Now and Forever (54 page)

The thought came to him that what had been done could not be undone for without the balloon and its magic fire he was destined to live out the remainder of his days in Shannon's world.

"Poor Andrew." She placed a hand against his arm and he felt her touch move through his body like a brushfire. "We'll find a way to make this work."
 

"Aye," he said. "I made my choice when I climbed into the basket and I do not regret it."

"I hope you never will."

Will you still feel thusly in a month, lass, or will you wish me gone when I wish with all my heart to stay?

She met his eyes and he watched as a look of pure joy lit her lovely face from within. He did not know what had caused her to look at him with such wonder but he knew that he would carry the memory with him to his grave.

 
#

Andrew ate as he did most things, with appetite and enthusiasm. After he finished Shannon cleared the table then suggested they watch television in the den while they shared coffee and dessert.

"You still don't seem very enthusiastic about television," Shannon observed as they clicked past a
Cheers
rerun.

"'Tis like reading a book but without the challenge," he said. "There is no room for the imagination."

"Imagination is in short supply these days," Shannon said. "Most people want their entertainment as simple and easy to digest as possible." She channel-surfed until she landed on
I Love Lucy
. "Now this is required viewing if you want to understand American culture."

It was a classic Lucy episode. Ricky was putting on a show at the Tropicana and Lucy wanted to be part of it.

"I do not understand his reluctance," Andrew said. "Why does he not grant her wish?"

Shannon grinned. "You've heard her sing. Lucy has no talent, that's why."

Andrew considered her statement for a moment. "I have seen no evidence of singing ability from Ricky Ricardo."

Her grin widened. "I think
Babalu
is a masterpiece."

"Lucy is a comely lass," Andrew went on, a gleam of amusement in his hazel eyes. "She would be an asset to her husband."

"Another sexist statement! Stop seeing women as adjuncts to men. We're free and independent and we don't need men to provide for us."

"I am a product of my time. I make no apologies for it."

"If you're going to make a life in the 20th century, you have to adjust." She watched as he devoured a chocolate chip cookie in an exceedingly male fashion and felt a delicious tingle of excitement.
You're in bad shape, Shannon. Getting turned on by a man eating cookies.

"Turned on?" Andrew asked.

"Turned on?" she echoed.

"You do not know the meaning of the phrase either?"

"I mean - it's just -" She stopped and took a deep breath. "We turn on lights and televisions and radios."

"That is not what you meant."

"How do you know what I meant? I don't recall saying anything like that."

"You did," he persisted. "I heard the words most clearly."

"I don't think so."

"Aye, Shannon." His voice grew lower, his tone caressing. "They were your words and I heard them inside my heart."

"I don't think we should talk about this." Talking might make it go away and that was the last thing she wanted to happen. Just a few hours ago she'd thought that magical connection was lost to her forever. But then, in the dim light of her garage, she had heard his thoughts as clearly as she heard her own and it seemed as if someone had handed her back her heart.

How could there be any doubt that she'd made the right decision when she hid the book Dakota found?

He wanted to stay with her.

In her time.

In her world.

When two people were so attuned that their thoughts were one, it had to mean their destinies were one, as well. "You have experienced it also," Andrew said. "I know by the way you look at me, the things you say."

"It happened that very first night." She glanced away. "Yesterday your thoughts were closed to me until--"

"I know," he said. "It was thus for me as well."

She met his eyes again, seeing beyond his physical self to some place deeper, more complex, more wonderful. "I have never felt this way before."

"Not with your husband?"

She shook her head. "I loved Bryant but it was different." The love she'd had for her first husband had been built upon a foundation of family expectation and naivete and when harsh reality showed its face she'd accepted the blame the way other women accepted compliments. "Surely you loved Elspeth."

"With my entire heart," he said simply, "but when she left this world she no longer loved me."

"You can't know that," Shannon said, wishing she could ease his pain as he had eased hers.

"Aye," he said. "I can. On the last day I saw her, she said the love she'd held for me had died and only duty remained." His voice broke and he cleared his throat. "She was a good woman. She deserved more than I had been able to provide."

"The world hasn't changed very much in two hundred years," Shannon said after a moment. "We still make the same mistakes." Their gazes met. "And we still hope for a happy ending."

"As in a child's story?" he asked, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Is that so awful? Where is it written that the things we wish for can't come true? You wished to travel to the future and you did it, Andrew. And I--" She stopped abruptly as hot color flooded her cheeks.

He captured her hands in his. "What is it you wished for, Shannon?"

"You," she whispered. "I wished for you."

Chapter Sixteen

Words.

Plain words, simple in their meaning.

But with those words the world was his and everything in it.

Andrew's heart soared with joy as he drew Shannon into his arms. She was so small against him, her frame so delicate and womanly, that the need to protect her against the world battled his own fierce need to possess her right there on the floor as if she were a -

He pushed her away, struggling to douse the fires raging throughout his body.

"Andrew?" Her aqua eyes were wide, her lips soft and pink. Had she no knowledge what such a look could do to a man? "Is something wrong?"

"Aye," he managed with great difficulty. "You have an uncommon effect upon me."

"I'm glad."

Her words puzzled him. It was not the reaction he had expected. "That does not offend you?"

"It pleases me," she said in a voice that promised wonders beyond knowing, "for you have an uncommon effect upon me as well."

"It is not my wish to cause you alarm."

"I know," she whispered, laying her hand against his cheek. "I think I've known that from the first moment."

"In my own time I would not hesitate but here--" He shook his head. "I fear the rules of courtship are much changed."

"Court me, Andrew. Court me the way you would have if we'd met in your world."

He clasped her hand in his, marveling in the fragile bones that hid the strength of ten.

"'Twould be a slow and careful wooing." He bent his head forward and raised her hand to his lips. "There would be much time for walking together--" he pressed his lips against the palm of her hand "--and for social intercourse." He closed her fingers to hold the kiss. "And for watching the fire dance on a cold winter's night."

Her eyes seemed to grow darker as she watched him. "But it's summertime...what did you do in the summertime?"

"This."

She fit against him as if she'd been fashioned for his pleasure and he knew that his pleasure had grown most apparent as she moved closer. His hands spanned her waist, that naked expanse of skin that had tantalized him the first time he saw her standing by the rectangular pond and he feared his control would not withstand the temptation.

"A slow wooing," Shannon said in a dreamy voice. "Exactly how slow would that be?"

"Many months," he said as she linked her arms behind his neck. "A man might court his lady a year or better before--"

"Too long." She kissed the side of his neck. "We move a lot faster today."

"'Tis true," he said, blood rushing southward. "I have seen the speed at which you move."

"Life is short," she said. "That's one of the things we've learned."

"If my life ended at this moment, Shannon, I would die a happy man because I would be with you."

She pressed a kiss to the line of his jaw. "I'll bet you say that to all the girls you drop in on."

"I am not a flatterer. I speak what is on my mind and in my heart."

"I know," she said, placing her index finger against his lips. "I have heard all you have to say but now I want you to be quiet and kiss me."

Her words were powerful and they had a most amazing effect upon his person. He blazed to life, hungry for her yet painfully aware of his own strength.

"I am a...passionate man," he said bluntly. "I have no desire to cause you any discomfort." He would rather die celibate than hurt her in any way.

"I know you won't hurt me." She sounded surprised that he would say such a thing.

He thought of the pain she had suffered at her husband's hands and persisted. "There are times when I do not know my own strength."

"I'll be the first one to remind you."

 
He cupped her face in his hands and met her eyes. "I have not been with a woman in a long while. I may be less than you expect."

"Never," she said, her voice fierce. "You are already more than I've ever dreamed."

He claimed her mouth with his but in truth he knew that it was Shannon who was claiming him, heart and soul and body.

 
#

Somewhere in the background Lucy and Ethel were cooking up another harebrained scheme but Shannon didn't hear a word.
 

Andrew swept her up into his powerful arms and, not breaking their kiss, carried her upstairs to her bedroom on the second floor. The door was ajar and he kicked it the rest of the way open with the tip of his boot and a thrill of recognition rocketed through her body. Without breaking stride he crossed the room toward the four-poster bed beneath the window and an instant later they were tangled together on the feather mattress.

He kissed her hungrily, as if he couldn't get his fill of the taste and smell of her. His naked hunger brought her to a fever pitch and she moved against him, running her hands along his back, down to his waistband, sliding her fingers beneath his shirt until she found his smooth warm skin.

Was it possible to get drunk on the feel of a man's body beneath your palms? That powerful swell of muscle, the heat, the knowledge that you were playing with fire and hoping to burn.

 
#

He was intoxicated by her smell, the satiny feel of her skin, the knowledge that all that separated him from paradise were a few thin layers of fabric and a supreme act of will.

They lay together on their sides, legs entwined, breaths mingling, hearts pounding wildly. She ran her hands up the length of his back and he feared he would lose all control.

"Nay," he muttered, moving away from her on the soft and welcoming mattress. "I am in danger of reaching the end before we have the chance to begin."

She reached for him, urging him closer by the look in her eyes, the soft smile on her beautiful mouth. With a groan he pushed her back against the mattress and straddled her hips. He found the closure of her short trousers but his fingers could not work it open.

"It's called a snap." Her voice was husky, different. He watched as she pulled the two pieces of fabric apart.

He fingered a tiny metal tab that waved just beneath the snap. "And this?"