The Destiny Code: The Soldier and the Mystic

by Hollingsworth, Suzette

  “Do you mean, Valerius, that having a true prediction of the future was the tool which enabled you to change the future? It sounds nonsensical. A paradox.”

  “And it makes all the sense in the world. Common sense. Change your behavior, change the outcome.”

  “And how did the change occur? Was it sudden?”

  “The initial shock to my system was dramatic when I found the painting. I realized in an instant you could be right about me. Something snapped inside me, and possibilities which had never before occurred to me tempted me…teased me…became me. After that initial jolt, everything was gradual, progressing naturally. I went about simply pursuing my interests. I submitted my book. It was accepted for publication. I performed an action which should have elicited a court-martial. Instead I was given a desirable promotion.” He cleared his throat. “I now have a post as a diplomat for the British government. I do not come to you without position.”

  “A diplomat?” If this was correct, then why not the status of their relationship, so dear a topic to her? “I knew it, I saw it…”

  “My outlook is considerably changed as well. I perceive everything so differently, my darling, dear Alita.” He took both her hands in his. “Is it too late for us, sweetheart? Can I regain myself in your eyes?”

  “I did not foresee this. I do not see it yet.” Her lack of connection to all that was happening made it impossible for her to enter into it. She did not trust it and it terrified her. It felt as if it were someone else’s life.

  Not hers.

  Nothing this good could be hers. She did not know if she could bear having her heart broken again.

  “Believe me, my love, that limitation and lack of vision comes entirely from you and not from me.” To prove his point, he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately, as if to bring her into his world. And it did.

  His lips were hot on hers, and his desire was raging. She felt the full impact of his absolute need of her.

  “Alita…Alita…” he implored desperately. “Marry me, my love.”

  Her body molded to his, she felt her soul intertwining with his, and her disbelief collided with her longing in a way which made her body shake.

  In spite of the hardships of his life, she knew he could be a good husband to her. But could I be a good wife to him? She could ever forgive herself if she disappointed this amazing man.

  “What of your diplomatic post, Valerius? What of your future? How do you see me in all this?” She desperately attempted to compose her thoughts. “Your profession is everything to you. Your intellect is the expression of your spirit. It defines you. You need a help-mate of a certain presentation.”

  “I don’t give a bloody damn about my profession.” He turned to her, his voice fierce and terrifying. “It means nothing to me without you. And I don’t require a ‘help-mate.’ I need only you, Alita. Only you.’

  “You are grateful, I understand.”

  “Damnation, woman! Though I owe you everything I am, missing you doesn’t have a blasted thing to do with your sight, your gifts, or what you can do for me or can’t do for me. I have no further need of an advocate or a healer. I am irrevocably on my path and I am fully capable of making my own decisions. I merely want to spend this life with you.”

  “And I you. There is nothing else I want more.”

  “I miss you desperately, Alita. I desire you with every fiber of my being. I am a transformed man, and I owe it all to you, but none of that matters to me now. All that matters is that I love you.”

  “Oh, Val. And I love you. So much. You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted. Only—”

  He covered her mouth with his own, effectively putting a stop to her protestations while he tightened his hold on her, his hands holding her face firmly to his.

  As she recalled the love in his eyes, which engulfed her like a bed of rose petals, Alita allowed herself to release her confusions for the moment and to float in his love. Suddenly her imperfect union to the wisdom of the universe seemed secondary to the fact that she was bathing in love.

  Or possibly that was the wisdom of the universe.

  “Where will we live?” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “What will we do?”

  “Alita, I am desperate to stop talking about life and to begin experiencing it—with you.” There was an invitation in his eyes, which were now as blue as the heavens despite the steel in them. He teased her lips with his soft, warm mouth as he whispered, “God save us, Alita. Come into this life with me.”

  The steamy look in his eyes assured her he intended to fulfill his prediction or die trying. He put his arms around her waist and kissed her violently, deliberately, desperately, as if he never wanted to let her go.

  “Oh, Val, it broke my heart to not see us together. And yet I could not marry another.” She placed her hand on his cheek, whispering, “I wanted a pretend life in a perfect setting. And then I met you. And suddenly it became much more appealing to actually live.”

  “Marry another? Who asked you?” Val demanded as he pulled away, his eyes suddenly fierce.

  “That’s not important now,” she murmured.

  “How many?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I don’t recall, precisely.”

  “Are you quite serious?” he demanded.

  “I am a wealthy heiress, only slightly crazy, it shouldn’t be surprising. It seems there are several willing to tolerate my oddities in exchange for my income. They might laugh at me behind my back—all is not forgotten—but they are yet willing to take me as the mother to their children.”

  “I must not lose you again, Alita.” He frowned, his face darkened before he returned to his purpose. His arms were around her waist as he whispered, “Marry me. Marry me, my love.”

  She smiled, looking deep into his eyes, so full of love for her.

  “You’re going to be traveling the world, darling,” he added. “And not always in the most comfortable of conditions. Your children will speak many languages, in all probability. We will have our home in the country and in London, which we will return to, but our lives will be uncertain at best, with every day unpredictable.” Val whispered in her ear, “Travel the world with me, dearest. Let us take a little magic everywhere we go. Let us share a small spark of hope for a better world, plant a seed in every port. Let us envision something better and set the wheels in motion. Marry me, my love.”

  “Oh, yes, Val,” she whispered. “Yes.”

  Alita knew that, though she had given up the picture-perfect life she had envisioned, somehow, the life she would take on would be far more glamorous and exciting than anything she could have imagined. What had seemed to be the most frightening was now the most natural and joyful existence possible.

  She simply had to take the first few steps.

  Her Creator had been knocking at her door all along, wanting to give her that which would make her happiest. But she was going to have to break the eggs and stir the batter to make the cake. There would be no arrangements for a delivery. Every change had to occur through her life.

  She must take the steps herself. As she had. She had travelled to Egypt, she had done what she believed to be right, she had experienced the pain and still made the ethical choices, and when the time was right, fulfillment came.

  Val took her into his strong arms and kissed her with a passion which told her marrying her was the thing he wanted more than all else in the world.

  But when would she see them together in her mind’s eye?

  And then she heard the birdsong—the robin, the turtledove, and the nightingale.

  Turr-turr. The sweetest of all was the Meadow Pipit, whose song always corresponded with movement. He sang as he flew from a perch, flying upward as his song ascended into a crescendo, then gliding downward on half-spread wings, followed by a trill to finish.

  She smelled the orange blossoms, though she had none in her garden. She smelled sweet frostings, strawberries and almonds, and rice. She smelled the clean soapy scents
of lavender and roses, of lotions and powders, and the smell of a baby’s clean skin.

  Other sounds blended with the birdsong. The rustling of silks. Harps and trumpets. Church bells ringing. Crystal clinking. And the cheers and words of love from well-wishers.

  The vision came, and she saw honor guards forming an archway with swords and sabers outside a cathedral church. Rice landed everywhere, and she and Val moved through the archway into their new life, joyous in each other’s love.

  Alita came back to the present, so much better than the sweetest vision, as Val’s lips brushed hers.

  I can trust myself after all. She had merely needed a little fine tuning. She had trusted in something bigger than herself and, in the end, had found herself.

  Suddenly it was no longer a vision. The scene had come to life. She had never had the power to transform vision to reality.

  But Someone did.

  55

  Full Circle

  “And how long will you be in London before you assume your diplomatic post, Lord Ravensdale?” the brunette purred, her eyes saying something entirely more suggestive than her words.

  The raven-haired temptress was particularly beautiful in a daring pink satin gown, her eyes shining and eager, her advances pronounced. She seemed like a young lady who might overstep the line in search of adventure.

  Exactly my type.

  Val removed his eyes from her exceedingly low décolletage and took another sip of sherry as he scanned the ballroom. Slightly less interesting than the last time he was in London, if that were possible.

  But that was all about to change.

  “Long enough to find myself in a scrape or two, one hopes,” he replied, allowing his lips to form a slow, wicked smile, even as he continued scanning the room. He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that she had not entered, and still his eyes searched for her.

  It wasn’t like him to give into anxious feelings. He knew what he had seen and not seen, he knew everyone who had entered the elegantly appointed room and where they were, and he knew not to waste his energy unnecessarily.

  “I love a scrape,” she replied breathlessly, displaying her abundant cleavage to advantage.

  “Surprisingly, I find that I do as well, Miss Kristine. I haven’t for some time, but now I find that the idea…appeals.”

  The devil take it. He wanted to announce their engagement. How much longer would he have to wait? Alita had asked for a little time to prepare her mother, whom she knew would be distraught with the news of her eldest daughter traveling so far away so soon after her return from Egypt.

  A few more days…

  Stunning. His breath escaped as his intended glided through the entryway in an iced-lavender silk, as if illuminated by a backdrop of spun silver. If ever a woman seemed to command stardust, it was his fiancée.

  Soon to be his wife. In an instant she glanced around frantically while still in conversation, nodding perfunctorily, as if she had lost something. He smiled.

  It is her sense. She knows I am here.

  Her obvious agitation thrilled him.

  “What has you so preoccupied, Lord Ravensdale?”

  “Stardust. Beauty beyond compare. Moonbeams. That type of thing. It’s frequently on my mind these days.” Damn poetry filled his mind whenever he saw her. He was growing more insipid by the day.

  He moved so as to be out of the range of Alita’s direct vision. He had stationed himself so as to watch the entry door from a distance, and his current entourage had materialized without any effort on his part, providing him with a useful screen. Who would have thought that military training could have its useful applications even at a tiresome London ball?

  “Captain Lord Ravensdale, are you hiding from someone?” the brunette asked coyly, following his vision even as he observed a frown forming on her lips out of the corner of his eye.

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

  “What deliciously naughty thing have you done, my lord?” she asked, her voice now displaying something of an edge though her expression remained confident.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know, Miss Kristine?” His lips formed the slightest smile.

  And, indeed, it appeared that she did. “I haven’t done it yet,” he admitted. “But I shall. God willing.”

  “Ah, does God speak to your actions, Lord Ravensdale?” She giggled in a very inviting way, to which was added the nervous laughter of her court of young ladies, who rarely spoke and whose main purpose seemed to be to accentuate whatever remarks Miss Kristine made with the appropriate sighs, giggles, and expressions of hauteur.

  “Not directly, but I have an angel,” he murmured with feeling. “And God speaks to her. So I suppose the answer is yes.”

  The brunette cleared her throat, a gesture lacking her characteristic poise. Suddenly there was complete stillness in the group. “Do you intend to dance, Lord Ravensdale?” she pressed, angling her body in an inviting pose.

  “Yes I do,” replied Val. “And I shall. Very soon.” He forced himself to maintain a cool demeanor, but he felt anything but cool inside. Even while he continued to entertain the young ladies around him, he kept his eyes glued to his true object.

  He couldn’t have looked anywhere else if he had had the slightest inclination to do so.

  And then she glanced in his direction. She couldn’t see him, but she knew. Her hand moved to her mouth, and she sought to suppress an exclamation. With resolve she glided towards him.

  He chuckled. The proper thing for a young, unmarried lady was to wait for the gentleman to approach her.

  That would never do for Miss Alita Stanton.

  She was all that was feminine wrapped in the heart of a lion. I love everything about her. He had rejected her, the idiot that he was, and had somehow won her back. He sighed at his inexplicable good fortune. Everything he could want from life, and so much more, was his.

  “My lord,” Alita murmured breezily, holding out her hand to him. “And are you well?” she asked hopefully. She seemed surprisingly shy, as if his entourage of young ladies disturbed her. Surely she couldn’t think he had the slightest interest in any of them…

  “I am now, Miss Alita,” he stated deliberately as he touched her gloved hands to his lips, holding it possibly longer than was permitted. He looked up at her through his eyelashes as he kissed her hand.

  God how he had missed her. He had not seen her in several days, and before that, eight interminable months. He longed desperately for their marriage.

  Val studied her, perplexed. The smile on her face was somewhat frozen, and she was oddly quiet. Alita had rarely been short on conversation in their interactions—a propensity he had at times regretted in the past, but now exalted in—and yet she simply stared at him awkwardly.

  “And your mother, Miss Alita, how does she carry on?” Val asked, striving to convey his true meaning with his voice.

  “Better than I had hoped, my lord,” Alita replied, her countenance instantly blissful. “She finds herself suddenly very busy, which has always agreed with her.”

  “Busy with the hospital? Political reform?”

  “No”—Alita shook her head, her eyes suddenly glowing—“with dressmakers, musicians, menu selections, and silly decorative touches.”

  “Silly is exceedingly good.” Val felt his heart sing. She had told her mother.

  “A party?” The seductress took the direct approach, which did not surprise him. “So you have reemerged into society. Let us hope you have more success with this attempt, Alita.” Whispers and giggling ensued.

  “I shall do all within my power to ensure she does not, since Miss Stanton is betrothed to me,” interjected Val harshly, making no attempt to hide the aggravation from his tone. He would not allow anyone to speak to the future Lady Ravensdale in that fashion.

  “To…you, Lord Ravensdale?” Kristine’s jaw dropped, acrimony crossing her expression.

  Odd. What could anyone find to dislike in Alita Stanton? He had a vague recollecti
on of difficulties in Alita’s first season—no doubt inspired by jealousy—but it was yet inconceivable to him that her sweet, unselfish nature should find disfavor with anyone.

  “Miss Kristine, I take it you are acquainted with my fiancée, Miss Alita Stanton?” He bestowed his most gracious smile upon the Faustian she-devil, though he knew his manner dared her not to cross him.

  “Does Lord Ravensdale know of your search for the black panther, Alita?” the little strumpet persisted. There was a murmur of voices and self-satisfied chuckles surrounding them.

  “She found him.” He kept his gaze steady on Alita, and he found no difficulty in fixing his most seductive gaze upon her as he took her hand and kissed it again.

  Alita’s smile filled the room, her joy palpable.

  In contrast, he could sense Kristine’s anger rising as her plan to diminish Alita had, instead, served to elevate her.

  “So you and Lord Ravensdale have already met, Alita,” Kristine barely sputtered. “Possibly while you were away? How interesting. I would love to hear the circumstances.”

  Val caught Alita’s eye and shook his head ever so slightly. He knew Alita’s genuine nature compelled her to answer every inquiry truthfully. He attempted to convey that she did not owe information to one who would deliberately hurt her if given the opportunity.

  Alita’s expression was pained, but her sudden restraint indicated a new direction in her thinking. “If you ever choose to be my friend again, Kristine, we shall speak of it.”

  “It is you who were never my friend, Alita,” Kristine retorted venomously.

  “I was and I am.” She added softly, “I am deeply sorry for Colin’s death. It was a tragedy, and I know this loss is what changed you.”

  “How dare you speak of Colin, Alita Stanton.” Fury grew in Kristine’s eyes, as well as tears. But the truth of the implication seemed to impact her, if only for an instant in time. “You never entered into my feelings and were preoccupied with more important fantasies when I lost him.” Soft murmurs of agreement accentuated Kristine’s remark.