Chapter Fourteen

 

 

“Come, m’lady… the time has arrived.”

Maggie quickly picked up her gown, her underclothes, her shoes and hose, and followed Evan from her chamber. She looked back over her shoulder and tried to memorize everything. The time she had spent in this house had changed the way she viewed life.

“Hurry, m’lady,” Evan urged, holding his candle higher.

Maggie didn’t need further coaxing. Her future waited for her down the hall. She followed Evan into the darkened hallway. Deep shadows were cast along the stone walls as they hurried, and Maggie felt a shudder of fear. She still didn’t trust Robert. Even his own mother worried that he would demand retribution from Nick. Such silliness, Maggie thought, the way these men prized their reputations. In this time, one would even kill for it. Once they left this place, she and Nick would be fine. She had to believe that, but right now she couldn’t wait until Greville Manor was just a memory.

Evan lightly knocked on a door, then stepped aside, and Maggie’s heart pounded in expectation.

The old door creaked open slowly and when Nick saw Maggie, he flung it wide to clasp her in his arms. She felt his body against hers and his heart beating against her breast as he pulled her farther into the room.

“Thank you, Evan,” Maggie murmured with a blush as she turned back to the servant.

The man smiled slightly and nodded before closing the door. Nick took the clothes from her arms and set them on a chair. Again he pulled her into his arms and whispered against her hair, “Verily, I have worried for thy safety. I promised to protect you, then I was forced to desert you to my enemy.”

His eyes looked tortured, and Maggie brought her finger to his lips. “Hush, my love, it was a very courageous thing you did today. We would not have this moment right now had you resisted Robert.” She kissed his lips and smiled. “A small price to pay for this, isn’t it?”

Nick grinned, and Maggie saw the worry and anger leave his expression. “I would bear anything to hold thee, to love thee again…” And his mouth captured hers in a breathtaking kiss.

Maggie felt her senses reel with passion and, as her knees actually buckled beneath her, Nick reached down and did something no other had. He picked her up, as if she weighed nothing, and carried her to the bed. His chamber was dark, save for one candle on a table and the light from the fireplace. In the low amber glow, Maggie looked into Nick’s eyes and knew she was home, that place of belonging she had been struggling to find all her life.

“Nick…” She breathed his name when he laid her down and bent over her. Brushing a lock of blond hair away from his eyes, Maggie whispered, “Make love to me… please? I don’t know about the future, but I do know mat right here is where I belong. With you, wherever you are.”

“Oh, my lovely lady,” he said, bending down and kissing the tip of her nose. “Verily, I have wanted to worship thy body from the moment I met thee. I grant thy wish with gladness… t’would be a pleasure of discovery and recollection, for my mind tells me that we have loved many times, in many lives, and our reunion was destined.”

“I don’t understand it, but I feel I have known you forever,” she whispered.

He stripped the ruffled shirt from his body and Maggie gasped as he looked at her with an expression that she had known forever. It was love. Love. And it was a love that she recognized. She didn’t need to understand it, yet she couldn’t deny that in his eyes she saw a passion they had shared before.

She held out her hand and welcomed him back into her heart, her mind, her body.

He came to rest with his knee between her thighs on the bed and untied her robe. Seeing the thin gown beneath, Nick sharply inhaled as his fingers traced a line to her breasts. “You are so beautiful,” he breathed.

Maggie smiled and raised her fingers through the air. “I’m sprinkling faerie dust in front of your eyes,” she whispered. “I hope you always see me like this.”

He captured her hand and kissed her palm. “My eyes need no magic to behold the woman I have waited for my entire life. Thou shalt be always beautiful in my eyes, my sweet, sweet lady.”

She pulled him down to her and kissed him with all the love she contained. He answered her love with his own and added passion to bring her higher. Gasping when they parted, Maggie pushed herself into a sitting position and began to pull the robe from her arms. “I don’t care anymore… I have to feel you against me.” It was a bold and honest statement. She had waited long enough for this moment.

Nick laughed. “As ye wish, my lady,” he complied and began to unlace his tightly fitted breeches.

Within moments they were together, skin against skin, under a fur cover, shivering in each other’s arms with cold and anticipation.

“Ahh…” Maggie couldn’t contain the moan of pleasure as she was pulled against the hot length of him. Immediately, she wound her arms around him and caressed his back, using her hands to memorize each muscle. She raised her chin and looked into his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I don’t understand it, but I know it’s true. You and I have been like this before. I know you, Nicholas Layton… as I have never known another. You truly are the other half of my soul.”

His eyes closed briefly, as though taking in her words. “I am so honored,” he answered, lightly caressing her back, her hip, her thigh with such tenderness that the small of her back arched in response… “Honored, thou has recognized me, accept me, and allow me to share my love. I would die for thee, Maggie Whitaker. I cherish you that much.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you to die for me, Nick. I want you to make love to me. I’ve waited a lifetime for you.”

Words were no longer needed as hands became instruments of discovery and mourns tasted skin aflame with desire. They stared into each other’s eyes, watching the changes upon each other’s faces as new discoveries were made. It was as if he knew exactly how to touch her, what would excite her and build her passion, and Maggie thrilled to see that instinctively her hands, her body, would do the same for him. This was the rediscovery of each other.

When Nick slid on top of her, Maggie closed her eyes and held him closely, never wanting to let go. His hot breath was in her ear, whispering her name over and over as she arched her back and invited him into her. “Not just yet,” he gasped. “Patience, my beloved, I must adore every bit of you.”

She moaned as he slid down her body, capturing first one breast and then finally, mercifully, paying homage to both. She clutched his shoulders and wound her fingers through his silky hair as she ground her head into the pillow. Her hands dropped, clutching the fur blanket to anchor her, while charges of exquisite pleasure raced through her body, inflaming her already hot blood. His lips traced an intricate line down her belly, around her navel, and Maggie was shocked to discover the intensity of her reaction. No longer did her mind torture her with insecurities. She belonged to him and surrendered to an ageless, timeless passion.

He worshiped her completely, bringing her to the very edge of rapture, only to stop and slide up her body. She felt tears run down her cheeks and clasped him tightly against her, as if just the pressure of his body might ease this exquisite pain in hers. Her legs entwined with his as he breathed deeply into her mouth, “Now we shall be one. One mind. One heart. One body. One soul… Come dance amid the stars with me, my precious… for surely that is where this love began.”

Her legs encircled him in a sensuous movement and he entered her gently, slowly, almost reverently, allowing her time, as his eyes spoke to her with such love that again, Maggie arched her back and this time he entered her fully as together, as one, they were joined completely and eternally. She was inflamed, hungering for something that was just out of reach, and her movements matched his as he took her higher and higher into uncharted territory, beyond the candlelit chamber… beyond bodies where lovers of old meet and dance amid starlight. And all the while, he stared into her eyes, watching her, speaking to her, guiding her, promising to love her not just now… but forever.

Their movements quickened as the pace of the ancient dance increased. He was leading her now, and she surrendered everything, save the exquisite pulsing sensation that seemed to build in intensity with each thrust of passion.

“Please,” she cried out, wanting to end the magnificent torture.

“As ye wish, m’lady,” he whispered in a low rumble of passion, and brought her back to the edge and then, suddenly, together, they broke free of all earthly bounds and soared beyond themselves, holding on tightly as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over them.

Maggie felt herself shattering, coming apart into thousands upon thousands of fragments of such intense pleasure that she cried out his name in awe.

“Nick…”

He quickly followed, holding her so close that when his body arched, Maggie melded into him, grabbing her shattered fragments and merging with his.

It was a wondrous and extraordinary reunion of souls.

They held each other thus, prolonging the moment of passion as aftershocks rippled through them. Finally, as they gazed into each other’s eyes with awe, he collapsed onto her breast, and Maggie lightly brushed his hair back from his damp brow.

“Thank you, my love,” she breathed, slowly coming back to the room and reality. Never had she even imagined that such a fusion of souls was possible.

He was shaking his head slowly as he raised it to gaze at her once more. “Thou art everything to me now. I pledge to thee my life and my love. Thank you, thank you, thank you… I am truly alive!” He kissed her lips with tenderness. “This is an ancient love, Maggie. I feel it deep inside… can ye feel it as well?”

“Yes.” The admission was easy for her. She knew him as she had known no other.

“We have loved this way before, my angel.”

“Yes.”

“And we shall love again. I ask thee, Maggie Whitaker… Do you accept me as thy one true love throughout all eternity?” The intensity in his eyes was riveting. “No matter what may come to pass, wherever our souls may travel, we shall find each other again and again and remember each other, support and love each other from this moment hence.”

“No one will ever love me like you do, Nick… I know that.” She stared back, opening her soul to him. She wanted him to see the truth of her words. “I accept you as my mate, my twin soul, my true love, and I will never want another. This I promise. I will always know you. You’re a part of me now.”

“I believe we were and always shall be a part of each other, Maggie. Equally, it has been our eternal quest… to find each other again in this lifetime. To bring a face, a voice, a touch to that lonely part of us.” He smiled. “And thou art so beautiful, my love. I am truly blessed.”

She giggled. “Hmm, and if my looks didn’t please you, would you still love me?”

He moved slightly and rested his cheek against his raised fist. His grin increased as he used his other hand to caress her face, “I would know thee anywhere and though I am blessed that you are beautiful, I would love thee even if you were not. This love, sweet lady, goes beyond the physical union. This is of the spirit. Whatever we are made of, you and I, ’tis the same.”

Maggie remembered her aunt saying almost the same thing to Malcolm. She reached up and brought Nick’s face down to hers. Kissing him thoroughly, Maggie sighed with contentment. “I am very pleased,” she announced and laughed along with him.

“Prithee do not remind me, my lady, of that scoundrel Amesbury,” he growled through his low chuckle.

Maggie pulled out from beneath him and curled into his body. She ran her hand over his back, the slope of his bottom, and asked, “What is it between you and Robert? Why such antagonism?”

“And how am I to remain in such serious mind when thy touch is once more inflaming me?”

She laughed and kissed his shoulder. “Just tell me.”

He rolled over and slid back against the velvet pillows. Pulling her to his chest, he held her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. “’Tis a political game Robert and I play.”

She curled her leg over his legs and wound her arm over his waist as her head lay on his chest. The strong beat of his heart matched her own and she sighed with a deep fulfillment. “Politics… I’ve already heard so much from Elthea. She says we will leave by daybreak and then you must promise me to put whatever it is with Robert behind you. I do not intend to lose any more time with you, and he would make our lives miserable. Promise me?”

He didn’t say anything, and Maggie raised her head to see him. He looked serious.

“Allow me to quench my thirst before answering thy query?”

“Of course,” Maggie said, and moved away. She almost groaned when he left the bed and she lost his sensuous warmth. Of course, she was rewarded with the delicious sight of him walking naked across the room. His incredible form was bathed in the golden glow from the firelight as he bent over to stoke the embers.

He returned with a filled goblet and Maggie wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming up this fantastic man. He was hers… for eternity!

Nick offered her the goblet and Maggie sipped the bitter ale. Handing it back, she straightened out the pillows and waited for him to join her. He slipped under the fur cover next to her and leaned back.

“There is a story that needs to be told. I may open my heart to thee, my beloved, and know it shall pass no further, for this is the stuff one can lose one’s head over. Allow me to begin without interruptions, for it is tangled and weaves its way in many directions.”

“All right,” Maggie whispered, and leaned her head on his shoulder as she hugged his waist. “I can’t promise not to interrupt, but you may tell me anything, and I will keep your trust, Nicholas.”

He stroked her hair tenderly. “Of that I am sure, precious one, but it is for thine own safety that I warn.” He took a deep breath and began.

“This involves many and begins with the story of young lovers, much like ourselves. I know not what may already be known to thee.” He sipped the ale. “The tale of fact and woe begins with our queen, when she was but a princess, committed to the Tower under suspicion of treason, for it was alleged she plotted to secure the throne to the Protestant Succession. At the same time, already in the Tower, was Robert Dudley, later known as the Earl of Leicester, who had attempted to aid his father, the Duke of Northumberland, in declaring Lady Jane’ Gray as Queen of England. He was sentenced to death, yet it was not carried out and thus he met the young Elizabeth in the Tower and they fell in love. It has been said that Elizabeth and Dudley were secretly married for the first time there. A year later, Queen Mary died, and Elizabeth ascended the throne. She was twenty and five with an empty treasury and a nation divided by religion. One of her first acts was to appoint her secret spouse Master of the Horse, an honorable and valuable post which conveniently gave him lodging at court and personal attendance on the Queen.”

“So they were able to be together?” Maggie asked, attempting to keep all the names straight in her head.

“Much to the displeasure of the court. She became so unduly affectionate with Dudley, it was not long before rumors began stating the Queen was with child.” He paused. “There have been several people who have been sent to prison for saying this, so by making thee privy to such knowledge, my love, endangers thee further.”

“Who am I going to tell?” She almost laughed.

“Merely possessing this knowledge, even if kept to oneself, is enough to endanger you if we are together.” He held her tighter.

“We’re in this together, Nick. You should be able to share everything with me, as I will with you. Okay, so tell me more,” she asked, kissing his chest. “Before I become distracted.”

He stroked her hair and she listened to his voice reverberate against her ear. “It is said that there is an official record stating that our Queen Elizabeth was again secretly married in the house of Lord Pembroke before a number of witnesses. The rumors began to fly from Spain to Rome and back again. All of this is to say that many, including Robert of Amesbury, our reluctant host this night, know mat in 1571 a statute was passed by Parliament at the behest of the Queen which makes it a penal offense to speak of any successor to the crown, save her natural issue, for she had rejected the term legal heirs.”

Maggie raised her head. “Did she have a child, or not? And who’s the father?”

“She did. A son was born at York Place, a royal Tudor, and given to Sir Nicholas Bacon and his wife to raise as their own. Francis does bare an uncanny resemblance to the Earl of Leicester.”

“Francis Bacon?” Maggie was struggling to understand this complicated tale.

Nicholas nodded. “I came to this knowledge when my childhood friend, Anthony Bacon, stepbrother to Francis, spoke of Her Royal Majesty visiting Francis many times, and taking Francis under her wing, sending him to Cambridge for education and to Italy and France for further education. It is only in the last few years that I have formed a close alliance with Francis and have heard his story and of what he learned in his world travels. He was promised legitimacy by his rightful mother for many years, yet has been made to keep silent that he is the Prince of Wales and heir to the throne.

“When his adopted father died, he was left nothing, although Anthony was well endowed. Perhaps, Sir Nicholas Bacon was giving a mute indication that Francis’s expectation lay elsewhere. His mother, our Queen, has treated him poorly… first dangling the treat before his eyes and then withdrawing it as she played her lengthy and delicate political game with all of Europe.”

“Francis Bacon is the heir to the throne? Does Robert know this?” She sat up straighter and pulled the fur blanket around her breasts.

“There are two heirs. Bacon and the Earl of Essex, another issue from Her Royal Majesty’s body. Many know of it, and Robert would like nothing better than to see Bacon in the Tower and a Catholic back upon the throne when Elizabeth dies. Already Essex is gaining disfavor with the Queen, for both mother and son are prideful and hot-tempered. Francis, as the older son, would be the rightful heir.”

“Why does Robert hate you?” she asked.

“He knows of my close association with Sir Francis and that I am part of a… a group of individuals that encourages the departure of Rome’s influence in this country.”

“What does this… group do?”

“We are a clandestine society, dedicated to the elevation of man’s mind and thus his station in life. We encourage the seeking of knowledge, the practice of wisdom, and the freedom of the soul. We follow the tenets of the Rosicrosse, a secret literary society based on a very old mystery school. Sir Francis has been vocal in his opposition to control by Rome and also is averse to all corruptions, advocating free parliaments. He says laws were made to guard the rights of the common, not to feed lawyers, and should therefore be comprehensible to all.”

Maggie watched him sip more ale. She smiled. “It sounds like Francis would make a good king. I guess I understand why Robert is so opposed to you and him, especially if the good of the common people is important to you. Robert has no time for anyone common.”

“Robert of Amesbury has no time for anyone who would not further his own cause. Already he has begun to sway the Queen against Bacon again. Francis was denied access to court, his allowance from the Queen cut, and for years, he survived financially by selling his works of recreation. He has a fine mind and a rare gift for comedy and tragedy.”

“He’s a writer?”

“I may reveal to you that he is, indeed, a writer of plays and great philosophical works, though Her Royal Majesty has made him swear never to write or speak or print secrets under his own name. And he has kept his promise. It was Lady Bacon, Anthony’s mother, who unwittingly provided the means.”

“I don’t understand. Francis is a writer who swore never to write?”

Nick laughed. “It is an intricate web, I agree, but allow me to unweave it for thee. Francis’s works of recreation were beginning to be performed. Lady Bacon, Francis’s adoptive mother was horrified that her son, Anthony, and her adopted son, Francis, were involved in such mummeries and demanded that they cease. Francis then knew he needed a mask to continue writing his dramatic performances. He had been trained by masters in the art of cleverly concealing truth, the greatest teacher being his own mother, and so he devised a brilliant plan to publish his thoughts while concealing his identity. His muse is Pallas Athena, a Greek goddess representing the intellectual aspects of challenge. She carries a spear and is helmeted. Pallas means ‘to shake’ and William is from the German meaning ‘helmet of’… his mask is perfect. He writes from the helmet of the spear shaker, and uses codes and ciphers, tenets of the Rosicrosse, to identify his true authorship.”

Maggie held her breath for a moment. “Wait a minute. You are saying O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo was written by Francis?”

“Yes. A talented man he is as either the Prince of Wales, denied legitimacy by his own mother, or a lawyer championing the common, or a writer of works where he delves into the minds and machinations of nobility.”

Maggie’s mind was spinning and she sat up straighter. “Wait… wait…” She held her hand up to interrupt him. “Shakespeare wrote Romeo and Juliet.”

“Yes. Shakespeare is Bacon’s name for the stage. A fine name for a playwright.”

“William Shakespeare, from Stratford-upon-Avon wrote it,” Maggie insisted.

Nick startled her by throwing back his head and laughing. Laughing.

She could only stare at him as he collected himself and continued. “Oh, sweet one, if you are speaking about a certain actor, William Shakspur of Stratford, I think the man would know more about an odd yard land, buying up farms, than the machinations of the nobility. He is barely educated and not such a finished actor, either, if truth be told.” He looked at her strangely. “How would you know of this man?”

Maggie didn’t know how else to answer him. “Nicholas, this actor, is given the credit for all of Shakespeare’s or Sir Francis Bacon’s work. It is history. We’re taught—”

“Then you have been taught incorrectly,” he interrupted in a serious voice. “Francis Bacon is the author of Romeo and Juliet, Henry the VI, Taming of the Shrew, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Love’s Labour’s Lost… why…” he almost stammered in his frustration, “… the play even impressed Lord Campbell by the author’s accurate knowledge of the law! Shakspur might have saved himself being returned as defaulter in subsidy tax in St. Helen’s, if he were the true author and knew anything at all about the process of law!”

“Calm down, Nick,” Maggie interrupted. “I’m as frustrated as you are. I’ve been taught one thing, the whole world has been taught one thing, and now you’re telling me the greatest writer in the world is a hoax?!”

Nicholas stared at her with the strangest expression, as though putting together something in his mind. His voice, when he spoke, was a mere whisper of shock. “Pray that I have misunderstood thee. Four hundred years into the future, it is not yet discovered that Sir Francis Bacon is the true author of the works? This cannot be so!”

“But it is,” Maggie answered. “Everyone, everywhere, for hundreds of years, has believed that William Shakespeare, a sometimes actor and brilliant playwright, is the author of Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth… and I don’t know how many others. I don’t really know that much about Shakespeare, so I can’t tell you a lot about him, but I’ve never heard of Sir Francis Bacon being the author. I don’t even know why I remember Bacon’s name at all… but I do. I just don’t remember why.”

“Bacon has left his authorship,” Nick stated. “From the very beginning, he has been using ciphers and codes, in the word honorificabilitudinitatibus—”

Maggie laughed, as the language rolled off his artistically trained tongue. “What in the world is that?” She wouldn’t even attempt to repeat it.

“’Tis a game, the making of long words… it means honorable and was being used at court at the time Bacon wrote Love’s Labour’s. He used the original Latin ablative plural when he had Costard, the clown say to the servant Moth, ‘I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word, for thou art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus’.”

He paused while she giggled again. “’Tis a code, Maggie… for the rearranged letters form the Latin sentence, ‘These plays, born of F. Bacon, are preserved for the world.’ “

She stopped giggling and stared at him.

“Francis Bacon is not given credit for the plays, Nick. I don’t even know if anyone has discovered this.”

“’Tis an ill discover who thinks there is no land when he can see nothing but sea.”‘

She shook her head. “I am sorry, Nick, but I can only tell you my truth. And that is Francis Bacon is not known in history as the author of the works… it’s Shakespeare.”

He suddenly grabbed her shoulders. “That is why you have come back… to tell Bacon… he must be more obvious, or declare himself author now to stop this madness. A sorry lot like Shakspur is renowned throughout time as the author of Henry VI. It should not be so!”

Maggie could only blink in disbelief! She was supposed to tell the person, the brilliant mind of Sir Francis Bacon, illegitimate son of the Virgin Queen, that he must declare himself author of Hamlet, Macbeth, and every other work bearing the name William Shakespeare!

She leaned back, shaking her head, and muttering, “I don’t think so.” Reaching for the shared goblet, she sipped the ale.

Nick became very still. “You think not… ?”

“Look, Nicholas Layton, I came back in time for you. That much I have fully accepted. I’m not into changing history or any other heroic insanity, okay?” Handing the goblet to him, she sat back and folded her arms over her breasts. “You’d better understand that right up front on this adventure.”

Nick stared out to the darkened room. They each had a few moments to integrate the extraordinary events that had just taken place. They had made the most exquisite love and joined in mind, body, and soul. Neither could deny it. They had each acknowledged the other as the one they wanted to spend eternity with, over and over to meet and join and love unconditionally. It was not their first mental duel, nor would it obviously be their last. Each respected the other and yet held their own beliefs, and the air was almost tangible with the strain of emotions between them.

Finally, Nicholas said, “I have no wish to place you in danger, my sweet one. I have vowed I would die for you and, willingly, I would. You must believe my word, and yet I must also follow mine own heart in this matter. This is a mission one of us must accomplish. We came together for it! Can you not see this? Did not Countess Elthea say that twin souls reunite to fulfill their mission?”

“My mission is love,” Maggie stated, as tears came into her eyes. She sounded exactly like her aunt Edithe. She had said love was her agenda.

“As is mine, my beloved,” he whispered, turning to her and gathering her into his arms. He gently stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Can you not see we were traveling to Francis in London this morning before we were stopped by Robert? We already knew where we should go, we merely didn’t know the entire reason why until now. Do you not speak of adventure? ‘He is an ill discover who thinks there is no land when he can see nothing but sea.’ It takes courage, my love, to have an adventure, to believe the land is out there beyond the sea of fear. And now, on your adventure, you have your own devoted knight who would die for you. Would you ask for more confirmation that you are well suited to the mission?”

He was starting to make sense, or at least stir up something inside of her that said she was experiencing one hell of an adventure, something she had never in her life imagined. What could it hurt to tell Bacon her story, and while doing it relate that William Shakespeare happened to be known as the most respected writer in history?

She took a deep breath as she continued to hold him. “All right. I’ll do it, but I’m not getting more involved in all this political madness. And I don’t want you caught up in it, either. You must promise me that.”

She felt him nodding above her.

“I promise I shall not become involved with political madness.”

“Ever.”

He chuckled. “Ever. I am but a poor minstrel, after all…”

His words trailed off, and Maggie felt his muscles stiffen. “What’s wrong?” she asked, and lifted her head to see him.

Nick appeared startled. “How shall I provide a life befitting such a glorious adventurer?” He looked into her eyes. “What have I asked of thee, Maggie Whitaker? I am not a man of wealth.”

She giggled and slapped his chest playfully. “Oh, stop it! If it makes you feel any better, I’m not of wealth either. I was waiting for an eviction notice on my home any day before I left! Now don’t be ridiculous… we shall live, Nicholas Layton, for as long as it lasts… happily ever after.”

His words, when they came, seemed filled with awe. “Such a woman of courage thou art. Like no other I have ever known. Happily ever after is how most tales end. Life does not always comply, my love, as we both have known.”

“Well ours begins there, mister,” she announced. “For once in my life I’m going to go for it with everything I’ve got.”

Maggie felt such love that she couldn’t contain her smile. “This isn’t courage, my love… this is a knowing I can’t deny. Besides, it’s my birthday today, and that’s my wish. Happily ever after.”

“Happy birthday, my love. When we get to London tomorrow, I shall buy thee a fine gift.” He gathered her completely into his arms, muttering into her neck, “Come back with me, my beloved… let us again free ourselves of these earthly bounds and soar into the heavens.” Picking up the candle, he whispered, “Make thy wish proper.”

She closed her eyes and, for a moment, wished with everything in her heart that she and Nick spend eternity together. Opening her lids, she smiled like a kid at the best birthday party of her life. “It’s done.”

“Blow the candle, love… send thy wish out there.”

She did, and the room was cast into the soft warm glow from the fireplace.

He pulled her back into his arms and whispered into her ear. “I have a gift for thee… one of love, my precious one.”

She melted.