Everlasting Enchantment (26 page)

Millicent stared through the glass panes of the enormous mansion, trying to understand what Gareth was doing. At first she thought he might be speaking to himself, but then she spied a small creature standing near him. The little man had a tail, and rounded features, and a mischievous grin. She could not imagine where Gareth had found the thing, or what they could possibly be discussing.

She swished her tail, paced in front of the double doors. Her journey to Ipswitch had been uneventful—save for the herd of cows, and then unicorns, she had spooked once or twice. She had avoided the roads, using them only as guides, and had traveled mostly at night, her dark fur forcing her to stay to the shadows of the woods within the daytime.

The sun had shone for the few days she had traveled, in a bright sky that seemed too far above her to be real. The wide-open spaces of the moors had made her fur prickle with discomfort, and yet… there had been something intoxicating about padding through tall fields of corn, skulking in grass, and stalking dinner in bushes. The were-cat inside her had often prompted her to run through meadows for no reason other than to glory in the joy of it.

While Millicent had glared suspiciously at every hedgerow and woodland, her beast had purred with a quiet contentment, as if some ancient memory of a habitat she had once thrived in had suddenly awoken.

An owl hooted off in the distance, and Millicent lowered to a crouch, staring off into the deepening night. She stood on a large balcony one story above the ground. She had prowled around the stone building for hours, sniffing for a scent of Gareth, but too many other smells had interfered with her search. Clean smells, foreign to her nose. But then a strong, spicy scent had reached her, and she had seen the light above her shining from the double doors of the balcony.

And had spied Gareth within the enormous room.

And now stood dithering outside it.

Millicent took a breath, and shifted to human. She spread her hands, loosened her shoulders, glanced down, and smoothed the folds of the bronze gown. She had not resumed her human shape for days, for it was easier and safer to travel in her were-form.

Millicent had no idea if she looked a fright or not.

She smoothed her hair, adjusted the silly hat on her head. She should be grateful the magic of her transformation kept her clothing on her; otherwise, she would be standing here naked.

Stop, it, Millicent. You are stalling. Now that the time has come, you’re afraid to face him, aren’t you?

She reached out and tried the door. At first the handle seemed to be locked, but when she jiggled it a bit, she heard a faint click. Millicent took a breath, gave it a push, and stepped into the room.

And nearly swooned from the smell.

A scent stronger than the underground rivers at low tide, but with a completely opposite aroma. Spicy, heady, sweet, and glorious. What on earth had Gareth been burning inside that fireplace?

He sat on a velvet fainting couch he had dragged from across the room, based on the skid marks on the wooden floor. The small creature with the curious tail had vanished. Gareth stared into the glowing flames of the fireplace, muted now to a soft, pearly light. The light danced on the sharp planes of his face, on his full lips and round eyes. But those eyes held a bleakness Millicent had never seen before, and a tightness about his mouth spoke of a forlornness that tugged at her heart. His golden hair looked unkempt, as if he had run his fingers through it so many times he had worried out the curls. He wore a smart coat, and equally smart trousers, with a brocade waistcoat and a clean white cravat. Every bit the English aristocrat the queen had made him.

Millicent missed his woolen hose and loosely woven tunic.

She took a step toward him, her skirts making a whisper of sound on the floor.

He looked up. Met her eyes.

And held Millicent transfixed for an eternity.

How could she define the bond between them? How could she have known how special this feeling was? She did not chide herself for a fool. It had taken her some time to open her heart, and she had needed that time. But she would not allow anything to stand between them now.

Not her fear. Nor any fey magic. Not even Gareth himself.

Millicent took a deep breath and then asked, “Will you ever forgive me?”

He blinked. “For what?”

“For breaking my promise to you.” She took another few steps closer to him. “For taking so long to see the truth between us.”

He set aside the cane he had been gripping in his hands and rose, but did not approach her. When he spoke, his voice was low, his words barely crossing the distance between them. “What truth is that, Millicent?”

He said her name like a benediction, like a caress. Millicent took another few steps toward him, as if some magical tether gently pulled her to him without a conscious thought of her own. “That we… you know I am not good with words, Gareth. Not like you. You come from a time where ballads and poetry were recited every day…”

Gareth crossed strong arms over his broad chest, and raised his brows. So, then. He would not allow her to excuse herself from answering.

“We are… one soul. Together.” Millicent continued to walk toward him, trying very hard to put her feelings into words. “I did not know I needed anyone. I did not know I needed to be a better person, or that someone could manage even to make it so. I did not know I needed
you
, until you came into my life and changed everything.”

He just stood there in silence, staring at her. But the expression in his pale blue eyes… the sadness began to fade.

Millicent tried harder. She owed him that. She owed him everything. If necessary, she would spend her entire life composing ballads to him, if it made up for the pain she had caused. “You make me feel whole. You bring such goodness and light to my life. To my heart. You are the sun to my moon, and the moon to my stars…”

His lips twitched, and he could not suppress a smile. Millicent had the feeling he worked very hard not to burst into laughter.

A growl of annoyance shivered up her throat. “Well, I shall never make it as a poet; that is obvious. But it is the best I can do, Gareth.”

She stood near enough to touch him now, right in front of the massive fireplace. The scent of the burning wood made her head spin. Or perhaps it was just his nearness.

“Millicent.” He closed the distance between them. “Do you love me with all your heart, dearest? That is all you need to say.”

He touched her cheek with his hand, and she closed her eyes and leaned into the embrace. “Yes, Gareth Solimere. I love you with all my heart… a heart that can never be whole without you.”

She heard his breath hitch, felt his arms encircle her. “I love you too, dearest she-cat. I think I have from the moment you put Merlin’s bracelet on your wrist.”

And then his lips met hers, and Millicent’s knees went weak, and she leaned into him for support while he kissed her breath away. She would have stayed like that forever, caught up in his embrace, but a sudden flare of light lit her lids, and her eyes flew open.

Gareth turned his head to stare in amazement at the fireplace, and she followed his gaze.

A circle of flame surrounded a white glowing object, roughly egg-shaped and with a pearly iridescence of reds, oranges, and yellows. A crackling sound echoed through the cavernous ballroom, louder than the crackle of the fire, but softer than the snap of a twig.

“What is that?” she asked, suddenly remembering the odd little being and Gareth’s intensity for building the fire. As if she had summoned him with her thoughts, the small creature appeared from above the mantel of the fireplace, swinging open a painting that hung there as if it were a door, and jumping nimbly down to the parquet floor.

He wore an odd assortment of expensive fabrics sewn together in a haphazard fashion, and did, indeed, sport a tail through a tear in the back of his trousers. He had hunched shoulders and a wide grin and knobby features.

“New question,” Millicent whispered. “What is
that
?”

“A hobgoblin.” Gareth frowned. “He came with the house. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”

The orb in the fireplace flared again, making her narrow her eyes. A new crack appeared in the pearly surface.

The little creature jumped up and down, clapping his hands in glee.

“Parsnip,” said Gareth. “What’s happening?”

Parsnip?
mouthed Millicent. But they both ignored her, their eyes intent on the thing in the fire.

“Oh ho. Methinks… yes, methinks she is finally hatching.”

Hatching?
mouthed Millicent and then clamped her lips shut, refusing to feel like a dunce a third time.

The circle of burning branches surrounding the egg flared into swirling columns, dancing madly about the object as the cracks in its surface began to spread. To grow. Pieces of white shell broke outward and fell onto the burning ash. Something lay inside the egg. Something with a tiny yellow beak and fiery red feathers.

A shiver shook Millicent from head to toe. She glanced from Gareth to the thing in the fireplace.

No, it could not be possible. “Where on earth did you find a firebird’s egg? And why are you hatching it, instead of the mother of the creature?” Millicent could only think Gareth had found it somehow. That the mother had been killed and he had rescued the egg and brought it back to Hobover House. Or perhaps, like the hobgoblin, the egg had
come
with the house?

Parsnip turned and raised a knobby finger to his wide mouth. “Hush, now. The wee thing must concentrate on breaking out of her shell, don’t ye know?”

No, Millicent didn’t know. And she couldn’t imagine what Gareth had been thinking to try to foster a firebird. The creatures could spit flame, for heaven’s sake. And until they grew old enough to control it, burst into fire at a moment’s notice.

And then it struck her. Had Gareth purposely sought out a firebird for Millicent? To somehow replace Nell? She shook her head, wishing he had spoken to her first. No one could replace Nell. She had left a hole in Millicent’s heart that even her love for Gareth could not quite fully heal. But Millicent had come to accept that as a part of her. She would not allow the pain to keep her from fully loving Gareth. But perhaps he hadn’t known that until now, when she had come to him.

The very small firebird finished pecking its way out of its shell, and tried to stand on its new legs, but managed only to tumble head-over-feathers out of the fireplace, coming to an abrupt landing on the hearthstone. Parsnip jumped out of scorching distance, and began to croon to the baby bird.

“Do you know how hard it is to hatch a firebird in captivity?” murmured Millicent.

“Alas,” replied Gareth, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “This is no ordinary firebird.”

She glanced at his face. Heavens, he took her breath away. His eyes shone with triumph and joy, and his ordinarily handsome features now glowed with an almost angelic beauty.

Light to dark. He is the light, and I am the dark. But the thought no longer made Millicent sad, or made her feel unworthy. They balanced each other and were better for it.

The flames of the hatchling began to fade to a dull glow, and Parsnip strode over and petted the tiny head, murmuring reassuring words to it.

Millicent touched Gareth’s strong chin, made him turn to look at her.

“You did not need to do this. I… I need only you. Besides, you must know that this little creature cannot replace my Nell.”

His mouth softened, and his blue eyes danced. “No. I don’t imagine any ordinary firebird could take the place of your Nell. But you see, my dearest—”

An abrupt shout from the hobgoblin interrupted them, and they both turned to stare at Parsnip and the little baby… human.

“Eh, well,” muttered Parsnip. “Methinks the lady should take over from here.”

The infant screwed up her little face and began to squall. Parsnip placed his gnarled hands over his ears and winced.

“A were-firebird?” gasped Millicent. “Where in England did you find—” But she didn’t finish her question, because her body responded to the infant’s cries, even though she had no experience with children, and had no idea what she was doing… just that it felt right. She tore off the soft apron that accessorized her bronze gown, while her feet took her over to the baby, and then Millicent wrapped the child in the fabric and cradled it to her chest.

The tiny thing immediately quit crying.

A warm feeling washed through Millicent’s body. She stared down at the small bundle in her arms. The child had a cap of red fuzz on its head, and the most delicate face Millicent had ever seen. It had put its fist in its mouth and sucked fervently on it. And then it…
she
… opened her eyes.

Lavender eyes.

Millicent began to shake, felt Gareth’s warm arms surround her again, helping to support her and the baby. She leaned into his strength, and did not feel the lesser for it.

“How?” she breathed.

“Ah, well,” said her love. “I did not know she would come back as a baby, although I rather imagine it makes sense. I foolishly thought she’d be reborn to her old, crotchety self.”

“This is Nell? Reborn?”

“Aye. You introduced Nell to me once—what seems like a lifetime ago now—as Nell Feenix. Her surname has nagged at me since, and although it didn’t occur to me at the time, I gathered Nell’s ashes from the battlefield and kept them safe, for I could not abide the thought of leaving her there. But the Master is the one who told me the legend of the phoenix. And Parsnip knew how to make the nest, since long ago one of those creatures resided in Hobover House. I thought if I could bring her back, I could heal your heart… and then you would love me without reservation.”

Millicent’s breath hitched.

“But you came to me anyway, didn’t you?”

“Yes. You didn’t need—but I’m so glad you did.”

He placed one finger onto the baby’s hand and stroked the tiny palm. “I thought we had failed to bring her back. And then you kissed me.” He laughed softly. “Now I
know
there is magic in your kiss, my lady.”