“I’ll go and make you something to eat. Or make a bed up. Or something.” He backed quickly out of the room, leaving her confused. Didn’t he like her? Would he have preferred a modern woman?
“Thorn.” She called his name and he ducked his head back inside the bathroom but kept his eyes fixed on her face. “What’s wrong?”
He swallowed. “Nothing. Everything is perfect. Too perfect.”
She smiled at his boyish charm. “Would you help me with my dress?”
“Your dress?” He gulped and entered the bathroom. Was he a virgin? She never considered that Thorn might be saving himself for his mate, for marriage. Perhaps he had never seen a woman naked.
“Unless you are embarrassed?” She turned to face him. “If I make you uncomfortable…”
“No.” He coughed and deepened his voice. “No, not at all. I didn’t know if you were embarrassed.”
“Of my body?” Sure, she was curvy, even her long sleep hadn’t caused her to lose that much weight. It must have been like a prolonged hibernation, with her body almost shut down like a bear in winter.
“Of me looking at you. I thought women from your time liked to…”
“Liked to what?” Her voice was low and sultry. “Thorn Manning, are you blushing?”
“Emilia Dumas, I thought you would be a wallflower.” He leaned in, his lips inches from hers.
“Are you disappointed that I’m not?” she asked, her eyes dancing as he licked his lips and stared at her mouth.
“Not at all. I like a woman who knows her own mind and isn’t afraid to go after what she wants.” He placed his hands on her waist and turned her around, dropping a soft kiss on her bare shoulders while his hands worked on the ties that held the remains of her dress in place.
Emilia leaned back against him. This wasn’t how she usually behaved around men, but he intoxicated her. She might blame it on her long sleep and her lack of human company. Or she might have to admit she wanted him. Really wanted him more than she wanted gold and treasure.
As his hands slid around her waist, and he caressed the soft flesh her breasts, she tilted her head back and rested it on his shoulder. Thorn slipped his hand under her chin and angled her face upwards. Their lips met, and she sighed as he kissed her. He awakened more than the dragon in her, he awakened the woman.
Then she pulled away, a sudden thought hitting her. “I did not behave in such a way with Perry.”
Confusion covered him. “Perry?”
“Yes.” She placed her fingers on her lips, the heat from his kiss still lingered. “I was never…loose. I never led him on.”
Thorn frowned and then his expression cleared. “I never thought that. I realize his love for you was unrequited.”
“How do you know?” Emilia asked.
“His diaries. I’ve read them. Of course, I never expected to meet you in real life. But they gave me an insight into his feelings for you.”
She looked down at her hands, which were clasped together, as she fought to control her emotions. “I would like to read them.”
Thorn nodded. “Of course. He loved you a lot.”
A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, lifting her head to meet his eyes. “I know. I wish I had loved him in the way he deserved. But he wasn’t my mate and I refused to lead him on.”
“You could have had a good life with him.” Thorn had gone over the story so many times. Most women in that time would have grabbed ahold of Perry and not let him out of their grasp. He promised position and wealth. But Emilia had turned him down and paid the price.
“I could have. But it would have been a lie and he deserved better than that.” She smiled sadly. “Even after what he did, I still for him.”
“You are an incredible woman, Emilia.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I do, from his writing.” Thorn nodded. “Do you want me to finish undoing your dress?”
“Yes, please.” She turned her back to him. Even though she could rip the rest of the dress off, she wanted to preserve it as much as possible. As Thorn finished undoing the ties, she eased the dress off. “This was my mother’s. It was her favorite dress that she kept for special occasions.”
His fingertips trailed over her skin. “I’m sorry. You must miss her.”
Emilia held her chemise in place, not sure if it would fall apart, too. “She was already dead. Perry had no part in her death.” Touching his face with her fingers, she followed the contours of his face. “You are very much like Perry.”
“I don’t think I am.”
“Yes, you are. The same eyes, the same depth of emotions. Only this time it’s real.” She moved closer to him, wanting to feel the heat of his body. Sleep had been lonely.
“Emilia, you need time to process all of this.” He lowered his head, his tongue sliding out to moisten his lips.
“I’ve had so much time.” Slipping her hand over his shoulder, she pressed her body to his and pulled his head down toward her. Their lips met, a brief kiss that seared her lips. Maybe she had to remind herself this was real. Words were not enough. The betrayal at Perry’s hands had inflicted a deep wound on her soul that made it hard to trust.
Each time she touched Thorn, each time they kissed, it healed that wound just a little bit. Over time she hoped his love and the bond they shared would heal her completely.
“You should shower,” Thorn said, his voice rough with emotion.
“I should.” She stepped back from him. “Thank you.”
“For what?” His forehead creased as he watched her.
“Being patient.”
He nodded. “I don’t want us to rush into anything either one of us will regret. We have forever. Let’s take our time and enjoy it.”
“Right now, I am going to enjoy your shower.” Emilia held her hand under the running water. It was warm and inviting.
“I’ll be downstairs.” Thorn left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. She instantly felt the loss of his presence. For so long she’d been alone, unconsciously yearning for company. Man, or beast, she would not have cared.
A shiver passed through her despite the warmth of the bathroom. The water steamed up the mirror and hung in the air as she peeled off the rest of her clothes and set them down on a wicker chair in the corner of the bathroom. Padding barefoot back toward the hot stream of water, she put her right foot under the water and then tentatively set it down on the floor. Sliding the rest of her body into the small square enclosure, she shut the door and then stepped under the water. It cascaded over her head and soaked her body. Heavenly. She doubted she would find anything in this modern world to compete with a hot shower.
A giggle bubbled up inside her and erupted as she brushed her wet hair back from her face. As she rubbed her hands over her face, she remembered the promise of shampoo and soap. To her left, a wire shelf held various bottles including those Ruby had given her. Reaching for the first one, Emilia flipped off the cap and the smell of oranges and bergamot assailed her senses. She’d smelled the same scent on Thorn.
Looking at the bottle, she read the word shampoo and tipped some into her hand. Massaging it into her hair, she reveled in the soft silky suds. Even her mother’s homemade herbal soaps and shampoos were never this good. Ducking under the hot water once more, she rinsed the suds off and then washed it again, working up a good lather. After four centuries or more asleep, she could indulge herself just a little.
“What next?” Picking up another bottle, she read conditioner. The picture on the bottle was of a woman with smooth, untangled hair. If modern women used conditioner then so would she.
Next, she found a liquid soap for showers and washed her body. From head to foot she scrubbed until her skin tingled but at last as she stepped out of the shower and dried herself on a soft white towel, Emilia was certain she had washed away the dirt accumulated over the centuries.
Slipping into a dark blue robe made of the same fabric as t
he towels, she stood before the steamed-up mirror and wiped it dry, so she could look at herself. Not bad for an ancient dragon. Her complexion was clear, if a little pale, her lips were full and red and when she pulled her lips back, she was relieved to see her teeth had not blackened and decayed.
Forget-me-nots. Her mother had always said she had eyes the color of forget-me-nots, which she planted in their garden to remind them of their father. A lump of emotion welled in Emilia’s throat. She would never forget the people from her past. Her mother and their friends. The storekeepers in Bear Creek whom she visited to sell her wares. Honey from their beehives, excess vegetables from the garden. Anything to make their lives easier.
But they were happy. Only the fear of being discovered as a dragon shifter dented that happiness.
“Emilia.” Thorn’s voice and the accompanying knock on the door made her jump.
“Yes.” She pulled the robe tight around her neck and swung around to face the door, haunted by the residual memory of her father.
“Just checking that you were okay. I’ve made some vegetable broth. I thought it would be light on your stomach.”
She stepped toward the door on tiptoes and turned the knob, pulling the door open and peeking through the gap. “I have no nightgown.”
Thorn’s gaze dropped down to her body. “You’re fine like that. As soon as you’ve eaten we can find you something to wear to bed. I probably have a T-shirt you can use.”
“A T-shirt?” She raised her eyebrows.
“One of these.” He plucked at the stretchy shirt he wore. It looked comfortable, not a buttoned-up, stiff-collared shirt like those worn by the men in her past. Plus, the difference in height between Thorn and Emilia meant it would come down to her knees.
“Great.” She smiled awkwardly and then stepped out of the bathroom, her toes wiggling as they came into contact with the plush carpet. “So soft.”
“Carpet.” He gave her a sidelong look. “When you’re feeling better, I would love to sit down and listen to you tell me about life back then.”
“My life would be very drab compared to yours. No hot showers and carpets. We had to fetch water from the well and couldn’t even afford rugs for the floor of the cottage. Instead, we used dried reeds cut from the river bank.” Emilia looked down at the carpet, and then at the lights hanging from the ceiling. “This world of yours is so clean.”
“I’d still love to hear about yours.” He turned and walked toward the stairs and she followed. “I’ve always had a keen interest in history. Maybe because of my family’s links to Bear Creek.”
“Is that why you know about relics and antiquities?” Emilia inhaled, the smell of soup making her stomach gurgle. She could eat for a week and still not be full.
“Yes. I spent many hours reading the journals of Peregrine Manning and those who followed him. It seems his habit of writing a journal was passed down through my family.” He took her to the kitchen and pulled out a chair at the wooden table. She sat down, and he placed two bowls on the polished wooden surface and ladled soup into them both.
“Do you keep a journal?” she asked, picking up her spoon and dipping it into the thick vegetable broth. It was hot, and she blew on it before remembering her manners and setting the spoon down.
“Not hungry?” Thorn sat down across the table from her, picked up his spoon and went to ladle it into his mouth. “Do you feel okay?” he asked, his spoon hovering in the air.
“Okay. Yes. It’s hot.” Her mouth watered as the aroma tickled her tastebuds. She picked up her spoon again.
“Blow on it.” He blew lightly on his own soup.
She copied him, happy to learn she was not supposed to pretend to be something she was not. When she and Magnus first mixed with the upper classes, Perry insisted they learned etiquette. Neither Emilia nor Magnus enjoyed these lessons but if they were to navigate society and gain more commissions for Magnus to paint portraits, they had to blend in. Or at least not stand out.
However, when they were alone in their small cottage, they would leave etiquette at the door. Her favorite memories were of the two of them eating rice with their fingers after Magnus met a man from the Orient at Perry’s house. Emilia never met him, but according to Perry, the man, Chin-something, she could not recall exactly, had been all over the world. The only time Emilia had seen him from afar, Chin had looked at her in such a way her skin crawled.
“I lost you for a moment.” Thorn’s voice brought her out of her reverie.
“I have so many memories.” She looked down at her bowl, her appetite all but gone.
“Give yourself time.” Thorn cut a thick chunk of bread and handed it to her. “Here.”
“Thank you.” She took it and broke a piece off. Dipping it in her soup, she ate, forcing down each mouthful. Before she had eaten half a bowl of soup, she was full. “I’m not as hungry as I thought.”
“Your stomach probably contracted. Little and often and you’ll soon feel better.” He got up and cleared the table, while Emilia thought back to the man from the Orient. “I think I know who might have put us to sleep.”
The bowls clattered into the sink. “Who?” Thorn returned to his seat and took her hands in his.
“There was a man who came to stay in Bear Creek for a month or more before it happened. He didn’t like me. Not that he actually met me. But the way he looked at me. I believe he might have had something to do with the spell.” A sudden tiredness swept over her.
“Did you see him that day? The day you went to sleep,” Thorn asked gently.
Emilia shook her head. “The last person I remember was Perry. He told me he would keep me safe. Then I fell asleep.”
“Sleep is what we both need.” Thorn stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
Emilia followed like an obedient child, climbing the stairs wearily as her eyes grew heavy and each step harder. When they reached the top of the stairs, Thorn turned right and led her along the hallway to the second door on the right. “Here, I made the bed up for you.”
She stood in the doorway while he entered. “Am I not sleeping with you?” It wasn’t the sort of question a woman usually asked a man on their first meeting. But she didn’t want to be alone.
“I didn’t know what you preferred.” He spoke gently as he turned to face her. “This is new for me, too. I don’t invite women back to my house every day. And since you are my first, and only ever, mate and the first woman I’ve met from the seventeenth century, I didn’t want to offend you.”
“You could not offend me.” She looked behind him to the bed made up with fresh sheets, and then stepped backward. “I would rather not be alone.”
“I can understand that.” He walked toward her, and heat crept through her body. “This way.”
He reached for her hand and she followed him back along the hallway to the first door on the right. He opened it and reached in to switch on the light, revealing a large bed, more than big enough for two.
She let go of his hand and walked to the bed, pressing down on it. “So soft.” Turning around, she sat down and then lay down, resting her head on the mattress. “It’s like sleeping on a cloud.”
He chuckled. “Get under the covers. I need to use the bathroom.”
Emilia watched him leave the room, then lifted the covers and climbed beneath them. Even blankets were different, the bed warmed up quickly as if trapping the heat of her body beneath it.
“Here’s a T-shirt that should fit,” Thorn said as he came back into the room and pulled open a drawer.
She took it from him, tore off the robe under the covers and wrestled her arms into the T-shirt. He watched in amusement and then stripped off his clothes, leaving only his undergarments on to cover his dignity, then he slid under the covers.
Emilia lay back with her head on the pillow and the covers pulled right up to her chin. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The nearness of his body stirred the woman in her, but she was not
ready to make love to him. She held her breath as he turned toward her, his hand slipping across her stomach.
“Breathe,” he whispered in her ear.
She let out her pent-up breath, feeling like a stupid naive girl.
“Good night, Emilia.” He kissed her cheek lightly and then lay his head down on the pillow.
“Good night, Thorn,” she whispered, unsure how she would ever sleep with him so close. A flame burned for him, hot and needy, the temptation to turn to him and touch him, to show him how much she wanted him was almost too much.
Yet her eyes soon closed, and she slipped into sleep, her last thought was that she hoped she would wake in the morning and not in another century.
Chapter Seven – Thorn
He lay awake for hours listening to her breathing and hoping she would not fall back under the spell that had controlled her for centuries. How would he live if she didn’t wake?
Other thoughts haunted him. Mainly concerning his ancestor Peregrine Manning. What kind of man did that to a woman he loved? And Magnus, too. He’d been caught up in Perry’s jealousy and sent to sleep, too.
The same blood flowed through Thorn’s veins. Was there a weakness in the genetic make-up?
If there was, it is now broken, his bear told him.
How? Thorn asked.
You have shifter blood in your veins. Perry did not. His bear huffed at Thorn. Now sleep, tomorrow you will need your strength and a clear head.
For what? Thorn asked.
It is our duty to ensure Emilia and her treasure are safe. His bear settled down to sleep, resting his head on his large front paws and closing his eyes.
Thorn tried to do the same, but still sleep eluded him. Something about the whole situation bothered him. As he eventually drifted off the sleep, he realized what it was. The amulet. The dragon and runes carved into the surface to produce the barrier, which in turn fed off the Jewel of Avantar.
He’d heard of it before. Somewhere deep in his mind was the key to this puzzle, all he had to do was remember.
When the mid-morning sun flooded the room, he opened his eyes to the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Not the Negev Desert or the Kirkjufell Mountain could compare to the woman who lay by his side. With the back of his hand, he stroked her upper arm. Emilia stirred, and relief flooded him when she opened her eyes. For a moment she was lost in a sea of confusion but then awareness of him, of where she was, swept that confusion away.
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