Wandering Soul (15 page)

Dante wanted to retreat, to cover his face and find the nearest shadow where he could hide and get his bearings. But that would be letting himself be cowed by the few lingering stares still cast his way.

This was a new world, and he would be a new man in it—a man who was not ashamed or afraid to show his face.

“Are you okay?” Garrett was standing just behind Dante, and he started at hearing Garrett's voice so close.

“Yes, I am fine.”

Garrett rewarded Dante with a smile and even briefly placed his hand on Dante's shoulder. Looking to Rachel, Garrett said, “I'll be in the back showroom when you're ready to leave.”

“Thanks.” Rachel sniffled loudly as Garrett left the dwindling group. She smiled up at Dante. “Jazz is the boss. Can we finish our dance?”

“Of course.”

Elsa's head whipped back toward Dante and, for a moment, she looked stricken. He could see her pushing away whatever was paining her, just as she shoved away her fear when Winston had fallen.

This time, her expression became completely blank. No fire, no ice, no warmth. No Elsa.

In that moment, Dante felt that she was more distant than when decades stood between them. She turned away, quickly disappearing through the crowd.

Rachel stepped in front of him, lifting his hand in hers as she pulled them into the dance again. The waltz could not end quickly enough. He kept staring out over the crowd, no longer caring at all that he was without a mask. He only wanted to catch a glimpse of Elsa.

“I really am sorry,” Rachel said, drawing him back to his present company. “I had no idea.”

“And I truly forgive you.” Dante managed to glance at Rachel for long enough to smile at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the forget-me-not blue of her irises shining brightly from the contrast.

“How did it happen?” Her voice was soft and timid.

He considered how to respond to her inquiry and found he could not malign his brother. Finally, he settled on saying, “A much more unfortunate accident.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” How very long indeed.

“Is Garrett your doctor?”

“I suppose you could say so.”

“He's a great doctor. I didn't know he did plastic surgery, though.”

“How would one perform surgery on plastic?” Dante had researched the material after it came up so often in his other reading.

Rachel gave a tittering laugh. “Very funny. Is Garrett going to perform the surgery, or is he working with someone else on your case?”

“I have no plans for surgery of any kind in my future, if I can avoid it.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed he was helping you with…”

“With what?”

“You know. Your scars.”

Dante stopped dancing quite suddenly. Their momentum caused Rachel to stumble, but he caught her up against his chest so she did not fall.

“I apologize,” he said. “That was careless of me.”

“It's okay.”

“If you could clarify…” Dante's mind was reeling from the thoughts speeding past.

In his time, he had heard of techniques that were being developed to change peoples' appearance. Nothing showed enough promise to give him hope, but that had been over a hundred years ago. With the advancements in other areas he had seen, he wondered what had been accomplished in this field.

“Are you saying that Garrett could perhaps remove the scarring on my face?”

“I don't know for sure, but you should definitely talk to him if you haven't already. Maybe he can refer you to a specialist. There are plenty of people out there who can do reconstructive surgery. If it's something you want, you should keep looking until you find someone who can help you.”

“Reconstructive surgery…”

Dante felt a rush of adrenaline spread through his body at the thought. As he soared on the surge of hope, his stomach suddenly clenched, the leaden weight of it dragging him back to cold reality.

Elsa would know of this. This was her world, after all. She would know that there were surgeons who might be able to help him. But then, why had she not mentioned this yet? Why would she keep this possibility from him?

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked. “You look angry.”

“I am quite fine, I assure you.” Dante reined in his temper and put forth a placid expression. He might not have ever taken to the stage, but he had spent over a decade in the theatre. He knew how to act. “I do find myself growing tired. It has been quite an eventful evening.”

“I suppose I didn't help any.”

“On the contrary.” He lifted Rachel's hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I found your company most illuminating.”

Rachel laughed, but some of her nervousness had returned. Perhaps she was not as comfortable with his appearance as he thought.

No matter. He had more important things on his mind. He bowed curtly and then headed through the crowd to find Elsa.

He would have answers. And he would have them now.

Chapter Twenty

The evening was turning into a nightmare. Elsa had planned to eventually have a dinner party where Dante didn't wear his mask. She wanted him to be comfortable with the people she invited, to ease him into the idea. Instead, Rachel had ripped off his mask and thrown it on the floor, leaving him exposed for everyone to see.

And he hadn't minded a bit.

This was what she wanted, wasn't it? He was interacting with people without wearing his mask, and he seemed perfectly comfortable. Aside from a few rude gawkers, no one was paying attention to him.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. A few clusters of women had gathered at the edge of the dance floor, no doubt waiting for their chance to dance with him. They would all have to wait. He was completely absorbed by whatever Rachel was talking about as they danced.

The surge of jealousy that rose up within Elsa was like a tidal wave. It knocked the wind from her, made her dizzy. When Rachel stumbled into Dante's chest and he held her close, Elsa felt like she might be sick. The irony of her situation tore through her.

She had been clinging to her hope that Dante would choose her, even after meeting other women and learning that he had options. She thought maybe after dating some other people he would return to her.

Only now did she realize her mistake. What woman would let him go once they had him? What if Elsa had to stand aside as he fell in love with someone else?

She had a horrifying vision of standing in a church among other bridesmaids as a radiant Rachel glided down the aisle to Dante's waiting arms. Elsa's stomach churned again at the thought. She shook her head, trying to force the image away. It was too much.

She glanced back in their direction, but Dante didn't seem to be dancing anymore. He was striding through the crowd, stopping occasionally to either look down as if someone was speaking to him or to scan the crowd.

The bodies between them parted enough to give her a glimpse of women in sultry outfits circling him like piranha. Elsa could almost hear her heart shattering like Dante's mask. There was no one to help her pick up the pieces.

Desperate for space and air, she made her way to the exit. She sat on a bench seat in the foyer near the front door. When Dante was ready to leave, he would find her. She hoped he would be alone and not escorted by some woman looking to go home with him. Her stomach tightened with dread.

At least now he knew he didn't have to wear a mask to be accepted, to be desired.

Maybe it was time to tell him about reconstructive surgery. The thought of him going through a surgery she felt was unnecessary made her feel half sick. There were always risks. Garrett had been clear on that point. But it wasn't her decision to make.

If Dante wanted reconstructive surgery, she would support him however she could. Unfortunately, the most helpful thing she could do was obtain a legal identity for him. There would be paperwork to fill out and questions that would need to be answered. She still had no idea what to do about that.

Her thoughts were chasing their tails when a smooth voice brought them to a halt. “It's a sin for a beautiful woman to be alone.”

A man in a cat mask sat down next to Elsa on the bench, leaning in close enough to make her uneasy, but not so close that she felt justified in doing something about it.

“If I see any I'll let them know.”

“So modest.”

The cat mask had a mane of dark hair attached with streaks of color running through it like a tomcat. The man's smile revealed two rows of perfect white teeth.

There was something about his eyes that gave Elsa a chill. They were cold blue. Emotionless, even when he smiled. She had longed for solitude when she left the party, but she suddenly found herself wishing there were more people nearby.

He leaned back against the window at an angle that put him even closer. “You're very reclusive, being out here all by yourself.”

“I prefer to think of myself as selective.”

“How interesting. You'd rather be a snob than a recluse.”

“I didn't say—”

Before she could finish her argument, Dante stormed into the room. His eyebrows were lowered over his forehead, his hair in disarray, and his lips pulled down in a deep frown. Something else must have happened, and she had left him alone to deal with it. How could she have been so selfish?

Elsa leapt to her feet, guilt and relief warring within her as she ran away from the man on the bench.

“What's wrong? Are you all right?”

“I am fine, thank you.” Dante's voice was cold and tense. He glared at the man sitting on the bench. “I do not mean to intrude.”

“You didn't intrude,” she said. “I was just waiting for you.”

“Well, I am here.”

“Are you ready to go home then?” She hoped so.

Before Dante could respond, the stranger from the bench stood and walked over to them. “Leaving so soon? But we were only just getting to know each other.”

“Perhaps another time.” Elsa stepped closer to Dante, latching onto his arm as if he was a buoy on a stormy sea.

The stranger stared at her hands on Dante's arm, his gaze beyond cold. It almost seemed predatory. Dante must have picked up on it too. He put his arm around her waist and started leading her to the door.

“I'll take you up on that, Elsa.” The stranger strolled back toward the rest of the gallery.

Elsa didn't remember giving him her name. Hearing him say it sent a chill down her spine. She couldn't keep herself from casting one last glance over her shoulder. Dante followed suit, pausing at the exit.

The man pointed to the right side of his face and said, “By the way, just because this is a masked ball doesn't mean you can crawl out from under your rock and pretend to be a normal person like the rest of us. Next time, stay home at the freak show.” He stepped through the doorway, disappearing into the crowd.

At first, Elsa was so shocked that she simply stared after him. Then, fire flooded her veins.

She wasn't sure what she was going to do to that man. She did know that he wouldn't like it. She took two steps before Dante tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He spun her around to face him.

“Let it go.”

“Didn't you hear what he said?”

“Yes, I did. And it is a sentiment that I am quite familiar with. His words speak more of his character than mine.”

“How can anyone be so callous?”

“He seems a man who is very accustomed to getting what he wants. I have met his sort before.” Dante brushed a lock of hair behind Elsa's ear, then cupped her cheek and tilted her face toward him. “Think no more of it.”

She wasn't sure she could manage that on her own. He must have sensed her need for distraction, because he stepped closer and slid his hand to the small of her back, all but pressing their bodies together. He let his fingertips trail along her skin as he shifted his other hand from her face to her shoulder.

The warm breeze from outside couldn't touch the heat that was rising within her. A hint of a smile lifted the corners of Dante's lips. His full, kissable lips.

She needed to do something quickly before this escalated any further. She looked away from him and pulled back a bit to break the spell of the moment.

“I'm sorry I left you alone. I just needed a minute to get some air.” She could use even more of it now. Cold air. Or maybe a cold shower.

“I quite understand.” He kissed her forehead so lightly she barely felt the brush of his lips on her skin. “Let us go home.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The sky was inky black when they arrived at the manor, pinpricks of light scattered over the darkness above like diamonds. Concern had long since usurped Dante's anger. Elsa had hardly spoken to him after they left the gallery. During the drive home, she sat on the opposite side of the car, never once reaching for his hand.

In the foyer, she placed her feathered mask on a side table and stood with her back to him. Not knowing what else to do, Dante pulled the bundle from his pocket that held the remnants of his own mask and set it next to hers.

Hoping to draw her into conversation, he said, “Your friends are every bit as gracious as I would expect from knowing you.”

“You really felt comfortable, even without your mask?”

“Very much so.”

Elsa smiled at last, and the light he loved so dearly returned to her eyes for a moment. They were still pinched, as if she were in great pain, but did not wish him to know.

“I'm glad it was such a good experience. I hope that you understand things better now. Your options.”

“Options?”

“You've seen that people will accept you as you are.”

“You have already shown me that. I do not care what others think, only you.”

She winced and her smile vanished. “I'm not the only person who accepts you. I wanted you to know that. You can have other relationships. Other friends.”

“Friends.” He let the word roll around on his tongue. He did not like the taste of it at all. Not when speaking of himself and Elsa.

“And more, if you'd like.”

His gaze snapped back to hers, but she was staring very pointedly at the tile floor. She had gone quite pale. Dante's heart started thundering in his chest. It was a wonder she did not hear it, standing so close at his side.

“Rachel seemed fascinated by you.” Elsa's voice was reedy. She cleared her throat before continuing. “So did the other women that approached you after your dance. I wanted you to know that you don't have to change to have relationships with other people.”

“I am not certain that I understand.”

“That's because I haven't told you about this yet.”

Her features were pulled so tight, she looked as though she might shatter at any moment. Her eyes had become glassy, and she had to clear her throat again before continuing.

“I know that this has caused you grief throughout your life.” She reached up and gently stroked the right side of his face. Her fingers were as delicate as feathers. “I've heard other people say worse things to you than what that man at the dance tonight said. I know it affects you more than you show.”

“Elsa—” Before he could say more, she silenced him, sliding her thumb across his lips with that same maddening touch. She stepped in closer, resting both of her hands on his shoulders.

“We've been focusing on the technological advancements that have occurred since your time, but there have been medical advances too. We haven't talked about them yet. But it's possible that you might be able to have reconstructive surgery to remove some of your scars. We still need to work out your identity issue, but if you want, we can talk to Garrett about whether you're a good candidate.”

“Is this what you want for me, then? To change how I look?”

“Absolutely not!” The fierceness of her tone left no doubt she meant what she said. “I don't care what you look like. All I care about is who you are.”

Dante stepped closer, leaving very little space between them. He dared to rest his hands on her waist. “I believe you.”

“You just have to know that you have options.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet he could feel the longing in each word.

“And what of you? Are you one of my options?”

She stiffened, but did not pull away. A flush spread across her chest, creeping up from the pale gold silk of her bodice.

Dante was done resisting. He leaned toward her and pressed his lips gently against hers.

Elsa trembled in his arms, her hands sliding up to clutch the back of his neck. He deepened the kiss, and her breath came out in a moan as she pulled him even closer.

Tangling her fingers in his hair to keep him captive, suddenly it was she who kissed him, and with a stunning ardor. Her lips were silken fire, starved for him. When she slid her tongue against his lips, he groaned in response to her invitation.

Elsa, his Elsa, warm and soft in his arms. This is what he had been longing for.

His tongue delved between her lips, a prelude of what was to come. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing their bodies together, desperate to be closer.

She gripped his shoulders and pushed him away, breaking off their kiss. Her chest rose and fell in quick breaths. The same desire he felt was mirrored in her eyes.

He could not form words to express what he was feeling. Hope, joy, expectation. All fell short of the immensity of his emotion.

Dante pulled her against his chest, burying his face in her hair. He breathed her in, the scent of roses making him dizzy, the taste of her still sweet upon his lips.

“No.” She shook her head and pushed him more firmly. His arms fell to his sides as she stepped away. “I can't do this.”

He did not understand what had happened. She shook her head again, and held out one arm as if to ward him off.

“Elsa, I love you.”

Of course. That one small word held everything that he felt for her within it.

“Are you sure?”

His blood was a deafening rush in his ears. He wondered if he had heard her correctly. “That I love you? I am certain of it.”

She shook her head again, backing away as if she was afraid of him. His heart lurched in his chest. He had seen a similar look too many times before, but never from Elsa.

“You are my life.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.” She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her chest as if to keep her heart from leaping out.

“Tell me.” His throat was ready to collapse on itself from the weight of his emotion.

When she opened her eyes, they glistened with unshed tears. Her lip quivered for a moment, and she shook her head.

At first, he thought she was rejecting him, but then she said, “How can you know you love me? How would you ever know for sure? I brought you here and gave you a home, a new life. How will we ever know if it's love or gratitude?”

“Elsa—” Dante took a small step toward her.

“No.” She was building up her walls, brick by brick, word by word, putting distance between them. A panicky feeling fluttered up from his stomach. “I know you. You'd stay, even if you realized later that it wasn't love. You'd stay from a sense of honor. I don't want that. I never wanted that.”

“What do you want?”

His question seemed to break her.

“I want you! I've always wanted you. For years!” Tears spilled down her cheeks as a torrent of words flew from her lips. “The first time I saw you, you were trying to save Heinrich. I could see the love and the pain and the fear in your eyes. And then I watched you with Mary, how kind you were to her, how encouraging. And I'm sorry that I watched you without you knowing. I never thought that we would meet.”

“I have already forgiven that.”

She continued as if she had not heard him. “All the torment others heaped on you, the pain you bore, and you never once complained to anyone. You never told anyone, but I saw how it tore at your soul, how it pushed you down to your knees. I know that pain, that weight. I've lived with it every day of my life. But I never knew anyone could be as strong as you.”

He knew her powers made her feel isolated, that she felt she could not trust anyone with knowledge of her gift. He did not realize how very much that loneliness was costing her. He had no time to think on it, as she kept on, her voice rising.

“And now you're here and all I can think is that you're only interested in me because I'm the only woman you know who accepts you. I thought if you met someone else, maybe if things didn't work out between you, eventually we could…”

Her voice broke, and she covered her face with her hands. “I knew I had to let you go, but then I watched you dance with Rachel tonight and talk to those other women, and it hurt so much. So much more than I thought it would.”

She shook her head as if trying to clear it of a nightmare. Dante could bear no more.

With two strides, he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her again. He held her against his chest as she shuddered and cried.

She had not said that she loved him, but the intensity of her emotion left him with no doubt of how she felt. The depths of her pain were as great as her passion. He had to help her understand that his love was real.

“You are the strongest woman I have ever known. There is no other woman I want to be with. Yes, you have given me much, and your generosity is part of why I love you, but it is so much more than that. I would know a feeling of obligation. I would know if it was gratitude. I am grateful, of course, but that is not the summation of what I feel for you.”

He pulled her from him through an act of will, tilting her face up so he could look into her eyes. “Do you think that I have not watched you as well? How tenderly you care for Winston, how passionately you look after your friends? You are kind, intelligent, brave and beautiful. How could I not love you?”

“How can you be sure?” she whispered.

“I know my heart. And I believe I know yours. You defied time to bring me here with you. Let me be with you.”

“Bringing you back was nothing compared to this.” She backed away once more, shaking her head. “You're wrong about me. I'm not brave.”

Without another word, she turned away, then walked up the stairs.

Dante did not know what to do. If Elsa would not trust him, how could they possibly have a life together?

He took the stairs slowly, following her path toward his own room. He paused before her door. For once, it was closed.

This was ludicrous. He loved her and he believed she loved him, whether she would admit it to herself or not. They wanted each other, wanted to be together. Fear should not stand in their way. He would not let it.

He opened the door.

Elsa was curled on her side in bed, the lamp dim beside her. She sat up and stared at him.

He hesitated for a moment on the threshold, then crossed into her room and quietly closed the door behind him. “You are mistaken about me as well.”

“About what?”

“You think I am overwhelmed with gratitude for all you have given me.” He started to close the space between them.

She stood as he approached, as nervous as a bird trying to decide whether to take flight. He would not let it happen. He would not let her deny them the infinite possibilities of being together.

Dante stopped quite close to her. She had to crane her neck to look up at him. Errant locks of her golden hair spilled over her shoulder as she did. He slid his fingers along her skin, nudging her hair back so that he could see the gooseflesh that followed in the wake of his touch. He let the silence stretch on.

“How was I wrong?”

“I am grateful, yes. You have given me a home, companionship, friendship. But I am the most selfish being on this earth.”

“No, you're not. How can you say that?”

“Because it is not enough. You have given me an entire world, and it's not enough. I want you.”