed over and tucked herself under his arm as he used the nightstand to leverage himself to his feet. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered, pulling away from her to lift the sash. “Phantom!” he shouted out the open window as Julia ended up having to kneel down and squeeze past him to see. “What took you so long, you old dog?” he continued when the horse stopped in midprance and looked around the dooryard. “Up here!” Nicholas pulled Julia to her feet. “Go call Rowan to come let him in the garage.”

  “I think Mac took your phone. I didn’t see it in the basket when I wanted to use it to call Trisha yesterday.”

  “There’s a resort phone in the oak box on my bookshelf,” he said as he braced his hands on the window ledge and gave a sharp whistle.

  Julia ran off just as the cats all headed to the window, except for Sol, who raced down the stairs ahead of her. She saw him slide to a halt at the cupboard door and open it with his paw, then heard the cat door flap as he shot outside. She continued into the office, found the box and took out the phone, then turned it on as she rushed to the window. She found Rowan’s number and pushed SEND, then slid back the curtain just in time to see Sol skid to a stop in front of Phantom, making the horse rear up excitedly.

  “Sol, you idiot!” she heard Nicholas shout. “You know what he’s like after he’s—”

  “Rowan, Phantom’s back,” Julia said when he answered. “He’s standing in Nicholas’s driveway. Can you come down and—yes,” she said when he cut her off, “he’s covered in dried blood and is still wearing a saddle and bridle without any reins, but he doesn’t seem to be limping or anything.” She headed back upstairs at a run. “Yeah, he’s shouting out his bedroom window at him. Please hurry. I don’t know if I can keep him inside, and he’s still too unsteady to go near that horse.”

  She ran in the bedroom to find Nicholas pulling a pair of sweatpants out of his bureau drawer and rushed over to try to snatch them from him only to end up in a tug-of-war—which she lost when he merely raised his hand over his head.

  “The only way you’re going out there,” she said, backing to the door and grabbing the casings, “is through me.”

  He actually grinned. “I suppose we might as well start setting the ground rules,” he said as he leaned against the bureau and slowly bent to slide a leg into the pants, “before you say I do.”

  “I’m warning you,” she growled. “Don’t make me flex my real muscle.”

  He slid his other foot in the other pant leg, worked the pants up over his boxers, then straightened with a soft hiss. He looked around and grinned again. “I don’t see your usual weapon of choice. Where’s your tote bag?”

  “Nicholas,” she softly petitioned when he opened another drawer and pulled out a sweatshirt. “Please don’t go out there.”

  He started to lift the shirt to his head, but hesitated. “Unfair. No pleading.”

  “How about if Rowan brings Phantom to your office window and you can sit in a chair and fawn all over him? I have some carrots in the fridge you can give him.”

  “We need to make him a hot oat mash with molasses and diced carrots,” he said, putting on the shirt.

  “Show me how, and you can give it to him from your office window.”

  He was utterly serious when his head emerged from the shirt. “Do you have any idea the hell he went through getting back here on his own?”

  “No, I don’t,” she returned just as quietly, walking up and placing her hand on his chest. “But I have a pretty good idea of the hell you went through. Please, Nicholas; you’re just starting to— Wait. That night in the tunnel, I heard Rowan ask Mac if he couldn’t simply heal you. Can he?”

  He wrapped an arm around her with a snort and slowly started toward the door. “Mac knows better than to even try.”

  “But if he can heal you, why wouldn’t you let him?”

  He lifted his arm away to brace his hands on both banisters. “Because I can damn well heal myself,” he said on a hiss of pain as he slowly started down the stairs.

  Julia stood glaring at his back. “Then why damn well don’t you?”

  “Because I choose not to.”

  She rushed down the steps when he reached the bottom and tucked herself under his arm again. “Are you going to be this stubborn when you’re ninety?”

  “Yes.” He gave her a squeeze. “Assuming you don’t bludgeon me to death before then.” He stopped and lifted her chin to look up at him. “My body is doing a fine job of healing itself, Julia, on its own schedule, using its own magic.”

  “But I don’t understand why you don’t just—”

  “I’m buying myself time.”

  “Can’t you just pretend you’re not healed instead of going through all this pain?”

  She saw the light go out of his eyes. “I’ll not dishonor Sampson’s memory by walking away unscathed as if it never happened.”

  Julia tried to turn away, but he gently folded her into his embrace. “He should have been the one carrying me back,” he said on a heavy sigh. “And at the very least, I should be the one taking him home right now instead of Mac.” He tilted her head back and grinned sadly. “Are you ready to talk about the magic now?”

  “I might be, if we were to talk in your office while Phantom eats his mash.”

  “Deal,” he said, using her as a walking cane again as he headed to the office.

  Darn it to Hades, he hadn’t had any intention of going outside.

  Just like she hadn’t had any intention of having the talk until they were ninety.

  They stopped at the office window and Nicholas lifted the sash as if it had never been stuck, and Julia wheeled his desk chair over—only to scramble back when Phantom suddenly skidded into the side of the house, stuck his head inside all the way to his chest, and tried to bite Nicholas’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, I missed you, too,” Nicholas said with a laugh as he grabbed the bridle before those teeth made contact. “Easy,” he murmured, stroking Phantom’s huge dark gray nose crusted with blood. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to get rid of you that easily.”

  Julia ran to the kitchen, grabbed a fistful of carrots out of the fridge, and ran back into the office to find Phantom standing quietly with his forehead resting up against Nicholas’s chest as Nicholas stood with his hands pressed to the horse’s jowls. But it wasn’t the fact they both had their eyes closed that made her go perfectly still; rather, it was the shimmering green light spreading over the horse’s neck in soft, pulsing waves.

  Okay then; they weren’t going to have to talk about the magic because she was seeing it in action. Phantom released a long, deep-bellied sigh as Nicholas continued murmuring to him, that pulsing green light now covering the horse’s entire body.

  “Come here, Julia,” Nicholas said softly, not opening his eyes. “Come feel this.”

  Utterly and completely mesmerized, she slowly walked over to them.

  “Touch him,” he wh
ispered. “Touch his neck and feel the energy.”

  She nervously rubbed her hand on her thigh, then slowly reached out, barely stifling a gasp when the green light—which felt as if it were vibrating like a tuning fork—enveloped her hand with heat intense enough to make her hesitate.

  “Keep going,” Nicholas quietly urged. “Touch him.”

  She pressed her palm to Phantom’s sweat-soaked neck and felt his muscles gently convulsing to the rhythm of the pulsing light. The huge beast let out another groan that ended in an equine sigh as the green light slowly began fading, and Julia looked over when Nicholas also softly groaned to see him drop his hands and stagger back, then carefully lower himself into the chair.

  She stepped away when Phantom backed out the window, then recoiled when he gave a loud squeal and reared up, his front hoofs pawing the air as he pivoted on his haunches and took off. She rushed to the window to see him galloping and bucking around the dooryard, sparks flying off his metal shoes as they struck the frozen gravel.

  “Are you serious?” she whispered as she turned to see Nicholas slumped back in the chair, his eyes closed and his complexion ashen. “Oh, Nicholas,” she said, getting on her knees next to him and touching his cool, pale cheek. “Please heal yourself.”

  “Too late,” he murmured, his eyes opening slightly as he grinned weakly. “At least for another few days.”

  “You . . . you were saving your energy for Phantom?”

  He nodded, then slowly sat up to see out the window, his grin disappearing. “This wasn’t the first time I’ve had to leave him behind,” he said as he watched Phantom prancing in circles. “And yet not only does he always manage to find his way back to me, he’s always eager to head out again.” He touched her cheek. “It’s far more than loyalty that brings him home; it’s unconditional love. And that is what you will always have from me, Julia, until the end of time.” He lifted her chin to keep her looking at him when she lowered her gaze. “I am aware that notion may frighten you, especially considering what you’ve learned about me these last few days.” He grinned weakly again, pressing a finger to her lips when she tried to speak. “So let’s see if we can remain locked in a house together for nine more days before you agree to spend eternity with me.” He stopped her from speaking again. “You need to be completely certain, Julia, because once we pledge our troth, it’s forever.”

  She smiled against his finger. “Too late,” she whispered, gently clasping his face in her hands. “Forever started five weeks ago when you kissed me on the porch of the event planner’s cottage.”

  One of his brows arched. “Not the first time I kissed you?”

  “No, that one didn’t count because you were just trying to escape. But no one was holding a gun to your head the second time,” she said with a shrug, “so I decided to see if I couldn’t scare you away by blowing your socks off.”

  He rested his head against hers with a snort. “You definitely blew my pants off.”

  “Yeah, I did, didn’t—” Julia reared away at the sound of a throat clearing.

  “Excuse me,” Rowan drawled through the open window, standing with his arms folded on his chest and grinning at them, Dante and Micah peering past his shoulders, also grinning. “But could you not have waited until after we got that cantankerous beast in his stall before you healed—”

  All three men scrambled away just in time to avoid being run over when Phantom came charging up to the window and slammed into the house again as he drove his head inside and gave an ear-piercing whinny.

  “Maybe I should have waited,” Nicholas said with a chuckle. He braced his hands on the arms of the chair, and Julia scrambled to her feet and steadied him as he slowly stood up. “Can you boil some water for the oat mash?” he asked as they started out of the office. Only instead of turning to the kitchen, he lifted his arm from around her and grabbed the bathroom door casing. “I’ll just be a minute, and then I believe I’ll find out how comfortable my new couch is.”

  He stepped into the bathroom and looked around, softly chuckling when Julia rushed in behind him and started pulling her underwear she was letting air dry off the top of the shower stall. “I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get a woman to move in with me one panty and bra at a time,” he said as he picked up her hair conditioner.

  “Huh?” Julia said, plucking the bottle out of his hand.

  He picked up her toothbrush and handed it to her with a grin. “You might as well move your things upstairs.” He turned serious. “Because you live here now.”

  “But where’s Trisha going to live?”

  “With us.” He went back to grinning when her jaw dropped. “I had intended to set up the small room behind the office for my parents when they came to visit,” he said with a shrug, “but Trisha can have it until she heads off to college and when she comes home on holiday.” He gave a tired sigh. “It appears we’ll have to start the bedroom phase of construction sooner than I was anticipating.”

  Julia backed out of the bathroom and looked up the hall, which led . . . nowhere, just like upstairs. “Is that why both of your hallways stop at the back wall of the house?”

  He nodded, his grin widening as he dropped his gaze to her belly.

  She glanced toward the large dining table sitting just off the kitchen under the balcony, then looked at him again. “H-how many bedrooms are you planning to build?”

  He lifted gleaming eyes to hers. “I was thinking . . . six.”

  “You want six kids?” she squeaked.

  “Sons—six sons.”

  “Well, good luck growing a uterus,” she snapped, bolting down the hall.

  Holy Hades, that should teach her to be careful what she wished for!

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Julia stilled in surprise as she stared down at the notepad she’d been doodling on, then slowly set it on the couch and got up and walked to the hearth. “Will you explain to me why you don’t have a last name?” she asked, grabbing a log off the wood rack. “I mean, what about your adoptive parents? You said their names are Maude and Mathew, but don’t they have a last name?”

  Having opted for his giant recliner instead of the couch, Nicholas closed his book with a tired sigh and set it on the table beside his chair, still looking drained from healing Phantom—who was now happily munching hay in his stall in the garage. “Their surname would translate to White-Cloud,” he explained, sounding as tired as he looked.

  Julia set the log on the fire, then straightened in surprise. “But that’s . . . Are they Native American?”

  He nodded. “And since I don’t look anything like them, Titus suggested I go by only Nicholas to avoid constantly having to explain myself.” He snorted. “Mom’s real name is Lomahongva, which is Hopi for beautiful clouds arising, and Dad’s name is Chavatangakwunua. You can see why they settled on Maude and Mathew.”

  “But how come—wait. Hopi are a southwestern desert tribe. How did your parents end up in Atlan—on an island somewhere in the middle of the ocean?”

  “Atlantis,” he said quietly, “is populated with peoples from all over the world, each of the original settlers hand-chosen by Titus.”

  Julia set the screen back into place, glanced toward her notepad on the couch, then walked over to stand beside his chair. “Do you know who named you Nicholas? Was it your parents?”

  He appeared surprised by her question. “I seem to remember Mom saying Titus suggested it when he agreed to let them raise me. Why?”

  Julia shrugged. “No reason in particular. I was just wondering,” she said as she returned to the couch and sat down. She picked up her notepad again. “Can you tell me how you went from being Carolina’s bodyguard to your . . . other profession?”

  Keeping the footrest elevated because it was also holding three cats, Nicholas brought up the back of his recliner and grinned, apparently deciding they were finally having the talk. “Since I was growing bigger and stronger than any of the other boys my age, Titus began training me ri
ght alongside Mac. Then later, whenever Lina was tucked safely at home, he began sending me out as his . . . peacemaker. Our unspoken deal was he never asked how I got things done and I never volunteered any particulars. He trusted my discretion, and I trusted that he’d have my back if I ran into anything I couldn’t handle.”

  “So how come he didn’t have your back this time?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t have time to contact him. But the day you climbed out my bathroom window with a splat of red paint on your backside, Titus and Mac had come to the house to tell me trouble was brewing between the Teutonics and Romans, and wanted to know if I might be willing to go rescue someone who was in harm’s way if it became necessary.”

  “A woman?” Julia whispered.

  “No,” he drawled, “a child.”

  Julia returned his grin with a sheepish smile. “Of course. Um, you said Teutonic. Do I dare ask what century?”

  He lifted a brow. “Let’s just go with BC, okay?”

  “Works for me. So you went to save a kid who wasn’t even in trouble because it was really an ambush? Do you think you were the target, or Titus? Does he ever go himself?”

  Nicholas nodded, reclining his chair back and closing his eyes. “He and Mac handle most problems personally.” He shrugged again without opening his eyes. “But when they prefer to remain anonymous, they send me.”

  “So what’s your best guess after spending the last three days studying the brooch and reading the books that I can’t?” she asked, jealous of his ability to read so many languages, knowing those books might have the proof she needed to confirm her suspicion—which she was reluctant to share with him until he got his strength back. Because if what she’d discovered was true, Nicholas would hop on his healed horse and go galloping off to only God knew where. No, make that when. “Were you the intended target?”