He rolled onto his back, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. She hadn’t been in love with the bastard. He let out a long, ecstatic breath. “Oh, Lucie. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I? You would still have killed him.”
He thought about it. Shadows shifted in the candlelight and sparks popped in the hearth. “Yes. I would have had no choice.”
“I stayed awake all night, trying to find another way out, but there wasn’t one. I knew you would hate me forever, but I would have hated myself more if I had let him die.”
“Understandable,” he said, tilting his head to savour her lush, chestnut hair and violet eyes. “Loyalty, indeed. I apologize for believing anything less of you.”
“You needn’t,” she said. “I could have pretended innocence with anyone else, but not with you. I couldn’t even bring myself to meet your eyes. I expected you to kill me, but it didn’t matter at the time. I was dead inside anyway.”
“I never hated you, Lucie,” he confessed at last. “I couldn’t, no matter what.”
“I tried to make it up to you and to England,” she said. “I terrified myself with some of the lunatic missions I took on.”
He shivered at the thought that he could so easily have lost her, that he could so easily have never learned the truth. “And I terrified you further by pursuing you constantly. War played havoc with both of us and countless others.” He rolled to face her again and pulled her into his arms. “Sweetheart, I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”
“Oh, Val,” she said, settling against him, their bodies entwined, a perfect fit. “I love you, too. We—we belong together. It’s always been that way.”
“Indeed it has, my love... But it’s different now. We don’t have to steal our moments of passion. We don’t have to play the game anymore.” Finally it dawned on him. “Oh, hell. We’ve been such fools. That’s why they sent us here.”
* * *
Drowsiness had begun to claim her, but she blinked it away. “What?”
“Er...did your spymistress happen to mention anything about marriage?” He tightened his arm about her. “Not Lord Westerly’s, but yours.”
“Only that...” She came fully awake again at the sparkle in his dark eyes. “She said marriage might relieve my boredom, and that I could choose my own husband this time.” Within her, something blossomed and grew. “Oh. What did your spymaster say?”
“Much the same—that marriage might be just what I needed—and of course he was right. He always is.”
“So is my spymistress,” Lucie said. “Do you think—Do you think they know everything?”
“Maybe,” he said, “but I for one don’t care. They’ve achieved their goal. Lucie, could you put up with another husband—a permanent one this time? Let’s go away from this tedious party and find a place of our own.”
A fountain of joy overflowed inside her. “I should like that, Val, but...”
“But what?” he demanded. “There are no buts. You’re mine.” Pause. “And I’m yours, and if we value our skins, we’ll obey what are clearly orders from above.”
“Yes, which means we can’t ignore our missions entirely. My spymistress told me that now I could use my magical abilities in peaceful ways. I think the war has damaged Lord Westerly, and a wife—the right wife—is just what he needs. And I have become close to Miss Southern, and I believe we must try to help her, too.”
“Very well,” Val said. “I’m game if you are. Any more buts?”
She smiled at him. “Yes, my darling. You will have to put up with a few Christmas traditions. You may even learn to enjoy them.” She would make certain he did.
“For you, I’ll even do that,” he said. “But you won’t tell our daughter she mayn’t play an evil spirit, will you? My father did that to my sister every year.”
“Of course not,” she said. “We’ll even invite your sister for Christmas so she can play one now.”
He grinned. “And you won’t tell our son he can’t climb on the roof to taunt the wassailers?”
She pulled away. “I can’t promise that, Val.”
He chuckled and drew her close again. “I can’t promise it, either. Will you marry me, Lucie?”
“Yes, Val, I will.” She wrapped herself around him and let out a deep sigh. Once, long ago, she’d thought of him as her harbour, her not very safe but perfect haven, but it seemed that he’d always been as adrift as she. Now she could be his harbour, too.
On earth peace, good will toward men...
The new beginning she’d longed for had come.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460322178
UNDER A CHRISTMAS SPELL
Copyright © 2013 by Barbara Monajem
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