A Kiss in the Night (46 page)

Clair decided she might as well make her lady perspire, just a little. "How did you know?"

"He rode with me through the gates. He told me all about you."

"Did he? In such a short time.''

"Indeed—"

She never finished. Paxton, certain he was dreaming, still quite unable to absorb all that had happened in the last half hour, could wait no more. He reached under her and, laughing, swept her up in his arms. "'Tis a tradition in our country for the groom to carry the bride through the doorway to the bedchambers—"

Everyone parted happily for the lord and lady, smiling at the good fortune, Lord Paxton's understandable eagerness, the bride's blushing modesty as he carried her into the entrance hall and proceeded hurriedly, without interruption, up the stairs and down the hall to his apartments.

The sound of their laughter quieted as the door shut.

Paxton set her on the bed. Her hair spread in a riot of dark color over the bedclothes. He came on top of her. For a long moment they just stared at each other.

"I'm dreaming," he finally said as his senses filled with the heaven-made sweetness of her scent and the warmth of her body beneath him. "From the moment I first saw you running to us, throughout the hasty explanations, John's mad plotting, then presenting you as my wife, all the way until now, I keep thinking I am dreaming, that it can't possibly be true. I keep thinking any moment I will wake and you will be gone. Linness!” He kissed her mouth and closed his eyes to confess, "I am afraid."

Her silver eyes filled with sadness and pity.

There were no words that could ease his fear, for she felt it, too. Just seeing him, feeling his hand travel over her face and neck, over and over as if to reassure himself she really lay there, brought a surging sense of joy, but some bewilderment, too. For it was too good to be true. Their fortune had shifted too dramatically for easy comprehension; it would take time to adjust to their changed fates.

Fortunately they had the rest of their lives.

She suddenly slipped from beneath his arms and rose from the bed, and as he watched her, he thought again, it was a dream "Linness," he murmured in this dream.

He watched as she reached her thin arms behind her back to the buttons. His favorite dress because it came off the quickest. Lord, how he loved that dress. It slipped off her shoulders and fell into a pile at her feet.

He felt another rush of heat to his loins. More as he watched her undo the laces of her undergarments, ripping the bodice laces and pulling that off, stepping out of the whole. The dream was alarming for its vividness of detail.

He stared at the naked beauty shrouded in firelight.

He still made no move, waiting for the apparition to leave, disappear, vanish into the air from which it emerged. "I must be mad now.’

The words made her stop and stare as the magnitude of this point crashed through her consciousness. She had come so terribly far. She understood in sudden clarity her whole life was lived to reach this one point. She had stood on a cliff, overlooking a deep and dark death, waiting for a push over the side, but instead of falling, against all expectation and cruel turns of fate, she discovered she did in fact have wings for flight.

She said, strangely, in a whisper of tears, “I am your wife now." She smiled as another tear escaped from the corner of her eyes. "I am here now and...forever. Forever, Paxton." In a compelling whisper still, she added, "When Morgan freed me, when he let me go, Michaels and I rushed through the days and nights to reach you here. During that whole time only one thought sustained me, and that was this moment. The moment when I told you that I am yours forever, for each blessed day of our lives, bound by our love. forever.”

The words turned over slowly in his mind.

He didn't understand the jolt of his heart, numbing in its intensity. Not yet. He still thought he might be dreaming, that this was an even crueler trick, that this was the newest form his madness had taken. In all his life he never felt more fear than at that moment. For he was afraid if he stood up and reached for her, she would fade into the stark white walls behind her.

She was a dream too wonderful to be real.

She stepped to the bed. Tension worked into every fiber of his being as she came over him. Her hands braced against his shoulders as she straddled him; he felt the shocking and real warmth where her softness touched him. The perfume of her hair penetrated his senses as he stared at the fire-lit features of her face, the love shining from her tear-filled eyes as her mouth lowered to touch his lips, once, lightly, before she drew back, opening her eyes to study his reaction.

"Linness, I am dreaming..."

"The only dream that ever mattered, milord. I'll kiss you again to see if we wake…”

Afterword

This book is unlike any other I have written. As I was doing research on Mont Saint Michel, France, hoping to set my next novel there, and reading through historical books on sixteenth-century France, I came across an intriguing reference to a young girl, one of the last women condemned to die at the stake on the charge of witchery. The reference was written by a famous theologian and it included a nobleman's response to the rumors that claimed his paternal grandmother was this very same girl who was tried and condemned by the church for the practice of witchcraft. Intrigued, I began a search for more details about her extraordinary life.

The fantastic facts are mercilessly bare and brief, with only the most significant occasions marking the timetable of her life. As one of her grandsons wrote many years later in the late sixteenth century, he could not in faith deny the old rumor. He would only say that if his grandmother's life constituted a stain on his family's honor, so be it, for the subsequent generations who grew and thrived from this red mark owed its very lives to the shining light of his grandparents' extraordinary love.

The curious reader will want to know the bare facts of our heroine's life. All that is known is that she was born poor and fatherless, and like many peasants at that time, she did not have a surname. She was placed in a convent as soon as her startling powers were perceived; she was said to be a seer, and touched by miraculous visions of Mary, the very things that eventually brought the church's powerful wrath upon her and condemned her to die at the stake.

The girl was rescued from this cruelest of deaths by the valiant sword of a young nobleman, who was said to have fallen deeply in love with her. The theologian had found three different priests who claimed to have witnessed her rescue. Facts leave us at this point. There is no explanation of how she—a mere peasant—came to be married to the young nobleman's older brother. Nor are there details of her years of marriage, though records of the family's vineyard harvest were scrupulously kept during these years.

Her death, too, is shrouded in mystery. She was said to have inexplicably disappeared in a river after a series of miraculous visions, but that she was actually dead was disputed by the church for many years. All we know is that within weeks after this disappearance, her lover, a man of considerable wealth and landed titles, met with his Italian bride for the first time, and this woman bore a remarkable similarity to his brother's recently deceased wife.

There are a number of historical references made to the family on which this story is based. (The name has been fictionalized and there are numerous descendants in France, the United States, and Canada who can trace their family history back to this sixteenth-century beginning.) Many of these references allude to the rumor that the lady was not of noble birth.

One reference seems particularly interesting. It was taken from a collection of letters written by the Italian ambassador to the French court. This man had returned from abroad where he stayed with numerous distinguished members of the French nobility. Most of the following letter concerned wine production, but he also said this about the lady of the manor:

…
I must confess, after meeting her, my suspicions mounted. She does not look Italian, though that is not damning by itself, as many northern Italians are quite fair. She has a lovely pearl complexion and indescribable pale-colored eyes, a gray color, neither blue nor metallic, somehow suffused with the sun's warmth. Despite the fact that she is well past the first blush of youth, nearing thirty-five years, I found her more beautiful than even the rumors claimed. For there is that special light about her, commonly considered an "inner beauty."

The Lady has given her husband three sons. These boys were exhausting, mild boys each, like the older uncle, from whose constant rebellion both parents seemed to derive endless amusement. The Lady swore she loves nothing more than spending the better part of her day chasing them down, which she does even though she recently gave birth to a baby girl, a dark haired, blue-eyed child, who seems the very light of her parents' lives. They christened the child Joy, which seems strange to an Italian, but as you well know, there is no accounting for French tastes (with the noteworthy exception of their wines, of course).

Most of my suspicions, however, arose with the astonishing discovery that she can speak no Italian. The lady claims she has been away so long, she has completely forgotten her native tongue. She only laughed at my shocked bafflement…

And from this humble outline of the bare facts, I invite readers to draw their own conclusions on the veracity of the story of Linness of Sauvage, a simple peasant girl who rose through the grand corridors of French nobility to at last fulfill a remarkable destiny and claim the greatest treasure of all. . .

A special note to my treasured readers:

If you enjoyed reading this book, would it be possible for you to write a review at the place from which you purchased it? These reviews have been so kind to me and this means so much! Not only are they much appreciated, (I wish I could underline that!) but they help direct other readers to my stories. And if I could collect enough favorable reviews, it might convince a publisher to take my next book as well.

One more thing: Be sure to try A Kiss In The Night, Forever and a Lifetime, Awaken My Fire, With One Look, Passion’s Joy, and Virgin Star, all five star romances.

THANK YOU! (

Caps for emphasis!)

Jennifer