He cupped her cheek in his large hand.Against her better judgment she leaned in to his warmth.“No,chérie,it is not all right.”
He was so close his warm breath caressed her skin.So close she could kiss him.For a moment their gazes locked, his such a pure beautiful gray she could fall into it and never want to leave.She had the oddest sensation she’d done this before, looked deep into his eyes and found everything she’d been searching for.
The elevator doors opened, startling her out of the haze of longing and severing the deep connection humming between them.He pulled away and motioned for her to exit.She stepped out and caught her breath.
She expected his living quarters to reflect his office décor.Glass and chrome, hard angles and dark colors.Starkness and simplicity.
Insteadelegance, opulenceandluxurywere the words that sprang to mind.The look was homey instead of stuffy.The kind of place to retreat to after a hard day’s work.
He’d decorated in dark wood, intricately carved, with jeweled tones to complement, offset by creams and beiges.The living room and dining area were combined, surrounded by cream-colored pillars.The windows were unadorned, the lights of Milwaukee in the background and the dark void of Lake Michigan beyond.
The couches were formal, yet comfortable.A flat-screen television looked out of place sitting inside a large antique armoire.
Gorgeous, gigantic floral arrangements sat on the coffee table and dining room table and a sword hung above a stone fireplace.
Feet sinking into the deep-piled carpet, Lainie made her way to the fireplace to stare up at the weapon.Her mind flashed back to her latest dream in which the other Madelaine had been watching Christien prepare for battle, a sword almost exactly like this riding his hip.
She knew nothing about medieval weaponry, yet had dreamt about this one in detail, right down to the hammered hilt.Before tonight she hadn’t even known what a hilt was.
In her dream the sword had been nicked and dented.This was polished and gleamed in the recessed lighting but that was the only difference.How did she dream of this weapon when she’d never seen it before?
“It’s beautiful,” she said.“Where did you get it?”
He stepped into the room and for the first time she noticed the music playing in the background.Not the loud techno-pop of downstairs, but a quiet jazz coming from an invisible sound system.
“I’ve had it for years.”
She turned from the massive fireplace, almost disappointed he hadn’t said more.What else is there to say, Lainie?Were you expecting him to tell you he used it to fight in the Crusades?
“What happened tonight, Madelaine?”His tone wasn’t cajoling, but commanding.Not smooth, but coarse.The soldier,her mind whispered.
She stepped away from the weapon.His eyes tracked her, unrelenting, probing.She rubbed her arms and looked around.She wished she could spill it all, but that was impossible.You didn’t tell a stranger you dreamt of him or you saw visions of yourself being…murdered.Her mind stuttered over the word and she shivered.The fear she thought she’d overcome bubbled to the surface, almost overpowering her, but she managed to wrestle it back in place and put a tight hold on it.Fear wouldn’t do her any good right now.She didn’t even know what it was she feared.
“Madelaine.”
She closed her eyes, once again pulling from his strength and making it her own.
“It’s nothing.”She walked to the windows to look out.Far below, a line of people snaked around the building, waiting to get into his nightclub.
“You lie,” he said softly.
She turned to face him, keeping the room between them.“It was just an episode.An asthma attack.I panicked and called you.”She glanced away, unable to meet his direct gaze.“I’m sorry I bothered you, but I don’t know many people here yet.You’re the first one I thought to call.”There.That at least wasn’t a lie.
“Do you have these attacks often?”
“More often than before.”
“Should I call a doctor?”
“No!”Her head jerked up.“I mean, I’m fine now.They pass.”Or at least she hoped they passed, but what did she know?She’d never dreamt like this before.
He tilted his head and studied her.“What brings on these…” He paused.“Attacks?”In his quick hesitation she sensed he didn’t believe her but was playing along.
“Um.Stress.”Isn’t that what she’d told herself?Just stress.Stress of moving, starting a new job, making new friends.The stress of her father’s health and paying her bills.Except lots of people did all those things and she’d bet a dollar none of their stress manifested itself in strange dreams that took place hundreds of years ago, and with weapons she knew nothing about but now, due to her dreams, suddenly seemed to have an abundant knowledge of.
Christien remained quiet for a long while, studying her.She had the feeling he was waiting for something.Waiting for her to tell him the truth, but she couldn’t do it.This wasn’t something you just blurted out.
“I couldn’t breathe.”She suddenly wanted him to know, needed to say it so they had at least some honesty between them.“When I called you.I couldn’t breathe.”
