Some Enchanted Dream: A Time Travel Adventure (Seasons of Enchantment Book 2) (24 page)

Must be a great trick to possess
,
being forever young and handsome
. Dan would give anything to be a normal size and blend in with the crowd instead of towering over everyone and making them nervous.

“M’sieur,” someone pulled at Dan’s jacket sleeve. He glanced left, to see who it was, and found no one there. Whoever was trying to get his attention had turned away.

A second tug at his coat sleeve made Dan look down.
Oh hell, a dwarf
?  “Hello?” Dan replied cautiously in his deep baritone. He was careful not to smile at the fellow as in his day it was just plain rude to treat those with height challenges any different than the average born.

“M’sieur Giant, join me for a drink. I have a table, just over there.” The short man had black hair, round spectacles and a neatly trimmed beard. He gestured to a table near the stage with his cane. With that, the small fellow turned and strode away to the table he had indicated.

What luck! It gave a perfect view of the raucous chorus line up for the next show.

Dan followed the man, pleased to have found a friend among the Parisian set. He'd lucked out in meeting Arthur, who was English, as not speaking French made it difficult to link up in a foreign place with drinking buddies. At that thought, Dan smacked his forehead with his palm; the dwarf had been speaking English. He’d been too dazed by the man’s size and his bravery in approaching him to speak that he hadn’t realized it until now.

“Ah, yes, sit, dear giant. Sit with me, the house dwarf,” his companion said in a jolly tone. “What a pair we make, eh?  I am Henri Toulouse-Lautrec.” He gestured for Dan to sit across from him. "Call me Henri,
sil vous plait
."

It was awkward, trying to sit in a chair made for a man of average height, which would be about five foot nine to six foot. At six foot six, Dan found everything to be too small, furniture, doors, and occasionally ceilings. The little man opposite him had the same problem, just reversed. Henri's feet dangled from the chair, like a child sitting in an adult’s seat.

“I'm Dan Wilson. Call me Dan, everyone does. Thanks for inviting me to sit with you.”

“You looked uncomfortable in the crowd,” Henri said, again in a joyous, sibilant tone. “And I can understand that feeling well. Where are you from?”

He scrunched up his face and thought about his answer carefully.  “America.”

“Americans, I adore meeting Americans visiting Paris for the first time. The sense of awe and wonder—it is amusing. And what brought you here, the desire to become a famous artist, a playwright, a poet? If so, you're in good company."

Dan smiled. He'd met the locals. Mostly artists or literary wits. And all of these self proclaimed geniuses were residing in the humble village of Montmartre.

"Ah ha, I have you, which is it, artist or writer?" Henri's exuberant grin made his face light up. "Artist, I should think."

"No, no. I'd love to learn, someday. Paint nudes. But, no, I'm a physician, of sorts."

"Hmmm, I see. Are
of sorts
a growing problem in the medical community? Are they similar to warts? Is it an American condition, this
of sorts
, something we Parisians should worry about?"

Dan guffawed and reached into his pocket to withdraw a cigar. Henri reached into his pocket as well, withdrawing a cigar and a miniature box of matches. He lit a stick, and held it out for Dan to light his cigar first.

He wasn't going to tell the folks in this time period he'd studied medicine as a male surgical  nurse in the army. That would seriously hurt his reputation, as nursing was still considered a female chore, not a profession. The new Paris
Ecole de Medecine
was open to all men who qualified to study medicine, regardless of wealth or background. And as the esteemed school offered free lectures to foreigners, he thought it might benefit him to take part in some of them if his idea of re-inventing himself as a doctor in this time took his fancy. The afternoon lectures he attended had been a hoot, and he did pick up a few things from them. 

"I'm here with my daughter and her husband. They came for the exposition, and I'm tagging along, hoping to augment my medical education." It wasn't exactly the truth, but it was a good cover story. No one would believe they'd just waltzed through time and stopped in Paris of eighteen-eighty-nine on a whim. "I'm thinking we might settle here for a while."

"You will love it here. I do." Henri puffed on his cigar. "I left my family years ago, and came here to discover the artist within. I've not wished to go back home to my father,
le comte
. I am told I am a disappointment to him." He waved his cigar with a flourish, his round spectacles making his eyes appear even wider with affront. "Can you believe such cheek? He does not appear to be aware of what a disappointment he is to me."

As the evening wore on Dan found himself laughing at his new friend's wit and enjoying the second set of the dancers as their high table gave them a perfect view of those alluring legs than most of the gentlemen gathered to watch on the main floor.

19th century Paris, God, I love it here
. The Bohemian lifestyle of local artists and wits, the pervasive joy of life, and the casual acceptance of new things. Yeah, he preferred this time to the turbulent eighteenth century with its wars and revolutions. 

Whether Tara and Adrian settled here permanently or not, Dan wanted to stay right here, with Henri, Arthur, and even moody Paul. He wanted to remain in this time period, and perhaps make a name for himself as an artist or even a physician.

*     *    *

Adrian led Tara back into their own apartment.

She was not prepared for the sight that met her eyes. Their humble lodgings had been transformed into a tiny mansion. Gilt edged frames holding elegant paintings lined the walls.  Rich, gold velvet curtains hung at the window. The old tattered sofa had been replaced with a new model of bright crimson upholstery. Two new reading chairs were adjacent to the sofa on either side, creating a serene sitting area. A rich red and gold floral carpet covered the bare boards.

And that scarred old table was now an elegant mahogany dining room set in which the dark wood gleamed in warm tones in the golden candlelight. Even the stove had been updated from a severe and raw black iron model to a new one with white enamel paint and shiny chrome handles. The ugly apple green cupboard was gone, replaced by a beautiful, sleek china hutch that bore actual china and crystal.

"How did you do this?" her voice drifted off as she gazed about the room with wonder. She had been out little more than two hours. There was no way Adrian could have gone shopping for all this, had it delivered and set up in that time.

Their lone oil lamp had been replaced by several elegant frosted globe lamps that lit up the small living space from each corner. The soft light revealed a cozy, comfortable home instead of the bland rental it had been. The old tenement buildings in Montmartre had not been renovated for gas lighting as the wealthier districts of Paris had, so the tranquil glow of oil lamps was the only option, aside from cheap tallow candles.

"I sought your brother's assistance in making this a proper home for my lady."

He accepted help from the fairy realm, something he'd claimed he couldn't bring himself to do as it would trespass some ambiguous rule in his mind.

Was it because Mick was a man, and taking help from a male was easier than from her?

Whatever the reason, it pleased Tara to know that Adrian was capable of amending his obstinate opinions in some areas. Perhaps there was hope for their future as man and wife.

"You didn't feel it a grave transgression to ask my brother to provide for your needs?"

His eyes were like a soft caress on her skin as he drew near. A hand cupped her cheek, and light fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I didn't ask him to provide for
my
needs
. I asked him to help me make this place more lovely and agreeable for you. Mick and I agree on one point; you are a fairy queen. As such you deserve every consideration for your comfort due to your high position in both our hearts."

Put in that way, Tara could not argue the finer points of their earlier quarrel. She could only gaze into his sultry gray eyes with astonishment.

"I want to give you beautiful things. I want to worship you with gifts." Adrian's voice slid down her spine like warm honey. His lips hovered close to her neck, lingering so his breath caressed her skin.  "It is an honor for a mortal to be loved by a fairy, a rare and precious gift." 

She'd rather they were equals in this relationship. A man and a woman in love, not lords or highborn queens. Tara raised up on tip-toe to seize his lips in an impassioned kiss. He was making love to her with words. She wanted to love him with her body.

The touch of her lips on his, of their mouths melding together with desperate need kindled his desire as she hoped.

Adrian crushed her to his chest and seared his name on her heart with his possessive kiss.

Drawing away slightly, his hands circled her waist and Tara was bore up like a dancer in his arms with her hands on his shoulders. Adrian whirled her through the room in a seductive waltz and then glided toward their bedchamber. Once there, his lips sought forgiveness for a transgression that no longer existed.

Tara couldn't maintain anger with this charming man for his deep-rooted mind-set that placed her so high on a pedestal in his heart. It was foolish to resent him for trying to prove his love to her so thoroughly, so completely.

To Adrian, love meant taking care of his woman, providing for her, protecting her, shielding her from the distasteful things in the world. Having been alone for so long, Tara was unaccustomed to having someone worry over her, having someone care so deeply about her future happiness. It was a wondrous gift, one she must cherish. If not for such a potent, all consuming love, she could be right beside Gisele in the dance clubs.

Adrian set her on her feet and closed the door against intrusion. Tonight, nothing would tear them apart. He needed her. Oh, how he needed her, and she hungered for him.

Oh-oh, the bed
! She pulled back from his kiss, concerned by the boxes she'd left piled on the bed when she left in anger. The sight greeting her eyes was like something out of a fairytale, like a sultan's chamber in the
Arabian Nights
. The old brass bed with its faded blue quilt was gone. In its place was a round mattress with a red silk bedspread and mounds of pillows covered with gold and red fabric. Gold fabric panels draped in graceful arcs from the ceiling about the bed, festooning it in a cloud of shimmery silk wrappings.

"How do you like your new fairy bower, my love?"

"It's beautiful," Tara murmured.

She felt like Cinderella, only instead of having a pumpkin and mice turned into a coach, her small utilitarian apartment had been turned into a luxurious suite. New globe oil lamps lit the corners of this room as well. Their orbs cast a warm, soft circle of light around the bed. And in the corner, just beyond the small open closet, she spied a copper bathing tub, a full size tub. Its hammered metal side gleamed like a rippled ocean of orange and gold as it reflected the lamplight on the metal exterior. The inside lining was of white porcelain.

"Where are my gowns?" She looked up at her lover as he set her on her feet. The gowns had been the reason for their argument in the first place.

"I put them in the closet," Adrian whispered as his lips nibbled at her ear.

He stepped back and removed her striped satin jacket for her, and carefully placed it on the back of an upholstered gold and ivory striped parlor chair that had taken the place of the plain wood chair next the now drape festooned window.

Her blouse was tugged from the confines of her skirt. Adrian slowly lifted it over her head. He admired the corset she wore, leisurely taking in the swell of her breast rising above the padded fabric. "We'll need a new one of these, my pet. One of red silk, with black lace about the edges." A fingertip moved down the slope of one breast, seeking the tip confined beneath the tight binding. "Unless you think it too scandalous to wear a red corset beneath your clothes."

"Not at all." Tara liked this game. She would enjoy it more if she could feel his warm skin beneath her fingers instead of the fabric of his shirt. "I'd like to see you find one for me, Lord Dillon."

"I'm told they exist. The bawdy house girls wear them at one of the lairs Dan creeps out to in the night. We can obtain one for you quite easily, Lady Dillon." He unbuttoned her skirt and lifted it over her head. Once she was free of the skirt, Adrian draped it on the chair with care. He  went down on one knee before her. Firm hands outlined her hips and then he cursed as his fingers met an obstruction when he sought to cup her butt in his palms.

Tara gazed down at her prince charming with apology. She still wore the bustle cage. It formed a waterfall of cotton padding over a wire bump that covered her backside. Beneath that, she had on a petticoat and those cotton pantalets Gisele  insisted were proper attire for a lady as she'd gone to dinner in a high society restaurant tonight.

"For the love of St. Patrick, woman, where are you?" Adrian's brow creased as he studied the rest of her attire with perplexity. "These Victorian ladies are severely overdressed."  His long, lean fingers untied the strings of the bustle and tossed it behind her with annoyance marring his handsome features. "I've never had to work so hard just to find you, my darling girl."

Next would come the petticoat. First, he reached up to cup her ass with his hands, kissed her belly, and just hugged her for a long moment before his fingers untied the petticoat strings.

The white garment floated soundlessly to the floor.

Adrian tugged her pantalets slightly, just enough to reveal the skin above her muff. His lips moved slowly over the exposed flesh, making her moan with delight as tiny prickles of excitement heated her blood.

She slipped her hands inside her pantalets to push them down her hips and speed their progress, but Adrian's big hands caught her movement and held her hands still.