Those had been taken at the private ceremony in the chateau’s small chapel in the spring, as soon as she had been strong enough to walk. She and Gaston had renewed their wedding vows, with Royce as best man and Brynna as maid of honor.
“Give this to Jackie with the letter.” Celine smiled as she pressed it into Brynna’s hand. “She’ll have them developed. There’s a saying, in the future, that a picture is worth a thousand words. If nothing else convinces my family that I’m alive and well and head over heels in love in the Middle Ages, those should do it.”
Gaston came to stand behind Celine, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. “It is almost time.”
“Brynna, do you remember everything?”
“Aye, milady.” Brynna nodded, squinting at the two of them, as she always seemed to do when they stood so close together. “I will go first to your sister, and give her the letter and your other belongings, and speak to your family. Then I will find Lady Christiane, if I can, and explain to her what has happened to her.”
“Maybe she was meant to be with someone in the future.” Celine leaned into Gaston’s embrace, loving the feel of his strength surrounding and protecting her, his heart beating so close to hers, the little shivers she felt when he dropped a kiss on the bared nape of her neck. “The way I was meant to be here.”
“Aye,” Brynna agreed hopefully. “I will do my best to help her. And I will avoid the ... medium.”
“Media,” Celine corrected with a laugh. “Yes, it would probably be better to keep the whole thing in the family. I’d hate to see you subjected to battalions of paparazzi and reporters and TV cameras. Or end up as psychic-of-the-week on some talk show or infomercial.” She sighed. “As I said, there are going to be some things about the future you’re probably not going to like, Brynna.”
“But it will be an adventure!” Fiara said eagerly.
“Aye.” Brynna tugged playfully at her daughter’s braid. “An adventure. And we shall have a home where we can live in freedom instead of in fear. And the jewels and other items that the Duc has given us should allow us to enjoy many comforts.” She beamed at Gaston. “Thank you again, milord, for your generosity.”
“‘Twas naught but my thanks to you, Brynna, for all your help. Godspeed to you both.” Gaston glanced at the window and began to draw Celine away. “Roussette, it is time.”
“Good-bye, Brynna. Good luck!” Celine shared her friend’s excitement at all the wonders waiting on the other side of that window. She hoped the two of them would find the same kind of love and happiness she had found, with the help of a little moonlight.
Brynna scooped her daughter into her arms. “Farewell, milady. Thank you, milord. Farewell!” She went to stand in front of the window, and they could see her trembling just a bit.
Celine held tight to Gaston’s arm around her. He had walked her almost out the door, as if half afraid the moon might whisk her away. “I only wish everybody could be here to see this,” she whispered.
“I do not think this is a secret we can share with everyone,” Gaston said. “Or anyone. Remember what Ramsey told you about the importance of a ‘low pro-file.’ ”
“I know,” Celine agreed reluctantly. “The fewer who know, the better.”
The castle was almost empty but for a handful of servants and guardsmen. Royce was away at the summer tourneys, intent on making his name and his fortune. And Etienne—Sir Etienne, Celine corrected herself—had left for Paris, to find adventure of his own.
Gaston had knighted his squire in a surprise ceremony after their wedding, to reward him for so bravely risking his life for her. The teenager had barely paused long enough to put on his new spurs before galloping off to see the King, to ask if he might be considered a suitor for the hand of a certain beautiful and available lady by the name of Rosalind.
Celine leaned her head back and kissed her husband’s bearded jaw. “I know you’re right. It’s better if we just let everyone believe I’m exactly who they thought I was—Tourelle’s ward, from a convent in Aragon. A little strange, but definitely medieval. It’s just so darned difficult to keep a secret from friends. You know how I love to chatter.”
He chuckled ruefully. “Then I shall have to see that you have your fill of chatter, wife, when we visit Avril.”
Celine hugged his arms against her, eagerly anticipating their trip. They were leaving tomorrow morning, finally moving to their grand new home in the north, with a stop to see Avril and their six-week-old niece, and to pick up Groucho, whom they had left in Avril’s care. “I’m sure Avril will appreciate the company. From her letter, it sounds like her little Giselle is quite a handful even with—”