Utterly Charming
Page 25
“Dammit, Sancho,” she said. “Can’t you show up during business hours?”
“These are business hours,” he said from the other side of the door. “In England.”
“I’m not in England. Come back tomorrow.”
“This is tomorrow.”
“You know what I mean.”
Outside the door, she heard the unmistakable sound of a chuckle. “That’s why you’re so perfect, you know.”
“Flattery won’t get me to let you in.”
“Come on, Nora,” Sancho said. “Aren’t you in the least bit curious why I’m here?”
He got her there. Through her exhaustion and her frustration, she had to admit curiosity. Maybe Blackstone had sent him.
Maybe pigs flew.
Maybe if someone cast the right spell on them, anyway.
She pulled the door open. Sancho came inside. He was wearing a velvet smoking jacket and a pair of matching trousers. “Aren’t you hot?”
“It’s cold in Australia,” he said. “It’s their winter.”
“You’re not in Australia. This is Oregon, or have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten a thing.” He pushed the door closed and walked toward the couch as if he were the one who lived here. Darnell, who had been sleeping in Emma’s room, came out and stared at Sancho.
“Is that Emma’s cat?”
“No,” Nora said. “It’s my cat. But it seems to have adopted Emma.”
“Mind losing it?”
“To Emma? Why should I mind? The damn cat screeches for her all night anyway.”
“Good,” he said and plunked down on the couch.
“You didn’t come here to ask me about a cat.”
“No, I didn’t.” He ran a hand over his brow. “You weren’t kidding. It is hot here. I thought the Northwest cools off at night.”
“It does. It was one hundred today.”
“Zowie.” He stood and removed the smoking jacket, revealing a tuxedo shirt beneath. For some reason all that velvet looked good on him.
“If you didn’t come for Darnell, then why are you here?”
“To see if you’ll go to Blackstone.”
It felt like a punch in the stomach. No one had spoken his name around her since the day after he disappeared. She’d had to clarify things for her mother and Jeffrey, who looked skeptical when she described Emma as the love of Blackstone’s life, and then Nora had gone into a self-imposed silence.
“If he wants to see me, he knows where I am,” she said, perching on her armchair. Sancho was hot, but she was too cold. Her robe was thin and she had the windows open. It had cooled down to at least fifty-five degrees, and a breeze was blowing that chilly air inside.
Sancho rolled his eyes. “He won’t come to you.”
“Then why should I go to him?”
“You still haven’t figured it out?”
“No,” Nora said.
“You’re his soul mate.”
“Right,” she said. “And you are the king of England.”
“No,” he said. “I was the king’s assistant.”
“If one considers Arthur a full king of England, and not king of a smaller kingdom called Camelot.”
Sancho’s eyebrows went up. “Blackstone told you that?”
“Parts of it.”
“And here I am now, acting like a matchmaker.” He shook his head. “How the mighty hath fallen.”
Nora rubbed her cold hands together. “Blackstone and I are as different as two people can be.”
“Oh?” Sancho asked. “You seem similar to me. You’re both strong personalities who act in the face of anything that comes your way. You’re dynamic and interesting and basically unflappable.”
“And I’m a mortal, and he’s not. I’m thirty-five and he passed that mark 986 years ago. He’s met everyone from King Arthur to Jimmy Hoffa and the most famous person I know is my soon-to-be ex-husband. He’s—”
“For a lawyer, you make terrible points,” Sancho said. “And you’re as bad at putting two and two together as Blackstone is.”
“What does that mean?”
“When you went to see the Fates, did they talk to you?”
“Of course.”
“But what did they say about your mother and her lover?”
“Her lover—?”
“Oh, stop. You’re not twelve. You knew that your mother’s been sleeping with this Chawsir fellow. You just haven’t wanted to acknowledge it.” Sancho leaned forward. “I think it’s true love, by the way.”
“Since when did you become a romantic?”
“Look up your Geoffrey of Monmonth. I’ve always been a romantic.” He leaned back. “What did the Fates say about your mother and her lover?”
“They said they were blathering.”
He nodded. “And you have cats. Your mother doesn’t.”
“What’s your point?” Nora snapped.
“You’ll find out after menopause.”
“Oh, shit,” Nora said. “You’re not implying I’m one of you.”
He grinned. “You do catch on then, after someone clubs you over the head with it.”
She put a hand over her eyes. She wasn’t sure she was willing to let the implications of what he had just said sink in. “Why is this relevant?”
“Because,” he said, “You and Blackstone aren’t as different as you think.”
“But he’s off living happily ever after with Emma.”
“Really?” Sancho said. “With little Emma?”
Nora’s heart rose for just a moment. “He’s not?”
“Come see for yourself,” he said and waved an arm. She caught it halfway up.
“I’m not going to see him dressed like this,” she said.
“So you’re coming with me?”
She sighed. What could it hurt? “Will this be a Dickensian visit? You know, like the Ghosts of Christmas Present?”
He grinned. “How did you know that was me?”
“I didn’t really,” she said.
“Those English writers,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “They always had to find a way to process their experiences.”
She stood. She’d had enough. “If you were the Ghost of Christmas Present, how come Dickens portrayed him as tall?”
Sancho shrugged. “Revenge? A bad memory? Political correctness?”
“In 1843?”
He stood too. “All right,” he said. “I’ll be honest with you, if it’ll make you stop haranguing me and get you out of that ratty robe.”
“It’s a nice robe.”
“It’s not as nice as your normal clothes,” he said pointedly.
She crossed her arms.
“I’m Andvari.” He said that as if she should know the name.
“That’s a relief,” she said. “I was beginning to think you were Rumplestiltskin.”
“No,” he said with a bit of irritation. “My name is Andvari. That’s the name I was born with. Andvari.”
“So?”
“Don’t they teach Norse myths in school anymore?”
“I don’t know about anymore,” she said, “but twenty years ago, they taught mostly Greek and Roman myths.”
“Blatant discrimination,” he said. “The Norse say that I was forced to give up my horde of gold and the magic ring that created it to Loki as payment to Otter’s father for Otter, whom Loki had slain. I got a bit pissed, so I put a curse on the ring. There’s more that has to do with dragons and gold piles, but that’s the essence of it all.”
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“The myth?”
He shrugged. “I was bad-tempered when I was young.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what I should believe anymore.”
“I haven’t lied to you,” Sancho said. “Not once. Come with me to see Blackstone. Then you can make up your mind about him.”
“One more thing before I go,” she said. “Did he charm me?”
“So he could keep an eye on me while he guarded Emma’s coffin.”
“Baaaaaad idea, which is what I told him at the time,” Sancho said. “He should have been in Hawaii or Iceland or somewhere else remote so that he wouldn’t lead Ealhswith to you or Emma, but he didn’t listen. He wanted to be close to you.”
“You are so full of it,” Nora said.
“I may be,” Sancho said. “But I’m not lying. And I’m tired of standing around.” He snapped a finger. Suddenly she was warmer. She looked down. She was wearing a black jacket with tasteful beaded embroidery running along the side, a pair of matching black pants, and black pumps.
“These aren’t my clothes,” she said.
“Consider them a gift,” he said and waved his arm. Before she could catch it, he swung it all the way around. One minute she was in her apartment, and the next she was in Quixotic’s kitchen.
She had to duck as a china plate whizzed by her and smashed against the wall. Blackstone was standing slightly to her side. He had his arms crossed and a bemused expression on his face.
Emma had grabbed another plate and was about to throw it. Sancho took Nora’s arm and moved her behind one of the stainless steel tables.
“Can they see us?” Nora whispered.
“Of course we can see you,” Blackstone said. He still hadn’t looked in their direction.
“Do not speak for me!” Emma said as she lobbed another plate at him. He stepped to one side as the plate flew past and shattered against the wall. There was a large pile of broken china behind him.
“Are you going to keep throwing until you hit me?” he asked.
“Perhaps I will continue even after that!” she said and threw another plate. It sounded like a gunshot as it exploded against the wall.
“Then you’ll owe me the cost of the china,” he said.
“I owe you nothing!” she yelled.
“What’s going on?” Nora asked.
“I think it’s Ealhswith’s influence,” Blackstone said.
“It is not!” Emma shouted, picking up another plate. “It is you! You who treats me as if I am a common—wench!”
She threw the plate on that last word, and Blackstone stepped in the other direction. The plate slammed against the wall but did not shatter. It landed on top of the china shards and rolled off them, spinning as it hit the floor. It continued to spin for a moment, and then it shattered, as if in regret.
“I am treating you like a modern woman,” Blackstone said.
“He has commanded me to slave in his kitchen!” she said, reaching for another plate.
“I’m trying to teach you a skill so you can pay your own way,” he said.
“I am not to pay my own way. Well-bred women do not work!”
“In this century they do,” Blackstone said. “Tell her, Nora.”
Nora suppressed a grin. She’d had arguments like this with Emma, although never one that came to blows. “Oh, no,” Nora said. “You’re on your own.”
“Merlin!” Emma shouted.
Sancho raised his head just slightly above the table. “Yes, milady?” he said with so little sarcasm that only Nora seemed to catch it.
“Take me out of here!”
“Never to return?” he asked, a bit too gleefully.
“Never to return,” she said, stamping her foot. “I will not be anyone’s wench, whether it is ordained or not!”
“I’m not sure it was ordained,” Sancho said. Blackstone turned to him.
“You know the prophecy,” he said.
“Of course I do,” Sancho said. “I’m just not the one who misinterpreted it.”
Nora frowned at him. Blackstone tilted his head, as if he were remembering something.
Sancho lifted his head higher above the table. “Milady, if you take your hands off the plates, I’ll get you out of here.”
Emma had already picked up another plate. She weighed it in her small hands before setting it down again. “Take me away now!” she said.
“Your wish is my command, milady,” Sancho said, walking toward her, his hands raised as if he were the bad guy in a spaghetti western. “I only hope Amanda doesn’t get as pissed as Nora does when she’s awakened in the middle of the night.”
He waved a palm over Emma, and together they disappeared.
Blackstone sank against the steel table beside him. He ran a hand through his hair, then looked at the destroyed dishes. “Lord, what a mess. What’ll I tell my staff?”
“The truth?” Nora said as she stood. Her knees cracked. She had been in that position a long time.
“How much of it?”
She shrugged. “Practice on me.”
He looked at her. His entire expression softened. “I missed you,” he said.
She wasn’t going to give in that easily. “You had Emma.”
“Emma.” He glanced at the spot where she had been. “Emma hasn’t acknowledged how angry she is about losing a thousand years. Emma still blames me for that.”
“Surely soul mates can overcome that,” Nora said.
He sighed. “If Emma and I were soul mates, why was I thinking of you the entire time I was with her?”
Nora’s heart started to pound. “The grass-is-always-greener syndrome?”
He shook his head. “I waited for Emma for a thousand years.”
“But you didn’t remember her.”
“No,” he said. “And I had no idea her temper was this bad.” He walked to the side of the kitchen and grabbed a broom.
“Why not use magic on that?”
“And waste it?” he asked. “It all takes a slight toll. I’d rather use magic on important things.” He picked up a dustpan and crouched, starting to sweep.
Nora crouched beside him. “It’s easier if you pick up the big pieces first.”
She demonstrated, delicately lifting the main section of that last plate and cupping it in her hand. Then she picked up other pieces that were just as big.
Blackstone set down the broom and followed her lead. He leaned close to her, and she inhaled, letting the scents of leather and his own exoticness overwhelm her.
“What’s the prophecy?” she asked.
“The one Sancho says I misinterpreted?”
“You can call him Andvari. It’s okay.”
Blackstone whistled. “Such control he gave you. His real name. Do you know what kind of magic there is in someone’s real name?”
“Like Aethelstan?”
He grinned. “I always wondered why I told you my real name that day and not the Alex that I’ve been using for centuries.”
“What’s the prophecy?” she asked again.
“We all get one,” he said, dumping his handful of broken glass in a nearby garbage can. “Mine was—” and then he spoke Greek.
At least, it sounded like Greek.
“How about in English?” Nora asked as she dumped her shards into the garbage can. Then she turned. Blackstone had his eyes closed.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m blinder than a dead wombat,” he said.
“That’s the prophecy?”
“No, but it may as well be,” he said.
“So what was it?” she asked. “In English.”
He cleared his throat and sat on the floor. “At the end of the first millennium AD—not that it said AD since we have a different timekeeping method than mortals, but that’s what it meant—”
Nora sat beside him. He took her hand.
“—you will meet the woman who will show you your destiny.”
“That doesn’t say anything about soul mates,” Nora said.
He shook his head
. “You don’t understand,” he said. “All of our prophecies are about love.”
“All of them?”
He nodded.
“Was your Greek bad, then?”
“No,” he said. “I was twenty-one. I guess I was thinking with the wrong part of my anatomy. And Ealhswith took advantage of that.”
Nora squeezed his hand. It felt so good to be beside him. She had missed him too. “So what destiny did Emma lead you to?”
He raised his eyes to hers. “You.”
Nora smiled. “Surely there’ve been other women—”
“Not like you think,” he said. “No one I’ve ever really loved. I’ve been concentrating on Emma.”
“But how can you be sure that your destiny is me?”
“Simple.” He put his other hand on her cheek and rubbed her lips with his thumb. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met because of Emma. And from the moment I saw you, I wanted to be beside you.”
“You’re beside me now,” Nora whispered.
“I’m going to stay here,” he said. “Forever.”
And then he kissed her, a long, slow, lingering kiss that warmed her all over. She leaned into it, slipping her free hand into his hair. It was as thick as she had thought it would be. He tasted better than she could have hoped, and when their lips finally separated, she felt slightly disoriented, surprised. She had never felt like that before, not after a simple kiss.
“Forever’s a long time in your world,” she said against his mouth.
“Our world,” he said.
“You haven’t asked me if I want forever,” she said.
He threw his head back and laughed. “A modern woman, with her own life. Here I was, trying to remake Emma into you.” He seemed to catch himself and put a finger beneath Nora’s chin. “Do you want forever?”
She shook her head, and that stricken look she was coming to recognize flitted through his eyes. He barely caught it, tried to mask it, his features becoming smooth.
Then she grinned at him. “I doubt forever will be long enough.”
He laughed again, wrapped his arms around her, and eased her onto the floor.
“Be careful of the glass,” she said, before she realized that they were in her bed, with Squidgy staring down at them in baffled surprise from the headboard. Darnell howled downstairs.
“One more thing,” Nora said as Blackstone’s fingers found the pearl buttons on the jacket Sancho had given her. “Will you send Darnell to Emma? He’s miserable without her.”