Declan walked faster, nearly running now.
“Stop,” Declan called, his voice chillingly lethal. “Do not move.”
The figure spun toward the sound. Declan closed in. Helena darted right, trying to see around his large body. Without warning, Declan threw his arms up. For a long, breathless moment, he was frozen in this position, his arms outstretched like he was breaking a fall.
“Knightly?” he rasped.
“Declan!” answered a squeaky female voice, dizzy with delight.
Helena stopped so fast she almost lost her balance. She reached for the wall.
The cloaked figure threw back her hood. The face revealed was female, young, and stunningly beautiful. She had pale skin, short ebony curls, and light brown eyes.
Declan stared at her, still not moving, and the woman laughed and threw herself into his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“No,” Declan said, his brain churning to comprehend. Knightly Snow was standing before him—rather, she was hurling herself at him.
“No. No. No. No,” he repeated, his voice more hushed. His reflexes kicked in and he caught her, just as she crashed against him.
“Oh, Deck!” she whined, clasping to him like a crab. “I’ve waited so long for you to discover me.”
“Stop.Talking,” he growled, looking right and left.
By some miracle, no one had seen. He stalked from the door, unable to peel her from his body without considerable effort. When he passed Helena, he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her along.
“Oh, your friend!” sang Knightly Snow, still clinging to him. “She’s so pretty.”
She was here.
Knightly Snow was here.
In London.
She was not dead.
She’d not been abducted.
Hope swirled inside him with cyclone force.
He disappeared down the warren of corridors and stopped in the alcove with the toga statue.
“Miss Knightly Snow,” he recited formally, detaching her from his body, “meet Helena La—”
He stopped, considered the ramifications, and thought,To hell with it.
He continued, “Meet Helena Shaw. My wife.”
He turned to Helena. She gaped at him. Her eyes were larger than he’d ever seen. “Helena, meet the girl whose disappearance sent me to prison. Miss Knightly Snow.”
“H-how do you do?” stammered Helena.
“Your wife?” accused Knightly. “Declan! You told me you would never marry!”
“No,” he sighed. “Youtoldmethat I must not ever marry.”
“Silly Declan,” said Knightly, swatting his arm. “Why would I say something like that? I adore weddings!”
