“I've decided to come into the sunshine, Rosalind.”
She threw herself into his arms. Tears of happiness streamed down her cheeks and she clung to him, wanting never to be denied again the feel of being in his arms, his scent, the low, rich texture of his voice.
“What changed your mind?” she whispered brokenly.
“What you said to me.” He stroked her hair, then pulled her back so that he could look down at her. “You were right, Rosalind. I am my own worst enemy. For years I have guarded my heart and wallowed in my self-pity. I did nothing until I was forced to act. It's no way to live, and it took all that you have taught me to finally see that. My father made the wrong decision. He should have stayed and fought. His surrender to the dark defeated us all before we could grow to understand that staying takes more courage. Your bravery inspires my own, Rosalind. I will not surrender my life to the beast, but I will fully surrender my heart to you.”
Her own heart soared. He had saved her, and now she would save him. “Whatever the future brings us, Armond, we will face it together. Two hearts are always stronger than one.”
He bent to kiss her. His lips had barely brushed hers when he sucked in his breath and staggered back from her. He went to his knees, clutching his stomach.
“Armond!” Rosalind shouted, rushing to bend beside him. “What is it?”
“I thought it had gone for now,” he gasped. “For two nights I have gone to bed a man and arisen a man. But the pain . . .” He paused to gasp. “It is the same.”
“How can it be?” Rosalind glanced up at the clear, sunny sky. “It is broad daylight!”
Armond didn't answer. His body contorted. Even so, he tried to rise. Suddenly he flew backward, landing hard against a tall column made of stone that thick ivy grew up and around.
Rosalind blinked in surprise. The last time she'd seen him change, he had not done that. Armond groaned in pain; then his body flew forward, smashing him hard against the brick walkway that wound through the dowager's garden. It
was as if some invisible force had taken ahold of Armond and battled against him.
Again Rosalind rushed to his side. He rolled over onto his back, gasping for the wind the fall had knocked from him. As she watched him, feeling helpless, his mouth opened wider, wider, she noted, than was humanly possible. His chest heaved, his body arched, and a bright light spilled from his mouth.
Rosalind screamed and stumbled back from him. The light streaming from his open mouth took form, took shape, though the form was not solid, for Rosalind could see through it. The shape was that of a wolf. It stood on all fours, staring at her. She stared back, mesmerized, hypnotized by its glowing eyes, brighter than the hazy light of its body. Brighter even than the light of day. She did not know why it stood staring at her, but she knew she must somehow banish it from them.
“Begone,” she whispered. “Begone from here.”
The spirit, for it had to be a spirit, turned its head to look at Armond, who lay frighteningly still on the ground; then it slunk away, through the flowers, the bushes and shrubs, and over the wall that enclosed the dowager's private garden. Rosalind sat shocked for a moment; then she regained her senses and scrambled toward Armond.
“Armond,” she cried. She tried to shake him. “Armond!”
He wasn't breathing.
Rosalind pounded upon his chest. “Armond!”
Suddenly he gasped, drew in a long, deep breath of air, and his eyes opened. “What happened?”
She nearly sobbed in relief that he had spoken, that he was breathing. “I don't know,” she whispered. “But thank God you are alive.”
He reached up and gently touched her cheek. He lay still for a moment; then he said, “It is gone, Rosalind. I don't
feel it anymore. All of my life, it has been inside of me, waiting to get out, and now it has.”
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she said, “The curse has been broken. You broke it, Armond.”
He shook his head. “No. You broke it. My love for you broke it. Love is the curse, but it is also the key. You forced me to face my worst enemy. To put aside my doubts, my fears, my self-pity, for one chance to love, and to be loved.
“I do love you,” she whispered.
He pulled her down to finish the kiss they had started earlier.
It was her fist ball as Lady Rosalind Wulf. The dowager's affair was quite grand indeed, and Rosalind knew that she and Armond were only invited because the woman doted upon them. Their presence caused whispers, to be certain, but Rosalind didn't care. There wasn't a man in all of London as handsome as her husband.
“Can you hear what they're saying about us?” she asked Armond. He had told her about the strange gifts he'd had since boyhood.
He paused to listen. Then he smiled at her. “Not a word.”
“Perhaps that is just as well,” she said. “Besides, I don't care what they are saying. I am the happiest woman alive tonight, and the luckiest.”
“You look beautiful,” Armond said, staring down into her eyes. “The dowager spent my money well.”
He looked beautiful too, although when she'd told him that earlier, he'd said men were not beautiful. He was wrong.
“I'm excited to see Wulfglen,” she said. “A nice quiet honeymoon in the country sounds nice.”
Armond frowned. “I still have no word from Gabriel, but if he has gone in search of Jackson, I know he'll return to the estate first. It is his one true love.”
Speaking of Gabriel made her naturally search the room for Lady Amelia Sinclair. Rosalind spied her friend across the room, standing next to a rather thin, pale young man. As if she felt Rosalind's regard, Amelia glanced in her direction. The pretty blonde blushed, then looked away.
That Amelia would still not publicly acknowledge Rosalind stung, but she refused to let anything spoil her evening. “I want to ride my horse,” she said to Armond. “And I want you to ride along beside me. I want to have a picnic.”
He smiled. “I would like another picnic as well. In your bed.”
Her blood heated with the sensual look he cast her. They spent a good deal of time abed together. She wasn't complaining. Her monthly menses had not visited her. Instinctively, she knew a child grew inside of her. She wasn't ready to tell Armond yet. She wanted to be certain.
“Rosalind?”
She turned, surprised to see Amelia standing before her. The pretty blonde took a deep breath and stepped forward, taking Rosalind's hand in hers. “I am so sorry to hear of your loss. I should have come around to visit you before now, but I have been fraught with the bother of making wedding plans.”
Rosalind lifted a brow. “You will marry Lord Collingsworth, then?”
Amelia sighed. “Yes, I will please my parents and society in that, but tonight, I rebel.” She turned to Armond. “I once told your wife that if I ever encountered you at another social event, I would ask you to dance.”
Armond smiled down at Amelia. “You are brave.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “The dowager has great faith in me to become the most shocking woman in London. I will not disappoint her.”
Reaching for Rosalind's hand, Armond said, “I would
love to dance with you, Lady Amelia, but first, I must dance with my lovely wife.”
“Of course,” Amelia said. “I shall wait right here for your return.”
Rosalind giggled as Armond led her toward the dance floor. He swept her up into the dance, and like the night she met him, it was magic between them. They moved in perfect accord, staring into each other's eyes. She glanced away long enough to see that several young ladies had joined Amelia, and Rosalind had a feeling that her husband would dance more than she did tonight. Society might come around after all.
She glanced back up at Armond and found him staring deep into her eyes. He bent close to her ear and whispered, “Have I told you that I love you today?”