To Eternity (7 page)

Chapter 7

Dressing for their Bonfire Night dinner on the 5th of November seemed an activity both familiar, yet also recalled from the distant past. Tonight, Magnus discovered his trouser waistband was a little loose. No doubt he needed a new dinner suit. He glanced to the jacket on the hanger. The lining, too, didn't please him. The lime green satin, patterned with brown circles, no longer spoke of sophistication. He should go back into the local town to pick up the new jacket he'd ordered. In fact, he might order a complete new wardrobe.

Sian would forgive him his lack of current fashion sense as she had forgiven him in matters far more complex. She hadn't fled at his confession of what he was, and even though she'd not hidden her natural fears at the prospect of facing “the beast,” she'd listened and accepted him.

Since that day, he'd done all he could to convince Sian that no matter what, she was and would always be his love.

Now there was the problem in a nutshell.

His reflection wavered in the ancient mirror as he tweaked to straighten his bow tie, and once more, he examined the options concerning Sian. He couldn't give her up, such a course was impossible, but nor could he yet face taking the step to make her like him for eternity. She deserved choices, needed the time to experience more of the world, of life as a young woman without the burden of centuries to consider, and the trials of transforming to wolf-form with all the needs the creature demanded, satisfied once a month. She must have the chance to leave him, if she wished.

No experience had yet stolen her faith in the future. He'd not be the one to inflict that loss on her.

“I'm afraid you'll have to accept my word for now and have a little patience for what you think you desire.” Her reaction would be familiar if he said those words to her tonight. The involuntary expression she was unaware she made and her wide appealing gaze would caress him. If he didn't take care, she'd wheedle a promise of further discussions on the subject.

He no longer smiled as he set the silk cummerbund around his waist.

By making her wait, he risked losing Sian forever. He had to accept the possibility. The thought of her loss chilled his heart, but he had no right to demand more of her. Though she might believe she'd be willing to give him everything, he'd no wish to live with her bitter recriminations a hundred years hence if it turned out she wasn't. They had years until the decision might become imperative to slow her aging. Somehow, when the filming was completed, he would take her mind from the worries that belonged in the future.

He pulled on his dinner jacket and shrugged his shoulders to make sure there were no wrinkles in the fabric.

No wonder Sian seemed tense at present. What with the discovery of his possible relationship to Martha Raynalds, the vile intrusion of Gorsewell into her dream, and all the preparations for the filming, she'd a lot on her mind. Her understanding of him as the wolf must also take a toll. Not many individuals could assimilate such knowledge without it twisting their opinion of him. Experience had taught him that much.

Tonight's entertainment would take her mind from some of her concerns, perhaps. When they retired this evening, he'd do his damndest to use pleasure to blot everything from her thoughts. He pulled on his wristwatch, six-forty. There'd be time for a glass of sherry before dinner. The door to her tiny dressing room remained closed, and he'd no doubt she'd stay in there until he left their room.

“I'll meet you in the yellow drawing room,” he called before he made his way out to the stairs.

* * * *

Sian squinted into the mirror, trailing her eyeliner along one lid. She double-checked, then swapped closed eyelids and did the other. The effect hit the spot she wanted. She'd not worn her evening face while she'd been at the house with Magnus. They'd both preferred to dine casually each evening. What with the preparation she'd done for the first transformation, and then the second, along with their discussions about the ongoing renovations to the house, the search for suitable antiques, there always seemed something to occupy them. Dressing in her best for dinner tonight would be a fun alternative. Even if she'd have to swap her heels for Wellington's when they went to the firework display.

The gown she'd picked hung on a hanger on the door. Nothing too glitzy, nor her favorite leather dress, were right this evening. Tonight she wanted feminine with a bit of
umph
behind it. Too much time sloping around the house in jeans and T-Shirts, so easy to fall into that trap. Magnus, when she first called at the house, had worn flannels and his brass-buttoned blazer with a crisp white shirt and a cravat. A retro look she loved, but he'd succumbed to her influence with the jeans. Once this week was over, she'd talk to him about it. He didn't have to wear jeans to convince her of anything.

She smiled. One of the funniest things had been the day she came back here for the second time. After the glances he'd given her tutu and leggings on her first visit, a week later for their next appointment she'd worn her best cashmere business suit in an effort to impress. But when he opened the door, he'd been wearing jeans. A softness warmed through her, followed by the glow of desire at the recollections. Her business suit hadn't lasted long. The extremely expensive trousers ended up on the floor of the pagoda along with his jeans. That day, the dreams lived.

God, they had been good together right from the start. She smeared on some lip-gloss and grimaced to make sure it hadn't gravitated to her front teeth.

They needed to talk about so many issues. With the big problem of his longevity and her wish to become like him looming over them, their day-to-day conversations didn't focus on small points. Slipping into the dress, she hooked up the front of the corseted bodice. Cost a darn fortune, this dress, from one of her favorite designers, but it was worth it, because it made the most of her assets. She'd worn it to the award ceremony in January and turned heads, not bad in A-list company.

She stepped into her heels. Though Magnus hadn't said, she'd picked up he liked them. Each time she'd worn the crimson patent stilettos, he'd spent a great deal of time focused on her footwear. Tonight's gift for him, her heels, was a starter, at least. Somehow, she'd say sorry properly for being a bit crazy the other day about the Martha Raynalds revelation. She shouldn't have jumped to the usual conclusions. There wasn't anything to be jealous about in him having a brief relationship with someone seventy years gone.

He hadn't cheated on her.

The hurt came because she wanted him, not just wanted to screw him. Though she'd be happy to treat him to a weekend of love-making in her flat in London, she wanted so much more.

Tonight she'd apologize, tell him she forgave him for dropping his bombshell of news, and she'd do enough to make certain the only woman on his mind was her. She hoped.

Bonfire Night was special, had always been a night to look forward to when she was little, before her mother got ill. Every year they'd gone to Bonfire Night parties or to the big displays in the parks in Bath. Once she'd moved to London, the parties and the displays got bigger and better.

A piece of normality for her and a reminder for Magnus of the fun activities the year offered. She clipped on the pearl earrings that had been her gran's. The creamy gems gleamed with a fabulous richness.

One last glance in the mirror. Yeah, she looked good. Maybe later, after the fancy dinner, she'd convince Magnus it was all going to be okay. Somehow, she had to do that more than anything else.

She made her way down to the drawing room and paused at the small portrait of his parents, as she did each time she walked the long corridor. The proud faces, the medieval pose and demeanor, made her wonder if she might have ever connected with this couple. Why did they leave their son alone when he wasn't much more than a boy? Magnus had never said, but he'd needed them. Surely, times were different back then in a way people wouldn't understand now. She certainly didn't. “Not giving any secrets away tonight, are you?”

The pair remained as inscrutable as ever.

She strolled on and into the drawing room. “Oh, my, you look wonderful.”

“Thank you. A stunning gown. You are beautiful.”

She smiled and moved across the room to join him. “I'm glad you like the dress.”

“Sherry?”

“Please.”

He poured her a glass from the decanter on the sideboard and handed it over. “It's not the dress—it's you who are beautiful.”

She sipped from the small nineteenth century glass before giving him a light kiss on the jaw. The lippy didn't mark his cologne-scented skin. “I'm looking forward to dinner tonight. From what I gather, it will be a sumptuous meal.”

“I believe so. I don't understand what has prompted the culinary experimentation, but I'm sure we shall be the beneficiaries of all the work.”

She laughed. “Perhaps the ladies want to show off a little.”

“Yes.” The haunted look flashed in his eyes. “I rarely give them the opportunity to do that.”

“Exactly. So tonight we shall enjoy a wonderful meal.”

“Do you think they mind?” he asked.

“Mind cooking?”

“No. Do you think it disturbs them that I don't have guests?”

She shook her head. “I doubt they've thought about it before now. It's always been that way. Me being here has kind of shaken things up a bit.” She flashed him a smile.

Magnus slipped his arm around her waist. “I am most thankful for your presence.”

She slid her arm about his hip and squeezed. “I'm glad about that.” She glanced to the clock. “It's just seven. They will be waiting for us, so I suggest we go, but before we do, I want to say sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Yes, I was an absolute—” She puffed out a breath. “Yea, I was stupid to react the way I did about your news. I'm sorry.”

“I was clumsy. It won't happen again.”

She shook her head, sidling closer to him. “No, it was my fault. You see, I sometimes forget the timescale you work on. Next time I'm about to have a hissy fit, I'll make myself count to a thousand.”

His lips moved in the start of the smile she loved. It grew like warmth when the sun appeared from behind a gray cloud and rose up to light his eyes. “Would it help if I promised to kiss you until you reached your count of a thousand?”

“Maybe.”

“We shall forgive each other and be gentler with our love.”

“Agreed.” She took another sip of sherry. “But not too tender, Magnus. There has to be a little bite.”

His expression froze, and he gave a quick shake of his head as though disturbed by her words.

“What's wrong?”

“Forgive me, my thoughts quite escaped me.”

Uncertain if she'd understood him, she looked into his soul-drinking eyes. Though his skin was firm and lined little, his eyes betrayed the depths of his experiences. They showed a wealth of sorrows. Yet as the gray pools sucked her in, they changed so they looked like mountain water streaking over pebbles.

“Sometimes you manage to take me quite far away,” he said.

“Good. You need to get out of the house more.”

He laughed and linked his arm through hers. “Shall we dine?”

Chapter 8

Languid after their extensive meal, they nestled in the back of the car on the short drive to the cricket club. Magnus, his arm around Sian, caught a few smiles in the rearview mirror from the taciturn mechanic, Monty.

Perhaps he should speak with his few staff regarding their speculation. They appeared to have become a group of romantics. He smiled as he helped Sian out of the car.

“There's the gate. Here, I'll pay the entrance fee tonight,” Sian said.

“If you so wish.” He glanced at the tall bonfire, and after she paid the donation, accepted her arm laced through his.

“We can get a glass of mulled wine, sweet toffee popcorn if you want. The fireworks are due to begin in about five minutes.”

Her infectious excitement raised his smile. “I haven't tasted mulled wine in an age.”

Sian led him through the scent of wood smoke from the bonfire. Beyond the fire, the aroma from the hot dog van grew stronger, the smell of fried onions, too, and farther on, a stall selling cinnamon doughnuts laced the air with toasted sugar.

“Oh, Magnus, look. Candy floss.” Sian pointed to a stall where the bright pink confection on sticks shuddered in the breeze.

“Would you like some?”

Her smile curved her cheeks. “Please. Don't you like it?”

He shook his head. “I'd prefer to buy it for you. We'll get some in a bag, rather than on a stick, so it doesn't blow away, and then we'll find a spot to stand to get a good view of the fireworks.”

They did. Ten minutes later, as Sian finished the last of the fluffy, pink candy, and he sipped a glass of warm mulled wine, the first rocket soared into a clear, dark night sky as though it wanted to reach the farthest stars.

The small crowd of on-lookers responded to each element of the display, children yelled and their parents exclaimed. Sian stood with her back pressed against him, close in his embrace. He rested his chin on her shoulder. A contentment of sharing this experience with her mellowed his usual concerns at being at such a public event.

The other people offered no sidelong glances and asked no questions. Here, no one knew or guessed his name and lineage. Perhaps Sian was right, and he should take the opportunity to leave the house more frequently. The world had changed a great deal. Rumor of what he was might no longer provoke a threatening mob as it had in his youth.

He relaxed. Together, he and Sian stood in the same way many couples did, cuddled close, arms entwined, their heads together as the fireworks crackled into the cold night. He'd no doubt the couples around them loved, old or young, newly-wed, or those who'd been together for years. They loved with the knowledge they were free to do so.

A freedom denied to him and the woman he wanted. He could offer her a snip of happiness, followed by the bitter taste of increasing loneliness if she became like him. Any attempt at an ordinary existence could only be doomed to failure. If he did as she wanted and shared the werewolf curse with her, he would condemn her to days as a she-wolf. Such an existence would hurt her, destroy her joy in life, and it would all be his fault. If she accepted an eternity with him, her friends and colleagues would age, fade and die, but she would remain untouched by the years. Yet each month, she'd suffer the torment of the moon's savage spell. How could he offer her such a thing?

He inhaled Sian's subtle fragrance. A fierce need for her bloomed, not just for this night, or the next, but for all the nights there were or could ever be. This was his woman, his mate. He squeezed her tighter and met her gaze as she tilted her head.

The whoosh of a large rocket drew her attention. “Look!” She caught her breath. A chest-thumping roar shook him at the explosion of thousands of tiny blue sparkles that dissolved into bright cerise blooms.

“So beautiful,” she said as the last floated down.

He nodded. For the first time since they'd met, he'd discovered her true power over his body and soul. She believed in him as a person. To Sian, he wasn't the beast, or a rich man in need of sensual body satisfaction. He'd known admiration for his strength, for his wealth, for his home, for his prowess, and even Julia's sweet gifts had offered him tenderness, but Sian eclipsed them all. The light of her love warmed him and wouldn't let him hide. For her, he must be more man than he'd ever been before. While they were here, there could be no room for such meanderings of the mind though, since her ability to pick up his thoughts was growing daily. This night, he would concentrate on the present alone. They would love like the couples around them, bound by this simple experience to remember.

The last of the colors faded into swirls of smoky mist. “I'm so glad we came tonight,” she whispered, her breath warm against his throat.

“Yes,” he said, aware of how she'd chipped away another chunk of his disguise built with such care over so long. At its simplest, Sian wished for them to live in the same way as those who stood around them tonight. A fresh batch of fireworks erupted, screaming into the night. Sian lifted her gaze to the sky. Incandescent streams of silver and gold, shot through with brilliant blue, wove a path to hide the stars.

She tilted her head so she faced him. He brushed a stray strand of hair from across her lip and placed a gentle kiss there as the magnificent display ended. Together, like others around them, they slowly moved in the misty, gunpowder-scented night. He linked his arm through hers. They ambled back to where Monty stood by the car. Magnus helped Sian into the back seat. He joined her and gave a nod to Monty.

Sian rested her head on his shoulder, relaxed and quiet. He gazed out the window as the dark countryside slipped by. If he had any courage at all, he ought to return her to the life she knew before they met. No other course was humane or compassionate.

“Magnus,” she whispered. She angled her face so her lips could press against his.

“Yes?”

“You do understand, even if you send me away, I'll want to come back to you?” Her words caressed his jaw.

He sucked in a breath. Private thought might have become a thing of the past, certainly when they were physically close, but that didn't stop him cursing his stupidity for allowing his thoughts to dwell on their future. The perfection of her in his embrace, the sensation of hope, the prospect of harmony and peace together, he couldn't bear it. He edged back from her. “You accept I have lived a long life?”

“Yes.”

“You accept I am different from others?”

She nodded, smiled.

He glanced to the driver, glad Monty's presence made further discussion difficult. “Then, please forgive my musings?”

Her smile grew, and she kissed him again, her lips soft as a moth's wing on his skin. “Of course, Magnus, at least until we are home.”

* * * *

Monty stopped the car by the front door. “Good evening, sir, miss,” he said, a little gruff as always. He held the door for them as if he'd been a chauffeur his life-long.

“Thank you, Monty, I'm grateful.”

“You are most welcome, sir.” A twinkle lit the watery blue eyes.

He led Sian into the portico, swept her up in his embrace, and held her there so the green Wellingtons could slip off. Still holding her tight in his arms, he carried her indoors where he set her down to remove her coat. He took off his own as she pulled off her scarf.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening, Magnus.”

“I should thank you. I'd never have thought of going to Stonewells for the firework display. See how you brighten my life?”

She laughed.

“I'm serious,” he said, catching her around the waist. “You have no notion how much you mean to me.”

“Really?” she whispered, as he pulled her a little closer.

“I swear on all you may believe to be holy.”

“Show me,” she whispered.

He sucked in a deep breath. “You have my promise I will, every moment from now until dawn, if you'll allow me.” He swept her up into his arms.

“Please, Magnus.” She put her arms around his neck.

He took the stairs one at a time, enjoying the light glowing in her eyes, the softness of her gaze, and his anticipation of her skin against his. In their bedroom, he placed her on the bed, turned to the hearth, and in no haste, started to strip off his clothes. He looked over his shoulder at a creak from the bed. “No. Wait. Please, let me help you. I'll undress you.”

The pupils of her eyes dilated fast, and he smiled. Tonight, he wanted her to enjoy him, all of him. Each pleasure he could give would delight her. By using his control, her lassitude would give him all the time he needed.

Naked, he lay down beside her, kissed her silken lips, and listened to her gentle breath in response. She lay languid in his embrace in a way he'd not seen before. He slid the pearl clip from her hair, then placed it on the bedside cabinet. Her gaze followed his every movement as he moved down the bed to smooth his fingertips over her feet, her ankles, and up to her knees. Silky hosiery. He smiled as he touched the warmth of her skin above the stockings, never tights. Should he leave them on? Or not? He moved his hands back down her leg, pleased by the little tremors in her muscles. “Sit up for a moment. I'd hate to spoil your gown.”

She complied.

With the care of a lady's maid, he unclipped the corseted bodice. He slipped the dress from her shoulders down to her waist. All the time her gaze stayed on him. “Lie down now,” he said.

She lay back down and careful not to tug the delicate fabric he slid the gown from her.

Her underwear tonight, pearl white, accented with two tiny pink flowers, was so virginal, yet her nipples peeked from the half-cup bra, demanding his attention. He stroked his tongue in the valley between her breasts. Her small whimper encouraged him. Pushing the silky fabric down with his thumbs, he revealed the puckered areola and proud nipple of one breast. He unclipped her bra as he nuzzled closer to take it between his lips. Sian sighed as he caressed her smooth skin. He stroked her hip and thigh as he licked, sucked, and nibbled, awaiting her first moan of pleasure.

She pushed up to press harder against his fingers when he stroked the damp silk fabric of her panties.

“Oh, yes.”

He smiled at the needy whimper, then moved across to her other nipple. He took it into his mouth and sucked so hard she groaned.

Wonderful.

Sian lifted her hips farther from the bed in an effort to chase his hand. He returned to caress the tender skin above her stocking tops, but didn't as much as graze the fabric of her underwear.

Her breathing quickened in response to him suckling and stroking. The rise and fall of her murmurs told him the level of her arousal, but he wanted more from her, a lot more. He released her nipple and lifted up to look into her eyes. “I want you to relax for me. Close your eyes.”

She lowered her lashes. Her long sigh warmed his cheek. He slipped his arms around her and drew her closer still. Electric sparks of delight flittered on his skin at her touch.
Exquisite.
Angling his head, he pressed his mouth to hers, then teased with his tongue until she opened her lips to suck his inside the moist heat of her own.

Tonight, he would share an experience with her beyond the here and now. They would dream together. He held her close, allowing his consciousness to waver from the room. They lay on the bed, but stood elsewhere, too. The sensation of presence flittered back and forth. The embroidered silk coverlet, Sian, fragrant and warm in his arms, and yet music drifted nearby, the sweetness of violas beckoned. Sian remained enfolded in his embrace as he moved toward the call of violins.

A waterfall of satin encased her, silk shirt and breeches him. Her lips warm on his still, he opened his eyes.

The ballroom wavered for a moment before each mirror, each glimmering candle-laden chandelier, stilled and solidified to a reality of sorts. Sian broke their kiss. “Magnus?”

“Stay with me?”

“Forever. For as long as you want me to.”

He smiled and the music swelled as if in response. “So beautiful,” he said and placed a kiss on the pale skin of her inner wrist. “Dance with me?”

“Of course.”

Snowy white rosebuds nestled in her hair. Tiny ringlet curls wavered, and the thick brandy-shaded strands made intricate twirls. A tiny lace choker graced her neck, and the square neckline of her gown, also trimmed with lace, enhanced her décolletage. A heavy satin skirt flowed to her ankles. Her satin shoes matched the roses in her hair. He led her in the elaborate, slow steps of a minuet. Faultless, she moved with him. Each graceful line of her arm, the arch of her neck—a dream-enhanced perfection to please the eye.

Their reflections twirled with them, seeming to fill the room with other dancers, each version of Sian a beauty who would steal his soul.

Ah,
my
soul.
Will
I
keep
any
vestige
of
it
once
this
night
is
done?

Together they danced; a couple alone, yet surrounded by themselves. Starlight beckoned through the open doors so he led her onto the terrace. The crescent moon shone on the lake. He took her into his arms, pressing a kiss to the coral-rouged lips.

Reality slipped again. Skin to skin, they lay together, limbs wrapped warm around each other. “You are perfect,” he whispered, tracing his fingertip over the rise of one of her breasts. He cupped the firm, smooth round, and tweaking hard enough to make her moan, he rolled her nipple under his thumb. She shifted beneath him, whimpered, and molded her loins to his. One wisp of fabric barred him from heaven. A breath of her warm fragrance stoked his need as he inched off her underwear. As soon as he freed her from the panties, she parted her legs so he could lie between them. He pressed a kiss on the curls at their apex. She gave a small gasp when he palmed her legs wider. “I want all of you, Sian. Give me all of you?”