Forever His(72)

Three months.

And what if her medical condition worsened by then? What about that ache she had felt in her back for several days? What if the bullet fragment was shifting even now? What if she didn’t have three months? What if she died before the next eclipse?

A sobbing, wordless cry of denial and doubt and fear tore out of her. She leaned against the cold glass, fighting tears.

No. Shaking, she summoned every bit of courage she possessed, refusing to give in to mindless terror. She had to hold herself together. Figure out what had gone wrong. Consult with Brynna again. Find a way to get home.

She heard a sound in the doorway behind her and spun around with a jerky, startled movement.

At first she couldn’t tell who it was, could only blink into the darkness, her eyes still dazzled from the moon’s brilliance. Then the wavering silhouette resolved itself into a tall, muscular, unmistakable form.

Gaston.

Her heart skipped a beat, then started pounding harder. She was still here, still in his time ...

Still his wife.

The tears she had managed to hold back suddenly started flowing down her cheeks—because in the smallest, deepest, most secret reaches of her heart, some part of her was glad. Glad that she had failed.

A small sob of confusion and fear and despair escaped her, and she almost took a step toward him. It didn’t make any sense: she wanted nothing in that moment as badly as she wanted his strength and comfort, to lose herself in the safe fortress of his arms. But the fact that she could not read his expression kept her frozen.

He stepped toward her. She could see that he held a piece of parchment crumpled in his fist—the note she had left for Yolande.

“What in the name of God are you doing?” he asked in a tone that might have been simmering outrage or complete disbelief. “What is this?” He held up the note. “What do you mean by saying, ‘I am going home and will never see any of you again’?”

Celine moved. Sideways, out of the light. “I—I was trying to go home.” Her pulse was roaring in her ears. Words came tumbling out in a rush. “I was trying to get back to my time just like I told you and it should have worked only it didn’t work and I—”

“I cannot believe that you would try this again.” He stared at her teddy as he moved into the shaft of moonlight.. “Did you expect me to come seeking you tonight? Did you think to trick me into consummating our vows when that garment failed you before?”

He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Or boots. He wasn’t wearing anything except a pair of form-fitting leggings. And she could see his expression now.

And it made her tremble.

His dark features were etched with a hard-edged mixture of desire and disbelief. His gaze swept her body in a single swift stroke that she felt like a physical touch.

“Th-his didn’t have anything to do with you,” she cried, her voice a shuddery sob. “I was trying to go home! I’ve been telling you the truth all along and—”

“If you expect me to believe that,” he said roughly, his voice deep, “you are even more naive than I thought.”

Celine slumped against the wall, covering her eyes with her hands, her head falling forward. It was one blow too many to find suspicion and lust and anger where she so desperately wanted understanding and compassion and comfort.

“P-please just leave me alone,” she said shakily, not looking at him, not wanting to cry in front of him. “You’ll never believe me. You’ll never believe anything I say. Just leave me alone.”

He moved so silently that she never even heard him.

Not away, but toward her.

She gasped when his hands closed around her wrists and he trapped her against the wall, between the cold stone and his bare chest, raising her arms and pinning her hands on either side of her head with slow, inexorable strength.

“What I believe, ma dame, is that you should be more careful in spinning your web.”

His eyes glowed nearly black in the silvery light, desire overpowering all the other feelings she had seen there.

Her heart and her breath seemed to stop. “Let me go! You can’t—I know you won’t consummate our—”

“Nay, Christiane, but I am an accomplished lover, and there are ways I could take my pleasure of you that would leave you a virgin.” He leaned into her, his body hot with arousal, his breath coming harsh and heavy. “I have lain awake nights wanting you, wife, and I will endure no longer.”





Chapter 14


Celine’s captive hands clenched into fists. “Wanting me?” She struggled against his grip, but that only pressed her breasts more firmly against his bare chest, leaving her shaking and breathless at the stunning contact. She lifted her chin, wishing she could wipe the too-obvious tears from her cheeks. “Why would you want me? I’d think you’d be more than satisfied after playing tables with girls like Isabeau night after night!”