by Bonnie Dee
He blew a breath. “I hardly know where to begin. Why don’t you tell me more about your world first and maybe we can piece together what might have happened.”
Aurora wrung her hands together. She felt restless. She needed to see every part of this place that until yesterday had been her home but was now a moldering ruin. “Let us walk as we talk. I feel too beside myself to sit still.”
“Sure. We can look around.” Joel did something with a small cylinder and a beam of light shot from it, illuminating the drawing room.
Aurora gasped at the display of magic. “You have wizarding skills?”
“What? This? It’s called a flashlight.” He flicked it on and off several times, then looked at her and murmured. “You really do act like you’ve never seen one before. All right. I’ll play along. It runs on a power source called batteries. There’s also something called electricity that lights, heats and cools our houses. You’ll see lots of machines these days that make work easier for people.”
“That is good. It is my understanding the peasants live hard lives.”
He offered her the metal cylinder and she shone the beam all around the room, up and down the walls and into every corner. But the sight depressed her. Then the light caught a mirror, reflecting her cloudy image back at her.
Aurora walked over to the wall and swept her hand across the glass, smearing the thick coating of dust. The mirror beneath was nearly ruined from the passage of time and barely showed her face in its spotty surface. The contrast between her face, which appeared perfectly normal, and the ancient mirror, which only yesterday had been highly polished, underscored the truth of what Joel claimed. Many years had passed since she’d pricked her finger on the spinning wheel and fainted.
A muddy version of Joel appeared in the glass beside her, a tall man with brown hair and kind eyes that gazed at her pityingly. He rested his hand on her shoulder, the warmth of his palm seeping through her gown and into her skin. “Don’t look so sad. I’ll find a way to help you. That’s what I’m good at—fixing things.”
She turned away from the looking glass to lead the way out of the room. They entered the main hallway, drafty and filled with drifts of leaves that had blown in from the courtyard.
“If the drawing room was my mother’s favorite place, his private office behind the throne room was my father’s. When he was finished holding court, he would retire there with his friend Lord Brandenbolt and smoke cigars until it looked like the room was on fire from the smoke billowing out beneath the door.” She smiled. “How Mother complained about the smell that permeated his clothing.”
“I don’t mind a fine cigar myself once in a while.” Joel glanced into the throne room as they passed. “And where did the princess spend her days?”
“I loved my garden best of all. It may have been walled, but I had the illusion of freedom when I strolled there. I’ll show it to you.” She was almost more afraid to see the ruin of her beloved garden than any other part of the castle. Her heart fluttered as she walked with Joel down a side corridor and through the door that opened into her garden.
It was a tangled wilderness. The ornamental trees had long since lived their span and toppled over. Weeds choked every flower bed, and an overgrowth of ivy or brambles covered most of the fountains and statues. The only beauty to be found was in the pink roses that grew in wild profusion among the brambles.
Aurora felt disoriented. Although she’d walked the paths of this patch of ground all her life, now she couldn’t even find her way to the gazebo where she’d spent so many days reclining on a divan and reading stories about faraway lands. Her throat constricted and her eyes burned, but she didn’t want to cry in front of Joel Thorne—not again.
“I guess there’s nothing to see,” she said bitterly and turned to walk back inside.
He took her arm, his firm hand supporting her elbow and reminding her of how it had felt when he touched her face and held her body. “Come on. We’ll sit down and talk. I have a flask of whiskey. I think you could use a shot.”
Aurora allowed him to lead her through the desolate place that had once been her home. She sat on the cushion he called a “sleeping bag” and watched Joel poke the little fire on the hearth. He added some more twigs and leaves and helped the feeble glow along with a magic wand he said was a “lighter”. It occurred to her a chimney that hadn’t been used in a thousand years might not be the safest conductor for smoke and sparks, but decided it didn’t really matter if the entire mausoleum of her lost life caught fire.
After he’d built up the fire by adding a few logs, he crouched by his bag and pulled from it a metal flask that he handed to her. “Just a sip. It’s pretty strong, but it will warm you up.”
Aurora thought of all her mother’s warnings about taking food or drink from strangers and what magic potions could do to a person. But could things get any worse if she suddenly sprouted a tail and horns or was put back to sleep for another thousand years? She took the flask and sipped at the liquid within. It seared her throat and set a fire glowing in her belly. She coughed and choked, and Joel patted her back.
“Easy now.” He took the flask back and sipped from it himself. “Tell me more about what happened to you in the tower, how you fell unconscious. Some event must have triggered that. Tell me about this, um, spinning wheel. Since it isn’t there now, someone must have taken the trouble to remove the evidence. Do you have any idea who would have wished you harm and had the power to…make a spell like this?”
Aurora leaned her head back against one of the cushions. “My mother hinted at something that happened at my birth or shortly after, but she was always vague. She never told me the exact reason she and my father were so concerned about my having contact with pointed objects.” She frowned. “I asked her many times. I asked my nursemaid and later my governess and any other servant I could cajole into gossiping with me, but they all shifted away from the topic every time I brought it up. It was almost as if they couldn’t tell me. I wondered if there was some kind of spell keeping them from telling me the truth, for certainly knowing why I was in danger could only have helped protect me from it.”
Among the memories flitting through her head as she spoke, one vision stayed with her, of one of her childhood birthday parties—or was it at several parties? Sitting by her parents as her godmothers made a fuss of her. They were delightful, charming creatures who always made her laugh, and whose very presence seemed to sparkle with magic. Aurora had loved them, had loved being with them, and so the contrast was all the greater when the other woman had arrived.
At the memory, Aurora lifted her head. “Valborga!”
Tall, beautiful, chilling, Valborga was her godmothers’ sister, who generally came to her parties too. But when Valborga arrived, the queen had seized Aurora’s hand as if to protect her, and Valborga herself had never done more than bestow a smile upon her that had iced her very bones.
“Perhaps Valborga cursed me. She’s a witch. Was a witch…? I always had the impression my parents invited her to the palace out of fear. Or perhaps they just couldn’t stop her from coming.”
Joel capped the flask of whiskey, drew his long legs up before him and clasped his arms around them. Aurora was struck by the oddity of his clothing down to his very shoes, which were nothing like any she’d seen before. If the dilapidated appearance of the castle weren’t enough to convince her that this was a different time, Joel’s apparel coupled with his unusual speech and manners were proof enough. Such strange things as the lighter, the flashlight and the sleeping bag sealed her belief. But from his tone of voice and expressions of doubt, especially now as she talked of Valborga, Aurora knew Joel didn’t believe she spoke the truth.
“I am not crazy, you know,” she said. “I did not simply wander in here and lie down to sleep.”
Joel hesitated. “In my world, there are stories of olden times, legends, tall tales, distortions of ancient history that may have once been believed as fact but are now told only to ent
ertain children. No adult believes in these fairytales.”
Again he paused, resting his chin on his knees and gazing at the fire. Aurora was struck by how the glow gilded his features and cast the hollows beneath his cheekbones and jaw in shadow. Her heart leaped along with the crackling flames, and her body tensed with attraction to this handsome man. How could she think of such a thing under the circumstances?
“So you think I’m telling you a child’s tale?” she asked, speaking a bit more sharply than she’d intended.
“No. I’m telling you that I’ve heard stories of such enchantments before, many years ago. At school, in a children’s picture book one of my teachers read aloud. I was in second grade. The teacher was Mrs. Donovan. She was nice, and I loved when she read to us. My mom wasn’t the kind who did.” He shrugged, looking embarrassed as if he’d said more than he’d intended. “The point is she once read a story about a princess cursed at birth. First she was given good gifts by fairies who’d been invited to her christening—beauty, health, a great personality, a marvelous singing voice and so on. But an angry, jealous fairy exploded into the midst of the ceremony and swore that on the eve of the child’s sixteenth birthday she would choke on an apple and die.”
Aurora leaned toward him, riveted by his voice telling part of a story she was well familiar with. She knew several magical guests, including her godmothers, had attended her christening and blessed her with good fortune, but the latter part of his tale, she’d never heard. It explained so much of why her mother had fussed over her and controlled every aspect of her life. Perhaps even why she’d felt the need to protect Aurora from Valborga.
“But she didn’t die,” Joel continued. “After the evil fairy left and while the princess’s parents and all the court were mourning this calamity, another good fairy stepped forward. She hadn’t yet bestowed her gift. While she couldn’t completely change what the evil one had ordained, she could alleviate it. Instead of dying, the princess would fall asleep until a prince came and kissed her.”
“That’s a horrible story! Who would tell a child such an awful, frightening thing, even if it was only meant to be make-believe?” Aurora frowned.
“I guess you’re right. Many of those old folktales were violent or frightening, but they all had a happy ending. And in this one the princess is kissed awake and lives happily ever after.”
“How?” she exploded. “How could anyone who’s been ripped from her family and thrust into the future ever find happiness?”
Joel unfolded his legs and stretched them out before him. “In the story as I remember it, the entire castle was put to sleep so everyone she loved was there when she woke.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I never really thought about how the princess might feel. As a kid, I pictured myself as the brave hero, fighting his way past dragons to get into the castle and rescue her.”
“You didn’t kiss me,” Aurora pointed out. “You poked me awake.”
He shrugged. “This isn’t a fairytale and I didn’t know what to make of you lying there like that. I thought maybe I should perform CPR.”
She had no idea what he was talking about. “So, if the story you were told as a child is at least partially true, all of this was pre-ordained and it was inevitable that a certain man should awaken me.”
“The entire thing is crazy,” he said. “I was thinking more that you probably heard the same story as a child, and maybe when you hit your head, you imagined yourself into it.” He must have seen her frown of annoyance, then, for he added hastily, “But even if it were true, I certainly wouldn’t be the hero of the piece. It was a complete accident I was here at all. I had some important decisions to make about my future, so I decided to take a break and do some hiking in the mountains.”
Aurora’s mind was in a whirl, trying to encompass the blurred line between reality and make-believe. Of course she believed in magic. It was an accepted part of the world she lived in. But to learn her entire life was predestined and had become fodder for a children’s story was too much to take in. As for the idea that she’d made up her own life story from the same tale, that was unthinkable.
One thought shone clear in her mind. “The fact you came here and found me when no one else has in a thousand years suggests you are the man the fairy foretold would come.” She met Joel’s worried gaze. “Maybe this is your destiny. Maybe it’s mine.”
His eyes widened. Tiny flames, perhaps a reflection of the fire, seemed to leap in them then darken in a way that caught at her breath. There was a connection…
Then his eyelids dropped like hoods. “I don’t believe in destiny,” he said harshly. “We make our own paths, good and bad.”
It didn’t matter. He was a stranger. Why should he want a shared destiny? Why should she? She didn’t, of course. He was too alien. So why did his denial feel like a slap in the face?
She couldn’t help the twist of her lip. “In all my life I never chose anything more important than the color of a gown. All my choices were made for me. Except the decision to touch the spinning wheel. Sometimes leaving it to destiny is best.”
“I don’t believe that. Of course other people’s decisions impact you too. In your case, your curiosity was provoked by your parents’ decision to overprotect you.” He dragged an impatient hand through his hair, almost as if he was angry, though with who wasn’t clear. “If any of this is real. Look, Aurora, let’s just get some sleep, and tomorrow, we’ll get clear of here and find a doctor. You take the sleeping bag and the cushions. I’ll be fine on the floor.”
Chapter Four
Joel’s eyes snapped open to darkness and raging lust. A woman’s light, sensual fingers caressed his balls, closed around his cock with a grip that was both inexperienced and arousingly eager.
Aurora? What the…?
Unmistakably, lips slid down the length of his shaft, depriving him of breath, never mind the warning words that flew out of his head as well as his throat. He shuddered. When her lips wrapped around the sensitive head, he nearly exploded. Too long without sex, too little ability to resist this unexpected assault on his senses…
Snap out of it, Thorne! You’re more than your libido!
Sitting bolt upright, he reached for her, drawing her caressing mouth off his cock with a pop that made him groan. Aurora smiled at him with all the beauty he remembered, plus a new siren-like quality that made him want to drag her under him and fuck her senseless.
Gripping her naked shoulders, he drew her closer. Mistake. She was totally nude, her flesh soft and warm and yielding to his touch. “You mustn’t,” he managed. “You’re not well.”
“I’ve never felt better. And neither have you.” She pressed closer to him, her soft, hard-tipped breasts pressing into his chest. He was naked too. When the hell had that happened? Her hands roamed up and down his back with eager appreciation.
“Make love to me, Joel. Take pleasure in me, every pleasure you want…”
“Don’t,” he gasped, but it was too late. Her mouth was on his, and it felt so good he couldn’t push her away. She grabbed his hand, pressing it to her breast. Her elongated nipple hardened even more under his palm, which moved without his permission, kneading and caressing. She moaned with such obvious pleasure that his lust raged out of all control. He pushed her back, flinging his thigh across her as she whispered words of encouragement in his ear.
“Oh, yes. Oh, Joel, I want you so much, I need you. Love me, love me…”
Her thighs were silken smooth, parting for him without hesitation. Between them was hot, welcoming wetness that soaked his probing cock. Her eyes stared into his, so clouded with lust that he knew beyond doubt she was no virgin in reality.
Screw destiny. He’d fuck her because they both wanted it. Lowering his head, he took her soft, luscious lips in his and pushed his cock slowly inside her hot, clinging pussy. It felt so good he couldn’t contain his groan of bliss. He should make it last for her, she was so sweet and sexy, and yet there was no way he could, not when she
was calling his name already.
“Joel, Joel…Joel!”
He wasn’t falling, yet he seemed to land with a crash. Now his eyes really were open. Aurora was gazing into them, but she wasn’t kissing or caressing him. Nor was she naked. Still in her silken ball gown, she was shaking him by the shoulder, her eyes both anxious and irritated. Absolutely not aroused. Unlike him.
Oh, fuck.
He yanked his hand away from his naked cock. Thank God he’d covered himself with his coat.
“What?” he said hoarsely. “What is it?”
“You sleep like the dead. Even when you’re having bad dreams.”
Bad dreams? Christ, no. Well, only in the sense of naughty. Smothering inappropriate laughter, he coughed instead. “Are you all right? Can’t you sleep?”
“Not really. But then I seem to have spent rather a lot of my life unconscious, so it isn’t really surprising. It’s getting light. I thought we could have an early start.”
Joel found it hard to look beyond her amazing eyes, not full of wicked desire as in the dream, but no less intriguing for that. Whether she was injured or insane or a product of impossible magic, he’d never met anyone quite like her. And he knew he wouldn’t just dump her at a hospital and go on his way. More than duty would keep him close to her. He wanted to know more.
“Are you actually awake?” she demanded.
“Yes, sorry,” he mumbled, taking in at last the pale dawn light seeping through the leafy window. “Good idea. I just need some coffee first. There’s a camp stove in my pack.”
Her fingers were unexpectedly clumsy as she rummaged inside his bag, as if she really wasn’t used to doing things for herself. Joel used the opportunity to surreptitiously refasten his jeans and try to reduce his raging hard-on by thinking about hospitals and long walks and swimming in ice-cold lakes.
Rolling onto his stomach, he took the little stove she produced from his bag with some doubt and lit it. By the time he’d made coffee, he felt back in control—and relieved that he hadn’t really taken advantage of the fragile creature in his care, tempting as she was.