by Marina Myles
“I can’t read,” he said.
I forgot!
Elisabeth swept into the room and ripped the paper from his hands. “Let me see that!” She strode to the torch on the wall and read aloud by its light. “The spell book is not here. If you don’t want Ileana to be angry with you then take me away. I’ll show you where I put it.”
Elisabeth tore the note into tiny pieces and screamed, “Tell me! Tell me where the spell book is!”
Giselle mouthed the words, “I can’t talk.”
Incensed, Elisabeth raised a hand to strike her. A voice from the shadows stopped her.
“You wouldn’t hit an old lady, would you, Elisabeth?”
“Lucian?” She whirled around. “Where are you, darling? Are you all right?”
Silence greeted her question.
“Show yourself,” Elisabeth urged. “This has all been a misunderstanding.”
He stepped into the sphere of light and slid a look at Giselle.
It stirred her heart to beat faster, if only for a moment. He’d come for her, and she’d never loved him more than she did in this moment.
Lucian strode to Elisabeth. Stiffening, the girl took a step back. Giselle’s gaze shifted to Taur, who, in the darkness of the shadows, remained unnoticed by Elisabeth and Vacimo.
“I hardly think this is a misunderstanding, Elisabeth,” Lucian said. “You’re in league with Ileana Zpda and that’s that.”
“No.” Elisabeth’s hands trembled. “I was trying to change Giselle back.”
Giselle’s stare flitted back to Taur. Silently, he lifted a bottle marked “chloroform” off a shelf and poured some into the center of a handkerchief.
“You’re a conniving woman,” Lucian said. “Why would you help someone I used to love?”
Used to love? Giselle’s breathing slowed to a dangerous pace. She felt faint, but fought the urge to sink to the floor.
“Now my heart aches for Giselle,” Lucian added.
Elisabeth’s eyes flung open wide. “How could it? She’s hideous!”
“Even as an old woman, her spirit is more beautiful than yours will ever be,” he said.
Elisabeth lunged for him. Sharp nails leading the way, she tried to scratch his face. He diverted her and knocked her off-balance. Meanwhile, Vacimo thundered over. Before he could restrain Lucian, Taur came up behind him and clamped the handkerchief to his nose. After one long whiff of the chloroform, Vacimo’s knees buckled.
“I owe you one, Taur!” Lucian shouted as Elisabeth lunged for him again. He ducked. She toppled over, but she managed to yank the knife from Vacimo’s boot. Waving it in front of her tauntingly, she came at Lucian, wild-eyed. He knocked the weapon from her hands and Taur pinned her arms behind her back. The valet held the soaked handkerchief to her mouth and Elisabeth slumped against him, unconscious.
Lucian rushed to Giselle. “Are you all right?”
She tilted her head back and put a quivering hand to his chest.
“Me? I’m fine,” he said.
She gave him a look as if to say, “I’m glad you’re alive.” Then she mouthed, “You postponed your engagement . . . for me?”
He smiled.
Her stare grew urgent as she touched his ring.
“Yes!” he cried. “I got it. Are you ready?”
She nodded.
He grasped her cold hands. She knew that her system was approaching a standstill—and that her life was minutes from slipping away.
Lucian seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. With a stare that touched her soul he said, “I’ll see you on the other side, Giselle.”
She closed her eyes. Lucian’s clear voice filled the dungeon. “During a bright wedding day that dimmed, your looks were changed on a whim. Now my words shall reverse your spell, so that again you will be well.”
Giselle’s cloak slipped from her body to reveal a wedding gown of lace. Her stature resumed its previous height and her skin became smooth and radiant. Replacing her wiry gray hair was a bounty of golden-brown locks that curled around her shoulders. Best of all, the evil that clenched her throat vanished without a trace.
Lucian’s eyes widened with shock and excitement. “My God, Giselle. You’re back!”
The first thing Giselle did was shout with joy. Grateful that her voice had returned, she touched her face and skimmed her hands over the contours of her body to confirm the change. Leaning her forehead into the fabric of Lucian’s jacket, she pressed against him with relief. “Thank you,” she whispered in a low voice that was sweet and young again.
“You look like an angel!” He slipped his hands around her waist. “I love you. I never stopped loving you.” After cupping her face in his hands, he captured her lips in the most passionate kiss Giselle had ever known. Elation shot through her.
Taur cleared his throat, interrupting the romantic moment. “Sir. What are we to do with this jester—and Miss Elisabeth?”
Lucian spun around. “I’d love to kill them both, but I’m not a murderer.”
“But you are a warlock,” Giselle said.
Lucian gave her a dubious look. “My powers are limited to reversing spells.”
“I threw Ileana’s book of spells in the Thames,” she explained, “but I saw her cast a spell I remember word for word.”
“Tell me.” Lucian’s anxious tone matched hers.
She stepped back and took in a breath. “No eye of lizard. No tail of rat. Nothing but these words will turn you into a nocturnal bat.”
Lucian’s smile disappeared. “Wait a moment. Who am I fooling? As I said, my powers don’t work that way.”
“Maybe this will help.” Hoping the object she needed was still there, Giselle knelt down and fished something from the pocket of her cloak.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“It’s a sliver of Ileana’s magic mirror.” She handed it to him. “And it’s extremely powerful. Try speaking to it when you cast your spell.”
The piece of glass caught the torchlight and it glittered against Lucian’s face. Squaring his shoulders, he looked directly into it and repeated the words Giselle had spoken.
“Yes, master,” the mirror spoke back.
In an instant, Elisabeth and Vacimo morphed into bats. Flapping their wings wildly, they soared to the rafters of the dungeon. And as Taur opened the door, they escaped into the shadows of the stairwell.
Elisabeth’s engagement ring clattered to the ground where she had stood. Beaming with surprise, Lucian crouched to pick it up. “That went better than expected. This is yours, now.” He brought the ring to Giselle.
Giselle shook her head. As she retrieved her cloak from the floor, she withdrew her original engagement ring. Though it was modest and a bit dulled, she held it up for him to see. “This is the jewel I shall always wear. It reminds me of how we were—before all this happened.”
Lucian drew her into another heart-pounding kiss and whispered, “You mean, how we shall be again.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two months later
Giselle and Lucian’s wedding was a simple affair that took place in the small church they’d planned to marry in three years earlier.
Following a touching ceremony, Taur, who was their only witness, grinned as he gave Lucian an enthusiastic handshake. “Congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you for standing up for me,” Lucian said with genuine affection.
Turning to Giselle, Taur planted a kiss on the back of her gloved hand.
“Thank you for saving our lives.” She offered him a smile.
“It’s the least I could do,” Taur replied. “Besides, I couldn’t wait to get out of Dantel House. I hate dungeons almost as much as I hate graveyards.”
Lucian laughed and clasped his friend’s arm. “Sorry, old fellow.”
Giselle looked around nervously.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Lucian asked.
“We managed to get rid of Elisabeth, but I’m worried Ileana might be n
earby.”
“If she comes within a hundred yards of you, I’ll turn her into a sloth.” He paused. “I still have that sliver of mirror tucked in my pocket.”
She leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.
“Time to go,” he said. “But first . . .” Reaching inside his jacket, he extracted a rolled piece of paper tied with a bow.
“What’s this?” Taur asked as Lucian passed it to him.
“It’s the deed to Reppart Mansion.”
“Deed?”
Lucian smiled. “I want you to have it.”
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“The house is too big. I fear my ego will keep growing inside it.”
“But—”
“Besides,” Lucian said, “I’ll have no time for the upkeep. I’m going to be busy reversing spells and setting lives straight.”
“Where will you and Mrs. Ivanu live?” Taur asked.
“I bought a small townhouse in the East Quarter.” Lucian brought Giselle’s hand to his mouth and gave it a peck. “We shall be perfectly happy there.”
“Sir, I couldn’t possibly—”
“Live in the mansion, Taur. Or sell it. I don’t care.”
The valet continued to protest.
“No time to talk. It’s my wedding night, you know.”
Giselle blushed.
“I cannot accept your gift,” Taur called after them as they made their way out of the church.
“Don’t worry,” Lucian called back. “I’m not crazy. I still have plenty of money on which to live comfortably.”
Giselle laughed. Wasn’t that just like Lucian?
A carriage covered in white roses transported them to their new townhouse and she gasped. She had expected something modest and unassuming, but the place was gorgeous. Boasting rich brick work, etched windows, and sparkling lanterns that adorned its portico, it seemed the perfect home for them.
“Do you like it?” Lucian asked as he led her to the front door.
“Yes,” she replied zealously.
“I chose it because it’s close to the opera house.”
“Then I love it.”
“Good.” Without wasting another minute, he whisked her off her feet. And when he pushed the front door open with his foot, she saw that the place had been furnished extravagantly.
Lucian bent to kiss her as he carried her across the threshold. “I plan to ravish you, Mrs. Ivanu. I hope you’re prepared.”
“Fully prepared.” She laughed. Nuzzling his neck, she sighed as he closed the door and practically ran up the stairs with her in his arms.
“I can’t believe it’s our wedding night,” she said.
“I can,” he whispered against her cheek. “And I plan to savor every moment of it.”
Lucian carried Giselle into the sitting area of their bedchamber and her face flamed. As he set her on an upholstered chaise as daintily as one sets a tea cup in its saucer, he perused her in all her bridal glory. “What shall I remove first?” he purred. “Your veil? Your lovely dress? Or shall I tear all your clothes off at once?”
“I fancy seeing you undress first,” she said quietly.
“My wife’s wish is my command.” He gave her a dazzling grin.
Sunset’s haze streamed through a large window behind the chaise and settled a rubicund glow on Lucian’s face. As he unraveled his cravat, peeled off his jacket, and removed his shirt, he looked like Apollo reborn. Face bronzed and muscles rippling, he looked at her mischievously and Giselle knew she was in trouble.
Thank God my heart is strong again.
Returning his sultry look, she trailed her hands up his bare chest. “I’ve missed you so,” she murmured.
A rueful smile kicked at a corner of his mouth. “I cannot tell you how many days I spent longing for one more kiss from you.”
She leaned back against the chaise’s frame while he hovered over her like a massive gladiator. Lowering his face to hers, he covered her lips with his own and traced their outline with his tongue. His breath feathered along her face, hot and sweet, and she pulled him closer. Under Lucian’s slow, careful kisses, she became aware of his intense body heat. It made her happy all over again and she remembered that she’d thought of little else during their separation except his embrace.
While she clutched his broad shoulders, Lucian swept his tongue in past her lips. She greeted it with her own urgent tangle. As his blond lashes fluttered against her eyelids her pulse jolted—and when a cry squeaked past her lips, Lucian reacted to it by cupping his palm around her breast.
Alone in the home they would share together, there was no need for either of them to be quiet or restrained, so, breathless, he began pulling at the buttons of her gown. “I want to see all of you, my sweet.”
After he yanked down her bodice, his hand disappeared inside her thin chemise. When he popped a breast free, he lifted its weight to his mouth. Pressing his lips over her peaked bud, he lapped it with a scalding kiss. Meanwhile, Giselle tugged off her wedding gown and helped Lucian remove his trousers. While they lay together—naked, warm, exploring one another—she realized it’d been too long since someone had fawned over her. It made her heart sing.
“You’re so beautiful,” Lucian murmured as his hands roamed her body.
Senses ablaze, Giselle skimmed her touch along the muscles of his chest and torso in return.
“I was an inexperienced boy when we first made love,” he whispered in the voice she’d sorely missed.
“I thought it was wonderful,” she replied softly.
Sprawled on the cold floor of the sorcery shop, they had groped their way to bliss. It had been awkward—and a bit of a blur, but in that moment, Giselle had decided that Lucian was the only man she’d ever love. Now his soul was intertwined with hers again and she was in heaven.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Lucian said, “Let me bring you to heaven the right way.”
Delight surged through Giselle.
“Sit back and let me work my magic. I’m a warlock, remember?” His tone was a mixture of charm and gruffness—and she loved it.
Giselle slouched against the back of the garnet chaise. Raising her hands over her head, she emitted a moan while Lucian threaded his hands around her thighs and urged them apart. As he slid to his knees at the end of the sofa, he combed her curls with his fingers while his tongue swept circles around her sensitive spot. Yet he never touched it.
This was something Giselle didn’t know people did. It felt decadent and naughty, but it also felt too good to stop.
As Lucian danced his tongue over her pink petals, he prompted her pleasure and sent her to the brink of ecstasy. He nipped and sucked at her gingerly—and she decided that she couldn’t stand it any longer. Raking her fingers through Lucian’s short blond hair, she pulled his head lower. Closer. Tighter to her magical spot. He groaned as she wiggled against the pressure of his mouth and then nodded as her core began to pulsate. Giselle clutched the back of the chaise, amazed that something could be so gratifying.
Lucian raised his head and gave her a wayward look. Crawling back up the chaise, he caressed her cheek. “My kiss will tell you how sweet you taste.”
Tilting his chin down, he plundered her mouth. Giselle rose up to meet the ferocious kiss.
“I want to pleasure you, too,” she rasped in return.
Lucian’s gray eyes lit up with delight. He lifted Giselle off the lounge chair and once they’d switched positions, he brought one knee up and leaned back against the cushions.
“Tell me what to do,” Giselle said quickly.
“Kiss me while you move your hand up and down,” he instructed.
She did as he said, tentatively at first, then boldly. She wasn’t sure if she was stimulating him properly—until her stare flicked to Lucian’s face. It was awash with desire. As he moaned and lifted an arm above his head, the action gave his torso a perfect V shape and sent his pectoral muscles into an alluring wave.
She continue
d to fondle and caress him until he was as hard as stone.
“Christ, Giselle. I can’t wait any longer!” he cried. In one swoop, he lifted her to him and then flipped his body over hers. Grunting, Lucian tugged her hips toward him. At first, the fit was tight as he guided himself into her. But when Lucian gave a thrust, he penetrated her tightness and her hunger for him flew to a new high.
He kissed her deeply. She felt him slide his hands beneath her bottom. Now that he was fully inside her, Lucian increased the tempo of his thrusts. He built up an intensifying rhythm—and when he seemed close to satiation, Giselle wrapped her arms around his corded neck desperately.
She opened her eyes and found that Lucian had done the same. His stare meant everything to her in that moment. It conveyed his love for her as much as the physical action of lovemaking spoke its own words.
As she scanned Lucian’s perfect features, he raised himself up on locked elbows. He arched his back, and his thrusts became slower but more intense, until Giselle’s petals began to vibrate. He smiled, reaching satisfaction at the same instant she did, and he sprayed his seed deep inside her.
Afterward, he fell forward and clasped her tightly to his chest. She heard their ragged breath mingle as dusk’s light hung in the air. Finally, Lucian scooted his body downward until his cheek rested on the rise of her breast.
“Happy, darling?” he asked.
“Ecstatic,” Giselle murmured back.
“There is nowhere I’d rather be.”
She sighed in agreement.
“To think that this almost didn’t happen . . .” he said.
“You mean, because you almost married Elisabeth?”
Lucian looked up at her. “I was pig-headed—a complete imbecile when you showed up at my engagement party. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Of course I can.”
“I’ll never be self-serving again.”
Giselle brought his hand higher on her hip so that she could trace the top of his uncle’s ring. “I know getting this ring from Gregori’s tomb was a lot to ask.”
“It’s not that.” Lucian frowned. “My uncle wanted me to use my warlock powers for good. It was me. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to change you back.”
