Mary stared at him, uncertain of who he was. “It is difficult for me to accept that Decimus and Michael are one and the same. Decimus hunted me while Michael saved me and loved me. How do I bring the two of you together?”
Decimus gently cupped her face with his hand. “With love?”
Tears slowly slipped down her cheek.
He moved his hand to rest on her flat belly. “Love for us both?”
“Oh, Michael,” she cried and rested her forehead on his. Mary closed her eyes and trailed his face with soft kisses until she found his lips and then she kissed the man she loved, the man who owned her heart and soul.
He took her face in his hands and returned her kisses. “I love you, Mary. God, I love you so very much that it hurts.”
She kept her eyes closed. “You are not alone anymore, never fear losing my love, it is forever. It will take me time to grow accustomed to your face—”
“Not too long, please?” He sounded as though her words pained him. “I want to love you in the light so that we may look upon each other.”
“It will take time. Michael is whom I trust and love. I must learn to trust and love Decimus. I see you as the same, but it is difficult to comprehend. . . . With time—”
“We do not have much time.”
She opened her eyes and tried to keep firm in her mind that it was Michael she spoke with, no matter that it was Decimus she looked upon.
“We have the rest of our lives together.”
“Nay, Mary,” he said sadly.
Her heart quickened and her stomach fluttered. “What do you mean?”
“You carry our child and I will not see either of you in danger.” He squeezed both her hands in his. “I will make plans for your escape, then see you settled in a safe place—away from me.”
Chapter 31
“Send me and your child away?” Mary asked, stunned. “You cannot mean it.”
“I will see you and my child safe,” Decimus insisted.
“Without a husband and father?”
He stood and looked down on his tearful wife with a pained heart. “You think I want this? You think that I do not want to be there with you when you give birth to my child? That I do not want to watch him grow? That I do not want a life with you and him?”
Mary stood and took a step toward him then stopped, staring at him.
Her hesitancy hurt but he understood it. She felt safe with Michael, not with Decimus. He stretched his hand out to her, giving her a choice.
She waited but a moment, staring at him, and then allowed her eyes to drift shut as she reached out and took hold of his hand.
He pulled her close, wrapping her in a tight embrace. She felt so very good, the warmth of her, the strength of her; he wanted to hold her to him forever, to never part, always love . . .
But that was not meant to be.
She looked at him with sorrowful eyes. “We can do this together, you, me, and the babe.”
He gave her a gentle kiss. “How I wish that were possible. But look at where you now temporarily reside—in the Fortress of Hell. It is no place for you and it is definitely no place for our child. And I will not have you spend your life in service to me.”
She had to smile. “You seemed to enjoy convincing me otherwise.”
“I had the perfect excuse,” he said with what appeared a hint of a smile.
Mary had never seen Decimus smile; she did not think him capable. The thought that she had touched his heart, and it had begun to heal, touched her own heart.
“You needed to think badly of me,” he continued. “I treated you poorly so that you would hate me.”
“You could have trusted me and confessed the truth.”
“It was not you who I did not trust—it was me.”
She looked at him confused.
“It would not have been easy to keep up the charade if we both were aware. My heart would have betrayed me. And as for you? From the very first time we met, you looked at Decimus with disgust. If you had known I was the Dark One, would you have looked at me the same?”
She was about to debate the issue with him but thought better of it. “You are right. My eyes would have spoken the truth no matter how hard I attempted to hide my love for you.”
“Then you see why it is impossible for you to remain here as my wife. It will be more difficult for you to hide your feelings toward me, and knowing my true identity could place both of us, and our child, in jeopardy.”
She stepped away from him, angry that they should be parted when they only found each other. “You have surrendered much of your life seeking revenge. Have you not avenged your family’s deaths enough? Can you not walk away now knowing you have accomplished what you intended and have a life of your own?”
“I have freed many who otherwise would have died brutal deaths, but more continue to be persecuted. How do I walk away from the innocent when they need someone to help them?”
“Let someone else help them,” she said angrily. “I need you and”—she placed her hand to her stomach—“your child needs you.”
He walked over to her and rested his hand over hers. “I wish . . . I wish things were different.”
“Then make them different,” she begged. “I do not want to spend my life without you.”
“We will discuss this matter no more,” he said adamantly.
Her eyes rounded when she caught the familiar tone of Decimus, but she feared him no more.
“We will discuss it until you are in agreement with me,” she protested.
“Will we?” he asked, his voice a bit too gentle and his hands beginning to roam up her arms.
“You will not sway me in this.”
“I have no doubt of that. You can be stubborn,” he said and ran his fingertips ever so lightly beneath the sleeves of her nightshift, sending gooseflesh rushing over her. His fingers found their way to her neck and he stroked her soft skin, kissed her warm lips, and silenced her stubbornness.
“I want to make love to you. I want you to look into my eyes and see me, know it is me, know that I love you.”
She stumbled on her words not certain who she was to love. “Mic—De—who are you?”
“You need to know me as Decimus, and it is time for us to consummate our wedding vows.”
Her smile was gentle. “I had feared this time, but no more.”
“You will only know love this night and for all the nights to follow until we say our last goodbye.”
“I will have memories to keep me warm,” she said sadly.
“And for me to fill my endless days and nights without you.”
“Then let us begin making memories,” she said, taking his hand and walking to the bed.
He rushed out of his clothes, she slipped out of hers and climbed into bed, pulling back the blanket, inviting him to hurry and join her . . . and he did.
He lay beside her, bracing his elbow on the bed and resting his head on his hand so that he could see all of her naked beauty. He wanted to watch her as he slowly touched every inch of her, starting with her face.
His strokes were feather light, tantalizing her soft flesh. She sighed and moaned and squirmed, and he grew hard watching her respond so passionately to his touch.
“You are so very beautiful,” he whispered and kissed her lips.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him to her until he slipped completely over her. He had thought to take his time with her, but she had a different idea and he responded to her need.
Their loving turned fast and furious as if they could not get enough of each other, as if both were starved with a hunger that could not be quenched. She climaxed quickly and wanted more and he obliged. When he thought her spent, she pushed him off her to climb on top of him.
“You are not tired—”
“Shhh, let me love you,” she whispered before biting his lips playfully, then settling herself comfortably over the full length of him, tossing her long hair back over her shoulder, and ri
ding him with an energy born of love.
He grasped her waist and helped her to keep a steady rhythm, but help was unnecessary. He fit her well and she relished the feel of him, hard and powerful and throbbing deep inside her.
She leaned down over him, her long blond hair forming a tent around his face and, nibbling on his lips, she said, “I cannot get enough of you.”
“Take what you want of me,” he urged and she did until he felt her body slow its rhythm and he knew she grew tired.
He eased her off him and joined with her once more, taking full control and finishing their lovemaking with an explosive climax. Together they soared past time and space, united as one in the heavens only to drift gently back to earth.
He moaned his satisfaction, she sighed hers, and they rested together in each other’s arms content, if only for this moment.
When a chill began to creep over their damp, naked bodies he reached down and pulled the soft wool blanket over them, tucking it around her. They snuggled together, content and at peace.
“We will be left alone this night?” she asked and hoped.
“I saw to what was necessary. The rest can wait until morning.”
“What of Roarke?”
“You tell me.”
She rested her hand on his chest as though her gentle touch would keep him calm, when she said, “I had to help him. He had already been tortured and would suffer more. And why was he so close to the fortress?”
“Roarke has been my partner since the conception of the Dark One. I could not have accomplished so many successful flights to freedom without him. This time was no different.”
“The night we arrived here you were busy making plans to free the prisoners. It was the reason for our hasty departure from Magnus’s keep?”
He nodded. “It was imperative. There were two young lads and one was badly hurt when captured. I did not think he would survive the night.”
“Did he?” she asked, reciting a silent prayer for the lad.
“He did but could not journey as fast as the others. Roarke remained with him until help could be sent. By then my men were close on their trail, and to keep them from finding the lad and his rescuers, Roarke led them away and was caught. I feared I would not arrive in time to stop his torture.”
“I arrived in time,” she said proudly.
“You could have been caught.” His admonishment could not hide the pride in his voice.
“But I was not and Roarke is free, though in need of care.”
Decimus sat up. “Is he hurt badly?”
“He was only able to walk slowly, so I secured him a horse. He is on his way to Magnus’s keep.”
He sat up, looked to where his clothes lay discarded on the floor, his body tense with flight—then looked to her.
“Go, he needs your help,” she said, sensing his concern for his friend.
“I will see him safe and then return,” he said jumping out of bed and dressing with haste.
“And what am I to say if asked of your whereabouts?”
“I will return before anyone knows me gone, and no one would expect Decimus to keep his wife apprised of his whereabouts.” He leaned over and kissed her soundly.
“I cannot escape,” she said, a thought coming to her that might be useful.
“You must,” he said with sorrow and shook his head. “We have no time to discuss this now, we will talk of it when I return.”
She grabbed hold of his arm. “It cannot be an escape, Mich—Decimus.” It was imperative she remembered to call him Decimus and no other name for fear of making a mistake in front of someone. “The Church would forever hunt me. I must die and be laid to rest.”
He plopped down beside her on the bed. Her words were an added burden to his already heavy mind and heart. “You are right.”
“Then it is good that I am with child. I will grow large and a few months before I am to give birth, I can die due to problems with my pregnancy. No one would question my demise.”
“That is a good plan and one I had not considered. We will talk on it when I return.”
“I will miss you.” Her gentle words were a plea from a loving heart.
He reached out to raise her head to his. He captured her mouth with a kiss that stole her breath. “That will keep me strong in your memory until my return.” He eased her head back on the pillow and tucked the covers around her. “Sleep well, wife, know you are safe and know that I love you.”
He left and Mary lay in the quiet of the night, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the room. The startling discovery that Decimus and Michael were one remained fresh in her mind. If she had been more aware of the subtle hints that connected the two men, she might have realized Decimus’s charade.
How could one man always manage to outsmart another? Never had the Dark One failed in his rescue attempts. And he had found ways into supposedly impregnable fortresses and keeps. Black magic had been whispered along with the Dark One’s name, for no common man could call the darkness friend.
But it was with patience, intelligence, and illusion that Michael achieved his goal. While the Dark One was hunted, he stood before their very eyes and no one knew.
She empathized with him over the loss of his family, recalling her own pain in losing her parents. There comes a time, however, when revenge can do no more and it must be laid to rest and life must go on.
The idea of spending her life without Michael was not a thought she cared to consider. She would not allow him to abandon her and their child out of duty. Time at least now was on her side. She had a few months reprieve to fashion a plan of escape, not only for her but for her husband as well. She would need help for there was much to consider and prepare for, and who better to assist her than Reena and Brigid. That would mean confiding in them the truth of Decimus’s identity. Could she trust them?
Without a doubt, though the knowledge could prove dangerous to them. It would have to be their choice.
She yawned and stretched, feeling more content than she had in weeks. It had been two months since her harrowing escape had begun. Summer fast approached and the fields would soon be lush with crops, the meadows a plethora of wildflowers, and she would be growing heavy with child.
Fresh, new beginnings all around and that meant for Decimus as well.
They would start anew, she would make certain of it.
It was her turn to play a charade and free him as he once freed her, and she would do it with confidence and determination.
He would expect her to shed tears and cry thinking of their eventual parting, and she would need to play the role well. It would not take much since just the thought of saying goodbye to Michael forever filled her with dread. She would not lose him. She would not let Decimus rob her of Michael. She would have her husband even if she had to bury Decimus to do it.
After all, the seer had spoken; she would be the demise of Decimus.
Now she understood, and she would see that the prophecy rang true.
Chapter 32
In public Mary played the obedient wife to Decimus extremely well, and the heartbroken wife to Michael, often appearing tearful over their eventual parting. Her true self was the scheming, independent woman who intended to have things her way, and she was proud of her.
Mary had asked for a note to be sent to Reena and had written it in a Celtic script that few could read or write, though she knew Reena would understand the words. Her message, she hoped, would bring a visit from Reena and Brigid and, of course, their husbands since the men would not allow their wives to travel alone.
The visit would give her time to confide the Dark One’s identity in the two women and formulate escape plans. She was taking a chance, a dangerous one, but then her husband was worth the danger.
She sat on a narrow wooden bench in a small flower garden behind the fortress. Loving hands tended this garden, forcing a tiny bit of beauty to grow in hell. Summer was but a week away and many flowers were in full bloom while others abounded
with ripe buds aching to burst open.
“My lady,” a servant girl gasped, coming to an abrupt halt after rounding the corner of the fortress.
Mary smiled hoping to calm her unease. The girl appeared worn out, her brown hair hanging limply around her pretty oval face. Her hands, which she hugged in front of her were red and raw, perhaps from too much scrubbing in hot water. She was reed-thin and had the loveliest pale blue eyes.
“Is this your garden?” Mary asked.
The girl looked on the verge of tears and Mary hurried to assuage her concern.
“It is beautiful. You tend it with great care.”
“I—I—” she stumbled nervously over her words. “No one kn-knows of it.”
“A secret garden, how wonderful. May I share in it with you?”
The girl looked stunned, and at a loss for words, she nodded.
“Your name?” Mary asked.
“Jenna, my lady.”
Mary was not accustomed to being referred to as “my lady.” She did not feel the title appropriate or necessary. She would have much preferred for Jenna to know her as Mary.
“Jenna, a lovely name. Will you not sit with me and tell me about your garden?” With so much chaos of late it would be nice to talk of so simple a thing as a garden.
Soon Mary found herself on her knees weeding the flower patch with Jenna, who was surprised that a lady knew so much about plants.
“What are you doing?”
The harsh voice startled them both and when Mary looked upon Decimus, for an instant, she forgot he was Michael and cringed at the sight of him.
He was dressed completely in black except for a touch of gold trim. The furious glare in his dark eyes and his hands planted firmly on his hips almost made her tremble in fear. That is until she looked over at Jenna. The poor lass looked absolutely terrified.
Mary immediately sought to defend the cowering girl. “My lord, Jenna was nice enough to let me help her with this beautiful garden she planted for your pleasure.”
Jenna’s trembling did not cease, though her hand inched closer to Mary’s and rested against hers as if in appreciation and protection.
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