Forever His(148)

“Aye,” he said gently. “Roussette, you missed the dark of the moon. It happened two days past, when you were yet asleep.”

Celine didn’t have any reaction at first. All she could think was that it seemed strange, to hear him say that the night they had focused all their hopes and energies on for so long was past, and she had missed it. And she felt ...

Glad.

“It’s all right,” she assured him.

“Nay, it is not.” He glared down at the little flask. “Brynna tells me that there will be another dark of the moon, at midsummer. Roussette, it ...” He paused, swallowing hard. “Once, I asked you to return home and then come back to me, but it is another matter to ask you to stay forever. You would never see your family again. Never see your home.”

She lifted her eyes from the flask and gazed up at him with all the love in her heart. “I am home.”

He looked away. “You are tired. And confused by this potion Ramsey has given you. I cannot ask you to decide now. You have not thought of all you will miss. All the wondrous—”

“I am home,” she repeated firmly, remembering what she had told him once: that love was the only thing strong enough to build a future on. Not land or power or wealth.

And not electricity or cars or central air.

Love.

She took his hand, laced her fingers through his. “My home is with you. Now ... tomorrow ... forever.”

Despite his exhaustion, the smile he gave her made him look more handsome than she had ever seen him. With their joined hands, he knocked the flask aside, sending it rolling out of the way. And then he kissed her, very, very gently.





Epilogue


Celine decided to keep the Cubs hat. She wore it now, her long hair swept up beneath it, as moonlight streamed in through the window of the upstairs guest chamber, a shimmer of cool silver in the July warmth. The cap was one of her favorites, and besides, summer always made her think of baseball.

Few of her other belongings had sentimental value. Celine felt nothing but happy and lighthearted as she quickly handed over the last few items, one by one. There were only minutes left until the eclipse.

“Here’s my wallet. It has all my ID in it, and my credit cards—Mother never let me leave home without them. There’s a couple thousand francs in cash you can use, if you need to. And here’s the letter I wrote to my family, explaining everything. I’m sure they’re grieving and hopeless by now and I just have to let them know I’m all right.”

She handed over the folded parchment, sealed with wax that was stamped with Gaston’s lion crest.

“They’ll recognize my handwriting,” she continued. “If they have any doubts, they can always have it examined by an expert and compared with samples that they have. And my sister’s contacts at the university should be able to test the paper and ink with carbon dating or whatever. Once they do that, there shouldn’t be any doubt that you’re telling the truth. And here’s the guidebook. I know the lettering doesn’t make much sense to you, but there are some good maps in case you somehow get lost—but don’t get lost.”

“I will do my best, milady,” Brynna said with a smile, carefully placing each item into the embroidered cloth sack she held.

“According to what Dr. Ramsey and I figured out,” Celine added, “the years and the time-windows do seem to match up. He came here from 1989 and I came here from 1993, and he landed in 1296 and I landed in 1300. Four years’ difference, both ways. So you should appear in Manoir La Fontaine about seven months after I disappeared.” She felt a tug on her skirt and glanced down.

“Lady Celine?” Fiara asked, her laser-blue eyes wide and a little worried. “Will it hurt?”

Celine knelt and hugged her. “No, it won’t hurt, Fiara.” She smoothed a strand of blond hair back into the little girl’s braid. “It’s sort of like a dream—you go to sleep, and then you wake up somewhere else. Somewhere strange and wonderful. Except that it’s real. You’ll feel a little tingly and funny for a moment, but it won’t hurt.”

“And I’ll be a real moon-lady? Just like you?”

“Just like me.”

Fiara brightened and looked up at her mother, taking her hand. “Is it time yet, maman?”

“Soon,” Gaston said from his post near the window. “The dark of the moon has begun.”

Celine handed Brynna one last item: the roll of film from her camera. The first few pictures were shots she had taken of her family’s Christmas celebrations in 1993. The rest of the roll contained pictures she had snapped around the castle and grounds, and photos of an undeniably medieval wedding.