Yes. I’ll save her.
The devil’s hand rested on his skin and a blaze of pain seared through him, from beneath his hair, radiating over his left shoulder and scapula.And so it will be.
When Dimitri opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the ruby, dangling around Meg’s neck. She was sitting up, her eyes bright and happy, her hair tumbling down over her shoulders. Not a hint of ash or soot marred her lovely face, nor were her clothes torn or singed.
Dimitri sat up and realized he, too, was intact. Except for a soft throb over his shoulder, right where the devil had touched him.
The city blazed behind them, a few miles away. They smelled the smoke, which choked out the sun and cast a pall over them even here. But they were alive. Uninjured. And together.
London burned savagely for three days.
Meg remained with Dimitri for three months. And then, fully realizing her power as an immortal, she left for greener pastures: younger men, an immortal career onstage, and exotic travels.
After the destruction, it took years for the city to rebuild itself, disdaining lumber and using only brick and mortar.
In the same way, Dimitri rebuilt his own walls—stronger and more solid than they had ever been. Brick by brick.
“You look lovely, Miss Woodmore. Maia,”Alexander said, smiling.
She had her fingers curled lightly around his arm and they were, as planned, strolling through the gardens at Blackmont Hall. The roses still bloomed, but the spring flowers that cast such heady scents—lilac, lily of the valley, tulip—were all gone.
Pink dahlias and Russian sage marked the paths, along with thick green moss and neatly clipped boxwood. Lovely gardens. It was too bad their owner couldn’t enjoy them…at least, in full sunlight.
“Thank you, Mr. Bradington,” she replied.
They were alone. Her heart should be light. Itwaslight. It was, and she was happy and calm, and—dare she think it?—relieved.
“I do believe you should use my Christian name as you have done in the past,” he said, looking over at her. “After all, we are to be wed. Sooner rather than later, I hope.”
Maia smiled back and ignored the odd sinking feeling in her middle. “I hope so, as well, Alexander.”
Icould not hypnotize you.
You were never enthralled.
Maia blocked the words from her mind, along with the shame that washed over her. It couldn’t be true.
“I’m so glad you’ve returned,” she told Alexander.
She spied an ivy-covered pergola and changed direction so they walked toward it. Maia wasn’t certain what she had inmind, but the fact that it was shaded and out of sight from the back windows of the house could be a benefit.
“When shall we?”
Angelica.She couldn’t even think of a wedding until Angelica was safely home. And Chas had to walk her down the aisle. And Sonia must come from Scotland. “As soon as you can file for the license,” she replied.
She hadn’t told Alexander about her sister’s abduction, and certainly not about Chas’s occupation. How could she explain something like that? If she could stall until they got word about Angelica, at least…
“Will it be enough time for you? I can obtain the license easily within a fortnight. Will you be ready in two weeks? I know there is a dress to be made, but also flowers and invitations and announcements, and the food…and where would you like to have the ceremony?”
Maia’s insides warred between delight and misery. Here was a man who cared what she thought, who listened to her, who understood what she had to do. But she certainly could do nothing until her family was back in place. And safe.
And she couldn’t tell him. At least, not yet.
They’d reached the pergola. The shade from the clematis-entwined trellis covered a small area on the footpath, and, as if reading her mind, Alexander paused there, turning her to face him.
“As soon as possible,” she said, knowing that she would delay it if she had to. But perhaps something else to focus on now would be good. There were so many other things she didn’t want to be thinking about. “And I was hoping we could wed at St. Dunstan’s. It’s such a lovely little church.” Her heart was ramming in her chest as she looked up at her fiancé.
He was watching her with his gray-blue eyes. They always seemed so warm and affectionate, unlike those dark, flashingones belonging to…other people. And he wasn’t quite so tall, nor as stiff and forbidding. He never spoke rudely. He never seemed as if her mere conversation was keeping him from something more important.
