Love Everlastin' Book 3 by Mickee Madden

penetrate her shield. Again, he
was denied access to her mind.
    He found himself staring
into her eyes and he gasped. Her expression wasn't one of ridicule
or pity, or even fear that he had indeed lost his marbles. She
was...curious. Curious about him and what had brought about his
romp in the snow. He didn't glean the information from her
thoughts, but rather sensed her mood. She was calm. Not the least
afraid of him, as she would be had she been assaulted by the likes
of the Phantom. His heart skipped a beat at the thought that Agnes
could have been right. That the Phantom was dead, and it was his
own projections contaminating his psyche.
    Gracefully, like the petals
of a flower unfurling to the rays of the sun, the stranger lowered
herself to a sitting position, partially facing him. She, too, sat
cross-legged, her delicate hands resting atop her knees. He'd never
met a woman whose hair nearly touched the floor, or whose eyes were
a brighter blue than the bluest sky. The silken strands framed a
heart-shaped face that bore an innocence he'd never before
encountered, not even in a child. He couldn't think of an adjective
that fittingly described her. Lovely fell short. Beautiful seemed
somehow harsh. His thoughts raced through a list until a word
glared across his mindscreen.
    Enchanting.
    Yes, she was
enchanting.
    "Hello."
    He thought he glimpsed a
ghost of a smile in her eyes, but he wasn't sure. Perhaps he was
merely being hopeful.
    Sighing, he snuggled deeper
into the quilt. "Thank you."
    Could she hear what he was
saying? He decided to cast a bit of bait to test her
reaction.
    "Ou' there...in the snow...I
was forced to battle a monster. It insulted ma mother and, being a
mon o' principle, I was left no choice but to defend her
honor."
    Nothing. She didn't smile or
blink. Just stared at him.
    "Do you have a
name?"
    Nothing.
    "How abou' if I call you
Tinkerbell? Helen O’ Troy? Lassie? Tweety Bird?"
    Deliah.
    The name didn't come from
her thoughts, but it came to him nonetheless.
    "Deliah? Is tha’ your
name?"
    She remained silent and
still, content to watch him.
    "Deliah," he repeated and
smiled. "It suits you."
    He stiffened when she
unexpectedly took one corner of the quilt and dabbed at the wetness
on his brow. When she settled back, she questioningly arched an
eyebrow at him.
    "Why am I nervous?" he
asked, pretending to know her thoughts. "Well-ah, I'm no'. No'
really. All right, I am. You have me as timid as a schoolboy
plundering through puberty. Why is tha', Deliah?"
    Silence stretched between
them for what seemed a long time. Winston was aware of his own
shallow breathing. He felt oddly at peace, as if he were in the
comforting embrace of sleep. A deep sleep without nightmares, only
nurturing escape from the cruel reality of his existence. He
wondered what it would be like to hold her dry form in his arms and
run his chin across her hair.
    His eyelids grew heavy and
he sighed contentedly.
    He thought about the garden
in the other dimension, and the woman who claimed to be the house.
A sleepy smile formed on his lips, and he felt himself floating
away from the fire in the hearth, floating through the air and
coming to rest upon the decadent softness of the mattress. He
imagined himself snuggling up to a warm and shapely form, spooning
himself against softness graced with subtle scents of flower
gardens.
    Winston drifted deeper and
deeper into healing sleep, unaware that Deliah had led him to the
bed and now lay on her side in front of him, his damp arms wrapped
possessively about her.
    She stared off into space
with a look of pure contentment on her face, her eyes mirroring a
spring garden which then only existed in her mind.
    Moments slipped by.
Diaphanous flowers and birds and butterflies materialized. A floral
scented breeze, warmed by a psychically-projected springtime sun,
passed throughout the room, causing the heavy drapes to gently
flutter and sway.
    When at last she closed her
eyes, the room had been