Authors: Johanna Lindsey
R
oseleen peeked around the corner of the building, her breath held tight, her eyes straining. There he was—the other Thorn! He hadn’t reached the light cast by the torches outside the hostelry yet. When he finally did, her eyes widened.
He seemed bigger than life. Of course, it had to be only her nervousness that made him seem so. He was still Thorn, just not the Thorn she had come to know.
This one’s light brown hair was maybe a little longer, a little bit shaggier. Not for him the Norman fashion of short locks. He wouldn’t conform any more than the other Thorn would—what was she thinking? They were the same man, just at two different times in their lives.
And this one didn’t know her.
Her nervousness took a big leap toward apprehension. Why had Thorn been so insistent about her not meeting this other self of his?
Was this one really so different from him? And then it hit her. Of course he was. Think of how many centuries separated the two selves. The Thorn she knew had lived so much longer, had undoubtedly mellowed, matured, learned to control his emotions…
She was going to talk herself right out of doing what she knew she had to do, if she didn’t stop it. And he had almost reached the door. Short of rushing over to stand in front of it so he couldn’t pass her, and appearing quite deranged in the process, she wasn’t sure what she could do to keep him out of that tavern. Of course, she didn’t have to delay him for very long—she hoped.
With that firmly in mind, she called out, “Excuse me, I could use a little help.”
When he glanced around, but after a moment, still reached for the door of the hostelry, she realized he couldn’t see her. She quickly stepped out from the shadowed corner of the building to correct that.
The light caught her yellow gown and drew his eyes to her. His hand returned to his side. She apparently had his full attention—for the moment.
Her nervousness took another leap, especially since she still hadn’t figured out what to say to keep him there. An easy time-consumer in her day would be to ask for directions to someplace and play dumb in confirming them, so she’d get a number of repeats and a very frustrated good Samaritan. But considering that ladies didn’t go traipsing around
towns in medieval England at night, at least not alone, she had to scratch that idea. Hadn’t she already been reamed out for going around alone, even during the day?
His blue eyes were moving over her for a complete, leisurely inspection, the kind that bordered on insulting in her day. But men probably got away with it regularly in this time period. Come to think of it, he’d done the same thing to her before—rather her Thorn had. But this wasn’t her Thorn. She had to keep that uppermost in her mind. This one didn’t know her, was seeing her for the first time, and his inspection brought color to her cheeks that, fortunately, the torchlight wouldn’t detect.
When his eyes finally came back up to settle on hers, it wasn’t to ask what kind of help she needed. “Where are your attendants, lady?”
She sighed in relief. He’d just given her her delaying excuse, and if she weren’t so addled by this encounter, she would have thought of it herself.
“I’ve lost them,” she told him, and tried to sound suitably bewildered.
“Lost them?”
“My escort. We became separated. I have been wandering around looking for them for hours now. But I’m afraid to go any farther alone. I don’t know this area, and it seems most—unsavory.”
“Where is it you should be?”
“I was to join the duke’s party.”
He nodded, quite curtly. So he’d always had that habit? she thought, trying hard not to smile.
“There are bound to be some of Lord William’s men in the hostelry. I will fetch several to escort you where you needs go.”
“No, don’t do that,” she said quickly, and wracked her brain for a reason. All that came to her was, “The duke’s soldiers are notorious gossipers, and I can’t have this getting around, that I was found lost and alone down by the docks. My reputation would be ruined. Just now, only you know—and of course my previous escort. But they will be too ashamed of losing me to speak of it.”
He seemed satisfied with that excuse, but still wasn’t inclined to help her. “I have not the time—”
“You have an engagement?”
“Nay, but—”
“Ah, you’re just in a hurry to get to your…amusements. I understand, Thorn, but this really is an emergency. And the duke will be most apprecia—”
He interrupted with a frown, “How do you know my name, lady?”
Roseleen groaned inwardly. That had been a real blunder, one she certainly hadn’t intended. But this quibbling with him had been so familiar, she’d forgotten for a moment which Thorn she was dealing with. And unable to come up with any acceptable excuse for her blunder, she was forced to improvise again, this time with a little mystery that she
hoped would hold his attention for a bit longer.
So she said, “I know many things about you.”
“How so?” he asked. “You are not one I would forget, had we met.”
That remark, complimentary as it was, was doing unexpected things to her, most critically making her forget again that he wasn’t her Thorn. She found herself staring at his lips, for so long that he had to repeat his question.
“How do you know me, lady?”
Her eyes came back to his with a jolt, and she sighed. She really wished her Thorn hadn’t kissed her so thoroughly just moments ago, leaving her wanting and…and here stood his double, with the same looks she found so handsome, the same war-hardened body, the same lips that knew so well how to devastate her senses…He was damn lucky she wasn’t crawling all over him already.
“Let us say your reputation has grown far and wide,” she said, unable to keep the grouchiness out of her tone at that moment. Sexual frustration sure was a bitch she hadn’t counted on ever experiencing firsthand.
It was her tone that raised his brow, and after a moment, had him chuckling. It was an easy guess which reputation he’d decided she was referring to, and it wasn’t his prowess on the battlefield.
After his humor wound down, she got another one of his curt nods, albeit with a grin,
and the remark, “I cannot guarantee your safety, do I take you to Lord William.”
She all but snorted. “Nonsense. Look at you. You’re more than capable of dealing with any—”
“From myself, lady.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
He didn’t bother to elaborate. He simply cornered her against the wall of the hostelry, with one arm braced on either side of her, and leaned forward to prove just how unsafe she would be with him.
He kissed just like Thorn—well, why wouldn’t he? But that made it that much more difficult to keep her senses intact, with his mouth working on hers in that sensual way she found so thrilling. And he brought his body into play, carefully pressing against her so that she could experience all of him—as if she weren’t already familiar with that body.
She’d been warned. She’d been told not to deal with this Thorn. She really should have listened, because it appeared he wasn’t going to stop proving his point, and soon she wouldn’t want him to.
She strained to hear the call that would release her from this dilemma, but she heard nothing beyond her own rapid breathing and his. Apparently her Thorn was having trouble in getting Sir John off to his bed, which meant she still had to keep this Thorn occupied, but she hoped, not in the way he seemed to have in mind.
Again, her choices were limited. She could
appear to accept his attentions, which she seemed to have no trouble whatsoever in doing, or she could pretend to be outraged and insulted.
Which would keep him longer? Acceptance most likely, and besides, it would be pretty hard to play the outrage scenario convincingly considering how long she’d been standing there, letting him kiss her. But she had to throw in a little objecting. After all, the goal was to stall, not to find herself in the alley with her skirts tossed up.
She managed to free her mouth and push him away a little. She even managed to get back to the subject that had prompted his demonstration. That her voice sounded breathless and husky was entirely his fault. Just like his other self, he’d managed to stir her passions, with barely any effort on his part.
“I see you do manage to live up to your reputation, don’t you? But in this case, couldn’t you just
try
to restrain yourself for once?” she asked him. “At least long enough to escort me to William.”
One more torrid look down her length and back. “Nay, I think not.”
She realized she would have been disappointed had he answered otherwise, and yet, damnit, this wasn’t
her
Thorn. She didn’t really want to be kissing him anymore; she just had to make him think she did.
“I would know your name, lady.”
For some unaccountable reason, Delilah
came to mind. She said it, then had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing at how apt it was. The classic sexual deceiver, which was exactly what she was about to be.
To that end, she gave him what she hoped was a come-hither smile to keep him interested, but since she’d never had any practice at sending such smiles, she didn’t know if she was doing it right. By the curious look she got from him, however, she had to assume her smile was probably more on the sickly side, so she gave that up with a sigh.
“You are impatient, Thorn Blooddrinker. In some ways, that isn’t such a bad thing, but in others…” She glanced around at the immediate area. “This is hardly the place for us to become better acquainted.”
At that provocative remark, he took her arm and started her off down the street so fast, she went into minor shock. She’d just blown it. The idea was just to keep him occupied, not get herself dragged off where she’d have the devil’s own time finding her Thorn again—if she could manage to get away from this one.
“Wait!”
He did stop, but by his expression, it didn’t look as if it would be for long, so in desperation she said, “Since it is quite possible now that I won’t be joining the duke’s entourage tonight, there is no longer any hurry, is there? And just now…” She paused to gather her courage to say the rest. “I have a powerful urge to taste you again.”
She never would have been so bold if she hadn’t panicked, but that boldness was going to get her exactly what she’d asked for. He pulled her close, his hands cupped her cheeks, his mouth started to descend…
And she heard her name called at last from down that dark alley.
Her decision was swift and final, and made with only a little regret. Just as his lips grazed hers, she slipped her foot behind his and pushed with all her might. He tumbled to the ground. She ran like hell, down the alley and smack into a very hard chest.
“Get us out of here quick! I may be followed by you-know-who!”
“Aye, you will be followed” was Thorn’s terse reply as he grabbed her hand, a tad too tightly, bringing a slight wince to her brow. “I have the memory of it now, and verily, did I search long for you, Roseleen.”
Her mouth dropped open. Fortunately, she was in another place and time, and so away from the dire threat of the two Thorns meeting, before she got to close it. She wished she could have left her shock and embarrassment behind as well, but wouldn’t you know, that managed to travel right along with her.
R
oseleen was mortified. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever been quite this embarrassed before. All she wanted to do was find a deep dark hole and bury herself in it. She wouldn’t look at Thorn. He was still holding her hand, but she kept her back to him, concealing the furious color in her cheeks as long as possible.
I have the memory of it now
.
Why hadn’t that occurred to her? It stood to reason that whatever happened to the younger Thorn in the past, or was added to the past by unnatural means as in the case of his meeting her, this Thorn would gain the memory of. And that was just what had happened.
Thorn probably had a clear memory of everything she’d said and done to the other. He probably even got those memories exactly as they were occurring, so they’d be as fresh to him now as they’d been to his other self—who was at this moment in the past searching for her.
She groaned inwardly. It was too much to hope that that particular memory of his would rapidly fade, simply because nine hundred plus years had come and gone since the actual occurrence. She couldn’t get that lucky, and Thorn was about to prove it.
He didn’t let her ignore him for long. His hands came to rest on her shoulders, weighing against her guilt. And his tone was fraught with anger.
“You were warned—”
“Don’t,” she cut in. “I know I handled him—you—wrong, so you don’t have to elaborate on it.”
But he was determined to do just that. “He only had one thing on his mind, getting you into his bed, and you encouraged him.”
She swung around to face him, drawing on what little defense she had available. “What else was I supposed to do, discuss cursed swords and unnatural summonings with him? That would have freaked him out. He probably would have thought I was a witch, and left me on the spot—to run right into you. I saved you from your dreaded global catastrophe, or whatever would have happened if you two had gotten close enough to say howdy, so why are you complaining?”
“You are a woman of intelligence, or so you keep reminding me,” he said in a low grumble. “You could have easily distracted him with your incessant chattering. You do that well enough with me.”
A double blush, scoring on both counts.
Was Thorn right? Had she let her curiosity about his other self convince her that she had no other recourse than to provoke his sexual interest in her?
It was easy to come up with other ideas when she wasn’t directly facing the crisis. She could have simply claimed an injury, a twisted ankle perhaps. She could have told him someone had already gone for help, and merely asked him to stay with her until that help arrived. He wouldn’t have been so uncharitable as to refuse a lady in distress. Then again, maybe he would have, considering he had only two main interests, and she would have been keeping him from one of them.
“Is there a little wounded pride getting in the way here, because I managed to dupe you and get away from you—I mean him? Is that why you’re so angry?”
“Nay, I am angry because you let him touch you!” he growled.
She blinked. And then she started to laugh. She simply couldn’t help it.
“You’re jealous of yourself? Oh, come on, Thorn, isn’t that a little bit ridiculous? I mean, think about it. He was still you—at least to me he was. Even the fact that so many centuries separate your ages didn’t matter, because he looked exactly as you—”
“Only a few years separate our ages, yet is there a very great difference between us that you cannot deny. I have full knowledge of you, Roseleen. He had none. Though he was eager to do so, he had never tasted the plea
sures of your body. Wherein, then, were we the same?”
He had her blushing again. “All right, I’m sorry I didn’t slap him for kissing me. I thought about it, but I was afraid he’d leave me if I did and go right off to run into you. And anyway, it’s your damn fault that I let him kiss me,” she said, and pushed him back for good measure.
That a couch happened to be behind him and he went tumbling back over the armrest on it was all to the good in her opinion, since it gave her the opportunity to climb on top of him, which she quickly took. “Next time you kiss me like you did, Viking,” she continued, “make sure you stick around long enough to put out the fire.”
To demonstrate what she was talking about, she started kissing him in a very passionate manner, with more aggression than she’d ever attempted before, and apparently his anger wasn’t strong enough anymore for him even to try to play not interested. Before long, his large hands were gripping her backside to press her firmly against the seat she had chosen, and she was trailing small bites and kisses along his neck and as far down the opening of his tunic as she could get.
It was the most inappropriate time to be interrupted, but that didn’t stop David from entering the room and clearing his throat rather loudly to make his presence known. Roseleen’s head came up, swung in his direction, and after a few seconds of bemuse
ment—how long it took to gather her scattered thoughts back together—she was filled with delight.
“David!” she exclaimed, and immediately swung back to Thorn to exclaim again, “We’re back to normal!”
“I beg to differ,” David said rather dryly. “You, sister dear, aren’t doing anything
you
normally do.”
She blushed mildly over that remark, because she was too thrilled that their attempt to correct history had worked. And she’d been so distracted by Thorn’s remark when they’d arrived that she hadn’t even noticed they were back in the very familiar surroundings of Cavenaugh Cottage.
But David was still staring at her with a somewhat disapproving expression, which surprised her a bit. Hadn’t he always pestered her in a brotherly fashion about making an effort to find the right man and settle down?
Just now, her blush got a little brighter as she climbed off Thorn to allow him to sit up, and gathered her nerve for the introductions. Explaining who Thorn was was
not
going to be easy by any means, and at the moment, her brother didn’t look as if he’d be receptive to the incredible tale she had to relate.
So she began by simply saying, “Thorn, this is my brother David, if you haven’t guessed that by now. And, David, meet Thorn Blooddrinker.”
She waited for some wise-ass remark like, “Bringing ghosts home for dinner now, are
we?”, but none was forthcoming. In fact, all David did was give Thorn a brief nod, as if he’d never heard that name before.
She was surprised, again. He obviously wasn’t making the connection, or recalling what she’d told him about her dreams—or rather, what she’d thought had been dreams.
She decided to give his memory a chance to jog itself, and asked instead, “When did you return from France?”
“France?”
“Yes, and did you bring Lydia with you this time for a visit?”
He was frowning at her now. “What’s wrong with you, Rose? I haven’t been to France since we went together last summer. And who, might I ask, is Lydia?”
All she could do was stare at him as her body turned cold with dread. He never called her Rose. And they hadn’t gone to France together last summer. The last time she had been to France, not counting her recent visit with Thorn, had been for David’s wedding, which had taken place in one of Lydia’s mansions on the southern coast. But he didn’t even know who Lydia was, had obviously not met her as he should have, let alone married her, and…
She threw her arms around Thorn’s neck, nearly choking him as she said in a frantic whisper by his ear, “That’s not my brother. I mean, it is, but, like the Barry you met, he’s not acting right. I’m afraid it didn’t work, Thorn. We may have gotten the cottage back,
but something still needs to be corrected in the past, because this still isn’t the way my present should be.”
He peeled her arms away so he could look at her. “You are certain?”
She nodded, but it was the fact that she was close to tears that had him wrapping his arms around her now. Behind them, David made a sound of disgust.
“Do you mind saving that for when you are alone?” David asked in a disapproving tone.
Roseleen stiffened and turned to frown at him. “Oh, stuff it, David. We were alone until you showed up. But don’t bother leaving. We will.”
She grabbed Thorn’s hand and pulled him off the couch and out of the room. This David was obviously a prude and one she had to wonder if she even liked. She certainly wasn’t going to waste her breath explaining to him what had happened to her. But she was hopeful that the next time she saw her brother, he’d be the brother she knew, not that puritanical imitation they’d just left shaking his head at them.
Only how was she going to accomplish getting her David back? She’d run out of ideas, couldn’t possibly imagine what else had gone wrong in the past to account for these new changes in the present. And she was exhausted. Last night, she’d barely slept at all in the tent. The last good sleep she’d had had found her waking for the first time in Thorn’s tent in Normandy. But it felt as if weeks had
passed since then, with everything that had happened to her in the last two days.
Having reached her room, she closed the door and leaned back against it, giving Thorn a lackluster smile. “I don’t even want to discuss it. In the morning, I’ll figure out what we did wrong, or what someone else did wrong, but right now I just want to get some sleep, so let’s go to bed.”
He made a flourish with his arm toward the bed, but he didn’t look all that happy. “I will join you there,” he said. “I will even make an effort to forget what you were doing ere your brother made his appearance.”
She had to grin at his subtle reminder that she’d deliberately provoked his passions. And come to think of it, she wasn’t
that
exhausted.
“That’s very sweet of you, Thorn, but you don’t need to forget about it,” she said as she came away from the door. “I don’t believe I need to go…right to sleep.”
She heard his chuckle just before he swept her up into his arms. And a few moments later when he laid her carefully on the bed, she was chuckling as well.
“It doesn’t take much to encourage you—or that other you, does it?”
“When you are the prize, Roseleen? Nay, it takes no encouragement at all.”
She wondered how glib that remark was, or if he really meant it. In either case, the words still thrilled her, and she reached an arm around his neck to draw him down for a thank-you kiss. But he wasn’t interested in
any tepid pecks. His tongue slipped between her teeth and started the magic that was uniquely his. Within moments, she had no thoughts to spare except those of pleasure.
He kissed her for a long, long time while his hands made forays to her most sensitive areas. And she had so many that she had never known about until she knew him. Actually, anywhere he touched her produced splendid results. It was as if her body were fine-tuned to his, and he knew every way possible to make it sing.
She was ready for him long before he was willing to end his sensual explorations, so that when he did finally cover her and enter her, sinking deep into her depths and holding there for long, exquisite moments, it was the most glorious feeling, nigh equal to the climax she knew would soon come. She gasped. He did it again, thrusting slow and so deep, and she felt vibrations of pleasure, as if her blood were humming.
And still he didn’t hurry, savoring his own pleasure even as he increased hers. Only when he drove her over the edge and she was clinging to him for dear life as she rode the crest of her climax, did he increase his tempo to join her in that splendid pinnacle of completion.
And even then, as that blissful languor urged her toward slumber, he was kissing her, caressing her, showing her in the tenderest way that she was special to him. That, more than anything else, pulled at her heartstrings.