Love Potion #9 (44 page)

“Your style is get in and get out, I know that,” Sebastian snapped. “And there's no need to worry about the woman in question.” He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “I just happen to have Isabel's name and address right here.”

“What?”

“Just drive,” Sebastian instructed. “I understand this Isabel thinks about men in the same way we think about women. It could be quite interesting.
She
could be quite interesting.” He smiled again. “I just might give you a run for your money.”

Kurt floored it and the truck leapt back into the stream of traffic. He was always ready for a challenge.

“She'd better be cute,” he said grimly.

“On the contrary,” Sebastian countered with poorly concealed amusement. “You'd better hope that she thinks
you're
cute.” He stretched his legs, looking long and lean and very masculine, then smiled that smug smile that made Kurt want to deck him.

That settled it. Kurt was going to beat this bastard at his own game, one way or the other.

Even if he had to fall in love with some Isabel to do it.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Sebastian was gone, Dritta led Mitch and Lilith before the council. They turned to face each other, right hand clasping right, left clasping left, the crossing of their arms making the same figure eight that Lilith had made with her cards.

The mark of infinity, the sign of a timeless love circling back over and over again. This was her destiny; this was her fate; this was the man she'd find time and again. Lilith smiled into Mitch's eyes as they pledged their love to each other before a multitude of witnesses.

“And now,” Dritta said, “you may kiss the bride.”

Mitch did exactly that.

When Lilith opened her eyes, they were standing alone in her living room. Although there was no sign of Sebastian, the sky was the same hue of early-morning gray.

It was as though they had never been gone at all.

Except that there was an envelope on the mantle that hadn't been there before. Lilith crossed the room, and tore open the envelope, smiling when she saw its contents.

It was the last card of the higher arcane.

“Mitch, they've given us The World!”

He grinned and strode in pursuit, taking the card from her hands and flicking it back on to her table. “No,” Mitch said, his eyes bright and his voice low. “They're telling us that we already have it.”

And this time, without an audience, he really kissed her.

Lilith was only too happy to kiss him back.

 

* * *

 

21

The World

 

New Year's Eve

 

It was going to be a beautiful wedding.

Andrea had clearly spared no expense on the black tie fête planned to mark her fourth taking of marital vows. Nigel, to his credit, insisted that this would be Andrea's last trip to the altar and Lilith loved how the older woman giggled at that.

In fact, they were quite the couple, obviously completely taken with each other and bent on making each other happy. Nigel was a perfect gentleman, dapper and diplomatic, always ready with a word to make everyone smile. He could dance like a dream and Andrea just glowed in his presence. This shipboard romance showed no signs of limping back to port.

Even Mitch conceded that he couldn't have picked a better man for Andrea himself.

To the astonishment of everyone - except Mitch and Lilith - Kurt and the intern Isabel from Mitch's paper had become a devoted couple. They were so smitten with each other that Andrea had invited them to the wedding, making more than one comment about Kurt finally finding his match. There were rumors of a ring being in the offing for Valentine's Day.

Jen would be the only flower girl for her Nana's wedding, a role that delighted her no end. Lilith had picked up the rose petals after three practice sessions, then declared enough was enough and stored the basket high. Jason had marched up and down the living room with the lacey pillow for the rings until Lilith pronounced his pacing was right, although he had yet to be trusted with the jewelry itself. Mitch had the rings in safekeeping.

Jen looked like a little angel in her pink taffeta dress. There were clusters of silk ribbon roses in myriad shades of pink stitched along the bodice, chosen to match the real flowers ordered for the wedding. A lace-edged petticoat held out the full skirt and Jen was so smitten with that frilly petticoat that she willingly showed it to anyone.

Mitch had rolled his eyes the first time Jen did this and called it a bad omen of the future.

Jason was less thrilled with his miniature tuxedo with its emerald jacquard vest. He made a great show of sticking out his tongue as though he were asphyxiating when Mitch knotted the tie. They both looked cute as could be, though, and ought to be able to stay that way at least until the end of the ceremony.

The wind was sending snowflakes against the windows and the children were downstairs, when Mitch's reflection loomed behind Lilith's own in their bedroom mirror. He was perfectly turned out in his tux, his wavy hair combed to some sort of order, a smile curving his firm lips.

Lilith's heart made the little flutter at the sight of Mitch that she sincerely hoped would never stop. “Need help with that zipper?” he asked, and Lilith nodded mutely. The black and white of his tux complemented the deep ruby red of her evening dress, the garnet rose on Mitch's lapel marking them as a couple.

Lilith liked that.

“You'll outshine the bride,” Mitch teased in a low voice, taking his time with the zipper, then running a leisurely fingertip across her bare shoulders. His golden eyes gleamed when Lilith caught her breath, the warmth of his fingertip meandered down her spine. “Have I mentioned that this is a very sexy dress, Mrs. Davison?”

“About forty times,” Lilith admitted with a smile. “Today.”

“Then, let's make it forty-one,” Mitch breathed. “I like your hair up - it leaves lots of neck free for nibbling.” He caught her shoulders in the strength of his hands and as Lilith watched in the mirror, bent to kiss her nape.

His breath and the gentleness of his touch made Lilith shiver, but she straightened deliberately. “If you're going to do that all night, I'll have to wear a jacket.”

“Mmm, then I'll have to behave,” Mitch murmured, showing no immediate intention of doing so. His hands slid around her waist, his kisses ambled closer to her earlobe. Lilith was trapped between his hips and the dresser and didn't really want to escape. “Is it all right with you if I fantasize about the matron of honor during the ceremonies?”

Lilith laughed. “Fair enough. I'll be thinking about taking off the best man's tux.”

Mitch's eyes glinted with mischief as he met her gaze in the mirror. “With your teeth?”

Lilith pivoted in his embrace and looped her arms around his neck. “It could be arranged,” she whispered, then stretched to kiss him.

Mitch was every bit as delicious as he had been that very first time. Lilith loved the taste of him and the smell of him; she loved going to sleep in his arms and waking up with their legs tangled together. She liked living together and laughing together, cooking together and raising the kids together. They had sold her house, Lilith more than ready for the challenge of rescuing another, and Mitch good naturedly lugged paint and stripped ancient wallpaper at her command.

Maybe one day they'd have more children, or maybe that wasn't destined to be. Lilith didn't care. She was happy and she knew from the light in his eyes that Mitch was happy, too.

It was more than enough. All that good stuff, Mitch had once called it - and this certainly was good.

Long moments later, Mitch lifted his head and stepped away. “Ready?”

“This is as good as it gets,” Lilith said with a smile. She touched up her lipstick and dropped it into her evening bag, then turned to find that Mitch had conjured a small blue gift box tied with a white satin ribbon.

“Maybe you need just one more thing,” he suggested softly.

Lilith looked from the box to him. “What's that?”

Mitch shrugged. “You'll have to open it to find out.”

Clearly he wasn't going to give her any hints. Curious, Lilith accepted the box and untied the ribbon. She opened the lid to find two matched gold rings - one big, one smaller - nestled in the deep blue velvet lining.

“They look like wedding rings, old ones.” Lilith looked questioningly to Mitch, who stepped closer.

With gentle fingers, he lifted the pair of rings from the box and his smile faded. “They were my parents' rings,” he admitted, his voice unusually husky. “Andrea gave them to me the other day.”

“She must have thought you'd want them as a memento,” Lilith suggested, not expecting Mitch to look up so quickly.

“I do,” he affirmed, then lifted the smaller one between his finger and thumb. “But I don't want to tuck this box away somewhere, as though they're just more things to store.” Mitch took a deep breath and Lilith knew whatever he was going to say was important to him. “And I thought that this might be the perfect night to show them to you.”

“Since we're going to a wedding?” Lilith asked with a smile.

“Exactly.” Mitch returned her smile, then frowned down at the ring he was rolling between his finger and thumb. “I'd like these to be our wedding rings, Lilith,” he said quietly. “I'm not superstitious, but I think it would be good luck.”

Mitch glanced up, his expression somber, a question lurking in his eyes. “Lilith, would you wear my mother's ring?”

Lilith saw the memory of his parents' love shining in those golden eyes, as well as that tiny reflection of herself waving back. “Are you sure? They're quite precious to have. I wouldn't want them to be damaged.”

Mitch nodded firmly. “They'd be pleased, both that we've found each other and that we're wearing their rings. And they're already broken in.”

Lilith could only smile. “You sound as though you don't think your parents know about us.”

Mitch's gaze flicked to hers, then his lips curved in a slow smile. “Maybe they do,” he conceded, clearly liking that possibility.

Lilith put her hand on his. “I'd be honored to wear your mother's ring, Mitch. Andrea told me that they had a wonderful marriage.”

“A love for all time,” Mitch said as he slipped the smaller ring onto her finger and Lilith wasn't sure whether that was an agreement or a pledge.

It suited her either way.

When the ring was at the base of Lilith's finger, Mitch looked into her eyes. “Perfect fit,” he mused.

Lilith picked up the other ring and slid it onto Mitch's ring finger. It also fit as though it had been made for him. She stretched up to brush her lips across his.

“Kismet,” she whispered, her heart singing when Mitch kissed her soundly.

Because that was exactly what it was.

 

* * *

 

If you enjoyed LOVE POTION #9 and you post a review online, you could win a free book from Claire!

 

Each month, Claire hosts a contest in appreciation of readers who post reviews. Please visit her blog and choose Reviewers' Contest from the category sidebar for more details.

 

http://www.delacroix.net/blog

 

* * *

 

Ready for more time travel romance?

Please read on for a taste of THE MOONSTONE
,

now available in new digital and print editions.

 

* * *

 

THE MOONSTONE ©1999, 2011 Claire Delacroix, Inc.

 

 

North Britain - September 1390

 

Sir Niall of Malloy was not in a good mood.

'Twas the kind of rainy winter morning that made his knee ache in memory of a battle wound he would prefer to forget. His belly growled in mighty protest of the fact that he had not had even the time the break his fast before he had been summoned. 'Twas only made worse by the reason
why
he had been summoned so early this morn.

Because Niall sorely disliked executing prisoners.

He particularly disliked executing women prisoners.

But that was precisely what he had to do this morn. At least, he had to go to down to that miserable pit of a dungeon and accompany some poor misbegotten soul to her demise. There were finer ways for a man to start his day, Niall was certain.

Indeed, 'twas in moments like these that he found the employ of the archbishop particularly onerous. Of late, there were just too many days beginning like this one. Niall had a difficult time believing that the hearts of so many men and women in this corner of the land were rotted with evil.

Indeed, he was heartily skeptical that witchcraft had any truth to it at all. As much as he hated to even consider such a traitorous thought, Niall believed his patron was dead wrong. Sorcery was the stuff of tall tales alone.

Yet 'twas the plain truth that a scarred old warrior like himself had few other options for earning his keep. Niall was not more than eight and twenty, though his soul felt shriveled beyond all since his injury.

How he missed being in command of his own fate!

Those days, however, were gone for good. The cold in the nether regions of the castle brought the ache in his knee to a bellow, which was fitting enough for his circumstance. Niall limped along the old stone corridor grumpily, hating that he was no less fettered than the many prisoners moaning within their damp cells.

'Twas no consolation that the old hag who was to die was likely more uncomfortable than he. Niall's heart twisted in a most unsoldierly fashion at the task before him.

One bad fall and he had gotten soft.

Niall could not have said why he felt particularly troubled by the women condemned by the archbishop's court to die, for he was quite certain that he had been completely spared his comrades' weakness for the fair sex. Either that, or his trying sister had cured him of any such inclinations.