Silk and Shadows(154)

"There is nothing banal about happiness," Sara retorted. "If life as a country gentleman is a common ambition, that is because it is a good life. But you will never be banal. There has never been a man like you, and there never will be again. In spite of the way you deny it, you are a good man."

"As long as you think I'm good enough," Mikahl said, amused. After reaching into an inner coat pocket, he said, "Give me your left hand."

When she complied, he slid her wedding ring onto her third finger. Then he raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it with lingering reverence. "I want to be with you always, Sara," he said softly. "To make love with you, laugh with you, be silent with you. And most of all, I want to be the man that I am only when I am with you."

"And I want to be the woman that I am only with you." Sara's fingers tightened around the ring. "If you are willing, I would like to have a wedding ring made for you. One that matches mine."

"I would like that." After a thoughtful pause, he said, "Since I intend to stay in England, perhaps I should become Michael Connery again. We can tell people that I decided to Anglicize my name for the sake of simplicity. Will you mind being Sara Connery?"

Intuitively she knew that he was not only suggesting a name change, he was accepting his past—all of it, the bad and the good. That acceptance had come from healing. Finally, after too many years, the wounded boy was whole and had become a man.

In the half-light of the carriage, Sara looked into the vivid depths of his eyes. "I love you," she whispered as she lifted her face to his. "I'll always love you, whether you are Peregrine, Michael, or Mikahl."

Their lips touched, at first lightly, then in fierce declaration as they pledged their souls without words.

Pledge and promise turned quickly to passion and the trip across London passed in a haze of touch and love and laughter. On reaching Mayfair, Mikahl gave orders to continue to their home rather than to Haddonfield House.

When they arrived at their destination, he climbed out and let down the steps, then caught Sara around the waist and effortlessly whisked her from the carriage.

"Before I take you upstairs and make love to you," he said as he set her feet on the ground, "perhaps you should say good-bye to Peregrine, for I am a wanderer no more."

"So my hawk has become a dove?" Hair tumbled and eyes dreamy with desire, Sara caught his face between her hands. "Welcome home, wanderer, welcome home."