by Ingrid Hahn
“Make it up to you. You mean your, er, cottage?”
“My life.”
He smiled, full and bright since the first time she’d fallen into his arms three days ago. There was freedom in that smile. True freedom. “Under the old rules, I believe your life now belongs to me.”
“Belongs to . . . I’d sooner give my life over to a . . . to a badger.”
His grin went wry. “Badger, eh?”
“Yes. A badger. But . . . as there is no badger here . . . I suppose you’ll have to do.” She smiled back at him. “In a way, you are a gateway guardian yourself. Just not the gateway you supposed.”
She extended her arm out. He took her hand and pulled her toward him, feral pleasure gleaming from his dark eyes. She gasped as he captured her in his arms.
Against her, he was warm and solid and so . . . so deliciously Roland.
She breathed a contented sigh. Oh, damn. How could she possibly care? If he thought they’d still escape this underground lair, who was she to negate him?
“It was your mother, you know.”
“What?” Roland sent an uneasy glance in the direction the gateway had opened.
“No, that’s not what I mean. She wasn’t here. She knew we could get through this, that’s all. She knew that there would be a future, a future for us.” She shook her head. “I feel so foolish not having realized before. Everyone else warned me against attempting this. She already knew what I would have to do. What it would come to.”
Roland caught the underside of her chin with a crooked finger and tilted her head back to look at him.
She heated under the warmth of his gaze. “Now what?” And she didn’t mean about their predicament.
Roland brought her hand up and pressed her fingers to his lips. “Oh, my love. My dearest, dearest love. Now it will be as it always should have been.”
Author’s Note
In pursuit of a good story, I took liberties (supernatural elements aside), most notably in how I referenced a small but important character. I always try to do my best with historical research, but if you’re versed in 17th century France outside of Louis XIV’s court, you might spot a flub or two. But as to the witches hunting, that was all too real. Gabriel Nicolas de la Reynie and Magdelaine de La Grange were living, breathing figures in history. If you find yourself more interested in the drama of this dark time, Affair of the Poisons by Anne Somerset and City of Light, City of Poison by Holly Tucker might be good places to start.