Love’s Eternal Hope
Hope woke, gradually becoming aware that she lay in the strong embrace of a complete stranger. She felt strangely at ease, his scent familiar, his touch soothing. Her mind denied the recognition, but her body screamed in opposition.
To clear her vision, she blinked several times. When her eyes came into focus, she found herself staring into the chocolate eyes of a bronzed god. She sucked in a breath. His long, black hair glistened in the bright sunlight as it cascaded over his broad, naked shoulders and brushed against her cheek. Strong, hard abdominal muscles pressed into her side reminding her she remained in his arms.
"Who are you?" A strange language poured from her lips. "Why are you holding me?" She clamped her mouth shut, startled when the unusual language continued to roll off her tongue.
She tried to move her head in an effort to see where she was.
"Be still," the stranger said as he searched her head. "No lump."
"What happened?" How could she speak and understand a language she’d never heard before?
"You fell and hit your head."
She again attempted to wiggle herself free from his firm hold, but it only encouraged him to tighten his grasp.
"Be still. I will take you to the village."
"Village? What village?"
He motioned with a jerk of his head toward a cluster of roughly hewn cabins. "My village."
He stood, lifting her in his arms as if she weighed nothing. A gust of hot wind blew a fluttering object toward her face, tickling her nose. She brushed the object away, but it remained attached. A feather.
She glanced down and saw she wore a tan dress decorated with beads and feathers. Strange. It resembled a costume she’d once made for Halloween when she went as an Indian princess, except this dress was made from real animal skin, not the imitation kind she’d used to make her dress.
Smoothing her hands over the soft length of her dress, she gasped. Her hands. Young and smooth. No age marks, no dry sagging skin, no brittle nails. What the hell had happened? And thin, a good fifty pounds had disappeared.
On the verge of flipping-out, she thought back to the last thing she remembered before waking. A wish. Beautiful glowing lights. Drums. The fresh smell of rain and earth. What had she wished? Oh yeah, she’d wished she could go back in time to be with her ancestors. Could it be? Ridiculous. She didn’t believe in such nonsense, or did she?
It must be a dream. Heck, she could handle a dream and enjoy it too. In the arms of a gorgeous man, young and thin, what’s not to enjoy? She giggled. The man carrying her frowned. God, he was handsome, all tanned and chiseled. An invisible web of attraction spiraled through her. She sure knew how to pick her dream lovers. Yes, she’ d most definitely relish this dream. If Demi Moore could do it, so could she.