Intertwine (41 page)

Emme gave a knowing grin. “How wonderful. I am so happy for them. Did our sudden disappearance cause you too much trouble? Did you have to resurrect the dastardly Buick Chevrolet to explain our absence?”

James chuckled appreciatively. “No, unfortunately. Though that would have been a nice twist to the whole tale,” he conceded with a nod. “With the tornado tearing up half the county, the severity of Georgiana’s illness went generally unnoticed. I put it about that you had accompanied her north to Liverpool, seeking treatment from Dr. Carson for her consumption.”

Emme nodded. “And your own disappearance? Please tell me it was a carriage accident.”

He grinned and pulled her closer. “Well, for the time being I have merely joined you and Georgiana in Liverpool. But Arthur will tell of
our
untimely death in a tragic carriage accident should we not return. And given that my death has already been announced, that seems to be the case.”

Emme paused. “So you don’t think to return?” she asked quietly.

James was silent for a moment.

“You left your tablet with me, you know, in 1812.”

Emme nodded her head in agreement. “Yes. I didn’t have the heart to deprive you of Angry Birds. Not to mention
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies
. I know how much you wanted to finish it.”

She smiled faintly at his bark of laughter.

“I did finish the book. Delightful, by the way. Who knew that Lady Catherine de Bourgh kept ninjas? But I also found other things in your research notes that gave me ideas.”

Emme cocked an eyebrow at him in question.

“I remembered what you said about provenance and needing to make sure that things came forward in a respectable manner.”

Something was nagging at the back of Emme’s brain. Some little piece of a puzzle that she couldn’t quite put together. She frowned, thinking for a moment. Trying to drag it forward.

And then it clicked.

“Sir Henry’s coin collection! Your father’s coin collection!” she gasped.

James chuckled. “Exactly! I placed the collection in trust with my solicitors,
Hartington, Chatham and Ware.
Sir Henry, bless his soul, acted as advocate for the collection and ensured that it was properly protected.”

“But the collection was just sold at Sotheby’s. I heard it on the news. It went for some astronomical sum, over £100 million pounds!” Emme paused as another thought hit her. “I had that article on my tablet, about the sale of the coins. You recognized them?”

“I did indeed. It seemed fate had already provided me with a solution. I just needed to put it into action. . . . And I also understand it is bad form to mess with the space-time continuum.” That last bit said with a sardonic lift of his eyebrows.

“I’m going to make you watch
Back to the Future
. Then you’ll see what I’m talking about.” Emme wagged a knowing finger at him, her voice mock-serious.

“Well, it all worked. Marc was kind enough to stop by my solicitor’s office on the way down here. I assume Arthur will inherit. . . . No, I guess that is not quite right. . . . Arthur
inherited
Haldon Manor as my heir. In any case, it took some time—nearly two months of it obviously—but I managed to amend the entail before I left. After my supposed death, Arthur could move Duir Cottage into a separate trust for me to be held by our solicitors. It seemed vitally important to protect the portal. So in addition to the proceeds from the sale of the coins, I also own a beautiful cottage in the Herefordshire countryside that has a time portal in the basement. All in all, I thought I might explore the 21st century for a while.” He winked at her.

Emme laughed, stopped and threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly.

“I think that to be a perfectly brilliant idea!”

James chuckled and guided them off the path to stand under a tree somewhat sheltered from the rest of the park.

“Which brings me to another question. I have always wanted to see the West Indies, as you well know.” His smile was warm and buttery, melting Emme’s heart into a heavenly puddle. “And I understand it is possible to be married on a beach there. Under palm trees. At sunset.”

Emme’s heart jumped into her throat. Tears sprung in her eyes. “Oh, James,” she whispered.

He also seemed to be struggling with his emotions. He reached a hand up and brushed her hair, trailing his hand down her neck.

Feather light and scalding.

“Emme,” he murmured. “I love you, my darling. I have missed you so. . . . ”

His voice broke and James took a deep, steadying breath, his blue eyes liquid and naked, drowning in hers.

He continued brokenly.

“I have missed you so very much. The brightness of your smile. The quickness of your mind. The delight of your wit. I said I would go through forever and back to find you. But I would really prefer not to wait so long to have you as my own.”

Emme drank him in, loving every sound of his voice, every flicker of expression.

“Oh, darling,” she breathed, “there is nothing . . . nothing now . . . nothing then . . . nothing in any time that I love so well as you.”

She leaned forward and slid her fingers possessively into his hair. And then kissed him. Soft and slow. Lingeringly sweet.

James let out a small groan and then pulled back slightly.

“I promised myself I would do this properly,” he murmured against her lips.

With a deep breath, he took a step back and went down on one knee. Emme’s eyes widened, tears instantly threatening again. Really, hadn’t she already cried enough for one afternoon?

“Oh, James, kneeling and everything?” she asked.

James laughed. “No breaking my concentration, love. I may not care about propriety, but certain things are too important to not get just right.”

Taking her hand, he smiled into her eyes. “Dearest, darlingest Emme, will you make me the happiest of men and agree to be my wife? For now and forever?”

Emme nodded her head vigorously. “Yes!” she choked.

With a delighted chuckle, James surged to his feet and Emme drowned herself in his kiss again.

After a minute, James pulled back, much to Emme’s frustration. She tried to force his mouth back to hers, but he merely laughed softly and pecked her lips.

“I thought I would give this to you as a wedding gift, but I find I cannot wait.” He brought out a thin box from his jacket pocket and handed it to her, eyes expectant as he wrapped an arm tightly around her waist.

Puzzled, Emme slowly opened the box. Inside there was something oval and thin. Emme could feel the heft of it in her hand. Giving James a quizzical look, she handed him the box and then carefully unwrapped the object.

A golden locket emerged in her hand. Bright and polished, filigree covering its gilt frame.

Emme gasped, blinking through her sudden tears. The back of the locket was partially covered in transparent crystal. Under the crystal, two locks of hair were braided into an intricate pattern—one bright and fair, the other a dark chocolate brown.

Gilded on top of the crystal, two initials were nestled together in a stylized gold symbol. Emme sucked in a breath.

She traced the letters—E and F. Familiar. Like a sense of home.

And then she quietly opened the locket. And let out a small sob.

She had expected to see the portrait of James, staring enigmatically out at her.

But instead, she saw two faces.

His broad and crinkly smile, blue eyes dancing and kind.

And then there . . . next to him.

Her own face. Serene, happy, incandescent. Gazing out as if she held the world in her hands.

Both of them. Together.

All painted with Spunto’s careful detail. Each minute feature delicately rendered.

Emme glanced to the left of the locket case. She read the inscription.

To E,

throughout all time,

heart of my soul,

your F

Puzzled, Emme looked up.

“Still with the F?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” he replied softly and raised a hand to stroke her cheek in wonder. “That was the most important detail of all.”

“Really? The most important?”

James nodded. Leaned forward. Rested his forehead against hers.

“Indeed. Because I am truly your . . .”

He paused and smiled.

Then whispered one word.

There are moments in life that sear into the soul. Brief witnesses of something larger.

When so many threads collapse into one. Coalesce into a single beautiful truth.

This was one of those moments.

Emme gasped and let out a muffled sob and pulled him fiercely to her and kissed him.

Kissed him until people cat-called and whistled. Kissed him until shadows stretched and purpled. Kissed him knowing she would never, ever let him go.

Kissed him as that one perfect whispered word echoed in her soul.

Forever
.

Epilogue

H
appily-ever-after began on March 20, 2013 around 7:12 pm.

Though Emry Knight
née
Wilde generally considered it more of a continuation of her already blissful happiness rather than any real beginning.

Of course, her brother Marc, her mother and new sister, Georgiana, completely agreed.

Emme’s best friend, Jasmine, had merely smirked knowingly, stating she had always believed in this divinely mystical union of predestined souls. Emme’s new husband—dreamy in full Regency gentleman’s dress in colors of cream and tan—asserted that ‘mystical’ was far too tame a word to describe the depth of his love for her.

It all happened one beautiful evening on a secluded beach outside Nassau in the Bahamas.

Marc had walked her along the sand toward James, all broad smiles, his eyes full of wonder and promise. Georgiana as her maid of honor at his side, healthy and glowing. Emme had worn an ivory high-waisted Empire dress of flowing chiffon with a wildflower wreath in her hair. The new locket glinted around her neck.

Drawing near James, Marc had placed her hand in his, smiling as he pecked Emme’s cheek, telling James to care for her. James, for his part, had merely nodded, his eyes too full of emotion to speak.

They had said their vows over the lap of waves and the rustle of palm fronds, the sun skimming the horizon and bathing them all in golden haze. Promising to have and hold and honor, though Emme secretly added the words live and love and laugh, as well. Afterward, Jasmine—still dabbing at her eyes—had hinted at little Knights in their future.

It had been another perfectly perfect moment. But with James around, Emme had sort of given up counting perfect moments. There were too many of them.

Emme had thought nothing could be more delicious than James in full Regency dress. But then, that first week after coming through the portal, he had walked out in a pair of Marc’s designer jeans, a tight t-shirt and sunglasses.

Emme had melted into a little puddle on the spot. It was the closest Emme had ever come to a full-on swoon.

Life with James had most certainly not been boring. They spent nearly all their time in a constant whirlwind of travel. Moving almost nonstop from one new place to another. James’ curiosity seemed insatiable at times. He loved different people and different places, loved exploring the nuance of culture.

Marc had secured documentation for James and Georgiana. Emme had chosen not to ask him for too many details. His only comment had been that money could buy just about anything and that he had acquired everything legally. Sort of. Again, Emme wisely chose not to ask questions.

To Emme’s dismay, she still experienced the occasional traveling disaster. But somehow they were never as bad with James. He always found the unexpected to be thrilling, forcing her to see the fun in the situation (
Look, Emme, grubs! Who knew they could be so tasty?
). Marc had also been teaching marital art forms to James. While James, for his part, had helped Marc add ‘fencing master’ to his resume.