Potent Charms (39 page)

She nearly leapt from the bed when she felt the hot
whisper of his breath at the very core of her body; then she
ceased to think at all. Sensation controlled her every sigh,
every whimper, every tremble as her body vibrated like the
strings of a harp. Surely if the house were on fire, she'd
never notice.

When neither seemed able to withstand another touch,
another caress, he rolled to his back and levered Phoebe
above him. She felt his manhood nudge the entrance to her.
A bit embarrassed, yet more aroused, she allowed Stephen
to guide her into mobility, thrilled with the novelty of making love like this.

His muscles glistened, evidence of his restraint. With
every rise and fall of her hips, she climbed higher and
higher, burned hotter and hotter until she shattered into a
hundred fiery pieces. Stephen continued to rock her body
against his until he stiffened and joined her in the magical
realm of ecstasy.

In the afterglow of their lovemaking, they lay face-to face, their legs entwined, their breath mingling as one.
Trapped in a world of sensation, neither spoke a word.

Stephen traced featherlike circles across Phoebe's brow.
Finally he said, "Thank God, I arrived in time."

Phoebe's fingers roamed through the dusting of hair on
Stephen's chest. "I have a confession." She cast her eyes
downward. "I was weeping all over Lord Tewksbury
because I had decided to return to London, to you. I was
afraid you wouldn't want me anymore."

He crushed her in his arms and kissed the top of her
head. "Not want you? I couldn't live without you." Shifting
his body, he rolled to the nearby table and reached for a
small blue velvet box. He removed a gold ring, which he
gently placed on her finger. Etched in the delicate band
were two entwined hearts.

The ring on her finger was a close match to the one she
had described when they shared stories at Chantonbury
Ring. The day she'd acknowledged the love she felt. A
wave of tenderness washed over her. Would she ever
understand this man? She would spend a lifetime trying.
"You remembered?" she said in awe.

"Silly girl. How could I forget? The day I first made love
to you has been one of my fondest memories. You stole my
heart that afternoon. Fool that I was, I refused to see the
truth. Like that skeleton in your treasure cave, I vow to
never love another woman."

"When did you-"

"I ordered the ring two days ago when I decided I had to
have you or - go mad. I simply needed time to reconcile my
feelings with my decision. I'm truly sorry for the pain I
caused you. If you'll allow it, I'll spend my life making
you happy. Will you be my wife, Phoebe Rafferty? Will
you do me the grave honor of sharing my life?"

One question remained unanswered. "What about the
curse?"

"The thought of losing you terrifies me, but I can't exist
without you. You're the one who always said love conquers
all things. I'm willing to put my hands, my heart, and my
future, into love's tender care. I would rather have a day, a
week, or a month with you than a lifetime without. Marry
me."

She'd dreamed of this moment for so long and had given
up all hope of ever hearing those words from his lips. They
were joyous, musical, to her ears. Happiness crescended in
her like the song of a hundred violins. With all the love in
her heart, she smiled. "I would be honored."

"I will go to my grave with your name on my lips, our
love etched in my soul." He covered her with his body, his
lips hovering an inch above hers. "And if you have any
doubts, be assured I shall erase them one by one, each and
every day of our lives."

Four years later

Phoebe passed through the picture gallery of Marsden
Manor, searching for her wayward family members. The
sun shone brightly, so she had a fair notion as to where they
might be.

Pushing through the French doors and onto the balcony,
she still marveled at the beauty of this place. She thanked
the stars, the heavens, for granting her this life.

Hannah, her face so very much like Stephen's, sat on
Hampson's lap. Wibolt occupied the chair across the table
with Michael, now three months old, nestled in the crook
of his arm, sound-asleep. Stephen leaned against the stone
wall.

Hannah's face was bright with excitement. Phoebe
imagined Hampson was filling her daughter's ear with
some nonsensical story or feat of her infamous relative. Phoebe grinned. To this day, she herself loved hearing
those tales that Hampson told. She stepped into the sunlight and said as sternly as possible. "Have you forgotten?
It seems someone is having a birthday."

Her daughter crawled from Hampson's lap, ran to her
mother and jumped up and down. "Me. I'm three."

Stephen crossed to Phoebe's side as well and pulled her
into his arms. He kissed her as he often did with no concern as to where they were. And, she didn't mind one bit.
He said, "Hampson was telling us a delightful tale of a
poor fisherman who found treasure in a sea gull's egg."

"Is it true?" Hannah asked.

Sharing a smile with her husband, Phoebe answered,
"Treasure of any kind can be found in the most unexpected
places. You simply need to search for it and never give up
hope. Now, off to wash. Our guests will arrive shortly."

Stephen rubbed his chin. "I have no concern about Winston and Elizabeth, but Charity and Ellwood manage to
lose their way every time."

Laughing, she said, "I think Charity rather likes being
lost with her husband."

His brow raised a notch. "Really? Perhaps they have
something after all." He guided her back toward the house.
"Hampson and Wibolt, watch the children if you will. I
have an inclination to lose my wife and myself below the
stairs. Perhaps we'll search for our own buried treasure."

She thought of the small, but well-furnished hideaway
tucked beneath the music room. "Remember our guests."

He gave her a look, and a shiver traveled down her
spine. She could deny him nothing. She doubted she ever
would. She'd asked for his name, expected his devotion,
and received much more. He'd bestowed upon her the
greatest treasure of all: his love.