A Basket of Wishes
Page 39
He broke off when a tremendous burst of silver stars descended from the sky and settled over the woods. From within the bright magic Harmony stepped out, her fingers curled around Emil’s arm. She and Emil took one look at Jourdian and Splendor, and knew exactly what had happened. “Harmony?” the king queried. “Is that you?”
“Aye, Father, ’tis I.”
“But—but where is your fire, daughter? I have never seen you come or go without your explosion of blazes. And who is this man you have brought?”
“Father,” Harmony murmured, looking around at Pillywiggin’s peers, “I did not know I would be interrupting an assembly. Please forgive me.”
King Wisdom scowled. Was this polite, soft-spoken fairy really Harmony?
“May I speak?” Harmony asked him.
“What? Uh… Aye.”
“I have married,” she announced quietly, her fingers clutching Emil’s arm. “The Trinity’s cousin is my husband.”
“What?” King Wisdom roared.
“This is Emil, Father. He is my husband.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty,” Emil said. “Or may I call you Father?”
The king had never known such rage. “You have married without my permission?” he demanded of Harmony.
“I love Emil, and he loves me. Therefore, I am at liberty to stay in the human world.”
“You are at liberty to do naught without my leave, daughter!”
“I have conceived, Father,” Harmony continued calmly, not about to allow him to destroy the joy she’d found with Emil. “I carry not one child but two, a boy and a girl.”
At that, the king’s fury vanished. “Twins?”
“Aye.”
King Wisdom stared at Harmony and Emil, then at Splendor and Jourdian. What was he to do? he asked himself.
Oh, the trials of fatherhood, he lamented. And without his wife to help him, either! Always off on one of her missions, the queen was rarely available when daughter problems arose.
Massaging the back of his neck, he began to pace, but a sweet and feminine voice soon stopped him.
“Wisdom!” the musical voice called.
He looked up and saw a bright silver cloud. “Pleasure,” he whispered.
The queen floated gracefully down to earth, her thick ebony hair cloaking her pale, slender body, her heavy necklace shining like pearls.
“Mother!” Splendor and Harmony cried. Quickly they left their husbands, joined their mother, and began talking at once.
“Daughters, please,” Queen Pleasure entreated. “I have only just returned from my lengthy mission, and I am weary.” But at the crestfallen looks on Splendor and Harmony’s faces, she relented. “Very well,” she said, smiling and caressing her daughters’ smooth cheeks. “What is this all-important news you have?”
They explained everything that had occurred in the forest that evening, leaving out not a single detail.
“I see,” Queen Pleasure murmured thoughtfully when they’d finished. “Wisdom,” she snapped, glaring at her husband, “you are not living up to your name. ’Tis a simple problem to solve, and yet you have failed to see the solution that is right beneath your nose!”
“I…I have done the best I— Your daughters are—”
These are women problems they have presented, Pleasure, and I am…” He stopped speaking, frowned, and raised his chin. “Madam, you will nay speak to me thus!” he declared imperiously. “I am king, and you are only queen!”
“And an arrogant one you are, too, Wisdom.” Queen Pleasure dismissed his anger with a smile and a wave of her hand. Her heavy necklace swaying upon her bare chest, she looked at the man Harmony had married. “Would you be willing to live in Pillywiggin?” she asked, reaching up to touch a lock of his tousled sandy hair.
Emil didn’t have to think before answering. “I would, Your Majesty. Wherever Harmony is, is where I want to be as well.”
Satisfied, the queen moved her gaze to her eldest daughter. “And you, Splendor. Would you be willing to give the title of princess royal to Harmony?”
“Aye!” Splendor squealed. “Aye, Mother, I will gladly give my title to her, for I would rather be the duchess of Heathcourte!”
The queen nodded. “Then you may return to the human world with your husband.” She turned to face Harmony and Emil. “And you, Harmony, will remain in Pillywiggin. Your children will be born and raised here amongst us. One day you will be queen, and your husband will be the prince consort.”
“Oh, Mother, truly?” Harmony shouted.
“Truly. And Harmony, dear, give your husband his mountain of gold. I know that is one of his fondest dreams, and ’twill not hurt you to grant at least one wish.”
“I shall, Mother! Aye, I shall!” Instantly, Harmony conjured up a huge hill of gold.
Emil’s mouth fell wide open as he stared at the mound of wealth and thought about the title he would one day receive. A title, he thought. He would finally have a title! Dear God, every wish he’d ever entertained had been granted to him! “Jourdian, I’m going to be the prince consort! And…and look at my mountain of gold!”
Jourdian laughed with genuine happiness for his cousin.
“I am Queen Pleasure,” the queen introduced herself to her new sons-in-law.
When they bowed before her, King Wisdom grumbled. “I saw neither of you bow to me,” he flared out at them. Obediently they turned and bowed to him.
The queen took Emil’s hand. “I visited you many times when you were a child, Emil.”
“You—you did?”
She smiled and looked at Jourdian. “But I never visited you, Trinity. You did not believe in me.”
“I didn’t believe in you,” Jourdian repeated. “I… Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I don’t understand.”
Queen Pleasure shook her head. “You threw your baby teeth away. Emil put his under his pillow.”
Jourdian’s eyes widened. “You… Do you mean… Are you saying you’re the Tooth Fairy?”
“Aye.” Reaching up, Queen Pleasure fondled her heavy necklace, a string of hundreds of shiny teeth. “You believe in me now, do you not?”
“I believe in you, Your Majesty,” Jourdian answered readily. “And you will make certain that your son believes in me? I do not think I am mistaken in suspecting that the babe will be born in September.”
Jourdian nodded. “I’ll make certain my son believes in… Believes… September? My son?”
“Jourdian,” Splendor said softly. Taking his hand, she placed it upon her lower belly. “’Tis true, husband. I carry your heir. And Mother is right. We shall hold our son in our arms in September.”
For a moment, Jourdian couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Could barely take a breath.
And then the most profound joy he’d ever known burst within him. “Emil!” he shouted. “I’m going to be a father!” Wild with elation, he hugged and lifted Emil straight off the ground. He then embraced Harmony, Queen Pleasure, and even King Wisdom.
Finally, his chest heaving, he reached for Splendor. Taking her into his arms, he gazed into her glowing lavender eyes. “The day I met you I held not a hope in my heart of ever finding happiness. But you sailed into my life and offered something I never dreamed I would find.”
“I did? What did I give you?”
He kissed her tenderly, with every shred of his love. “You gave me a basket of wishes, Splendor. And they all came true.”
Epilogue
Jourdian watched as Splendor nursed their newborn. Completely unable to take his eyes off the miracle who was his heir, he smiled proudly as the babe greedily slurped and swallowed his mother’s milk.
The babe had entered the world only two hours before, and Jourdian’s heart was already bursting with love. “He’s perfect, Splendor.”
“Aye, that is what he is, husband. And he is brave. He did not even cry when he was born. Most babies cry, you know. Mother told me so.”
Jourdian nodded. “And look at him eat. With an appet
ite like that, he’ll grow strong.”
“He knows what is good for him, and we did not even have to teach him. I am certain that other mothers must show their newborns how to nurse.”
“Our son was born smart.”
Proud father and mother continued to watch their son as if he were the only infant in the entire world who knew how to suckle at a breast.
Minutes later, the babe fell asleep. Splendor took him from her breast and laid him upon the white satin pillow beside her hip.
Delicious, in the form of a baby chimpanzee, stroked the infant’s downy head with a long, hairy finger, then showed a mouthful of monkey teeth when he “smiled.” And Pharaoh, now a fat white rabbit with long, floppy ears, sniffed the baby with his pink little nose.
“What shall we call our son, Jourdian?” Splendor asked, caressing Delicious and Pharaoh so the animals wouldn’t feel jealous over the new arrival.
Carefully, Jourdian sat down on the bed. “His name doesn’t concern me yet, sprite.”
Splendor looked at her husband. “What concerns you?” Picking up his baby’s tiny hand, Jourdian gazed at his son for another long moment. “Do you think he takes more after me or more after you?”
“Well, he has your eyes and my—”
“That’s not what I meant, love.”
“Oh, Jourdian,” Splendor whispered. “You wonder if he is completely human or if he… Sweet everlasting, husband, will it matter very much to you if he has inherited the powers of Faerie?”
Smiling over her needless worry, Jourdian kissed the tip of her nose. “Not at all. I just want to know if I should go buy a pony or go find a dragonfly in one of the gardens.”
Laughing softly Splendor gazed down at her son again and saw him squirming on the pillow. “He is waking up.”
“It looks as though he’s going to cry.”
“Cry,” Splendor said.
“Cry,” Jourdian repeated.
In breathless anticipation, they watched their son.
The baby flailed his arms and legs, and wrinkled his nose and forehead. His face reddening, he opened his mouth and began to wail.
His little tears rolled off his plump cheeks, splashing upon his pillow.
And there, upon the white satin, gleaming like wishing stars in the sky, lay a sprinkle of tiny diamonds.
The End
* * *
Read Chapter One of Rebecca Paisley’s delightful historical romance Heartstrings
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About the Author
Since her debut novel was published, bestselling author Rebecca Paisley has become known for creating her very own unique brand of magic on the page.
She decided early in her career to write the sort of books she wanted to read. Her determination earned her a slot on the Publishers Weekly bestseller list and the Romance Writer's of America Honor Roll. She's been a RITA finalist, won the Romantic Times’ “Lifetime Achievement Award” and “Career Achievement Award,” a Reviewers’ Choice Award for “Historical Romance Fantasy” and a “Best Love and Laughter” Award.
Rebecca currently lives in North Carolina with her menagerie of beloved pets, still believes in magic, and still relies on the “pixie voices in her head” to inspire her as she works on a brand new book.
Visit Rebecca’s website http://www.rebeccapaisley.net
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Amber House Books by Rebecca Paisley
Happily Forever After (Formerly titled Rainbows and Rapture)
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The Barefoot Bride
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Diamonds and Dreams
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A Basket of Wishes
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Heartstrings
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Bed of Roses
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Moonlight and Magic
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A Prince to Call My Own (Formerly titled Midnight and Magnolias)
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Heartstrings by Rebecca Paisley
Sneak Peek
WANTED: TALL, DARK-HAIRED, BLUE-EYED MAN TO SIRE GENIUS CHILD. PRIZE: $100 IN GOLD
When bluestocking bookworm Theodosia Worth resolves to bear a baby for her childless sister, she decides an advertisement is the most practical way to find a father. Leaving behind the comforts of Boston, she travels west in the hopes of striking a business-only arrangement with a likely candidate.
Hired gun Roman Montana gallops into the dusty Texas town on his silver steed, not knowing he’s been hired to guard the luscious body of a golden-haired, whiskey-eyed beauty with plenty of “book smarts” but without a lick of common sense. Roman is forced to protect the infuriating woman—and her infernal parrot—from the lechers who respond to her ad.
Roman may not be a genius but he’s smart enough to realize he’s the only true candidate for the job of the “stud” who can make all of Theodosia’s dreams come true. By proving he’s up to the task, he just might earn a prize more precious than gold—Theodosia’s heart.
Chapter One
“Dr. Wallaby, would you be willing to impregnate me?” Oblivious to the appalled stares of the nearby passengers aboard the train, Theodosia hugged her parrot’s cage to her breasts, settled back into her seat, and contemplated the sound of her query. Ever since leaving Boston five days ago, she’d been pondering the all-important question. Now she felt the need to hear it with her own ears.
Nibbling at her bottom lip, she glanced out the window and saw a mass of huge pecan trees. Primrose and thistle painted the edge of the grove with bright hues of pink and purple, and yellow butterflies floated above the flowers like bubbles turned gold by the kiss of the sun.
But the beauty of the landscape began to fade, finally escaping her altogether. She could not concentrate on anything but the estimable Dr. Wallaby. Indeed, she imagined she could see the renowned scientist’s face within the sun-filled windowpane.
“Dr. Wallaby,” she began rehearsing again, “it is imperative that I conceive a child. You meet all the qualifications regarding the paternity of the child, and it would please me enormously if you would consent to be his or her sire. The act required for the conception is, of course, a mere scientific procedure, and I don’t believe I am mistaken in believing that it can be accomplished in a totally objective manner and, no doubt, in a relatively short amount of time.”
Gasps and loud whispering filled the compartment. Theodosia focused her attention on her fellow passengers, noting their mouths were agape. “I apologize for disturbing you. I was conversing with myself.”
“I was conversing with myself,” John the Baptist echoed. “Awk!” he screamed, then splashed a beakful of water onto Theodosia’s dark blue skirt.
Cooing to her bird, Theodosia met each person’s stare directly. “Allow me to elaborate. I’m of the inclination that the ear must hear thoughts before the mind is able to grasp their full significance and keep them in separate and precise order. And if one’s thought pertains to a specific conundrum, said problem is quite likely to be solved if one simply voices it rather than merely contemplates it. That is the reason why I converse with myself.”
John the Baptist stuck his beak through his cage bars. “That is the reason why I converse with myself,” he mimicked.
Theodosia sprinkled a few sunflower seeds into her parrot’s cage, then turned back to the window. Fondling her small heart-shaped ruby brooch and the delicate gold chains that hung down f
rom it, she realized the train was slowing in preparation for the arrival at Oates’ Junction.
She dug into her reticule and withdrew the slip of paper upon which was written the name of the man Dr. Wallaby had arranged to escort her to Templeton. “Roman Montana,” she read quietly. “Tall. Long black hair. Blue eyes.”
She wanted to believe Mr. Montana would be at the station waiting for her, but she prepared herself for the possibility that he was not. Upton had explained that in the South people were slower, their way of life unhurried. She wasn’t certain of the reasons behind such leisure but decided that in all likelihood Roman Montana would be late.
The tinge of irritation she felt impelled her to take a moment to analyze her mood. The train hadn’t even come to a complete stop yet, and here she was already impatient with Roman Montana.
“Theodosia,” she scolded herself out loud, “impatience is an emotion that is rarely advantageous and often leads to true anger. If indeed Roman Montana is unpunctual, you will accept the situation in a self-possessed fashion and keep in mind the fact that not everyone enjoys being as prompt as you do.”
As the declaration left her lips, the train came to a hissing halt. Theodosia pulled her gloves onto her hands and her escort out of her mind.
After all, she reminded herself, she had not journeyed all the way from Boston for the company of some long-haired, lackadaisical Texan named Roman Montana.
Theodosia gave a great huff, choking as the blistering heat filled her chest. “One would think there was invisible fire in Texas air,” she mumbled. One at a time, she lifted her overly warm feet off the sunbaked platform at the depot, hard pressed to keep from being knocked to the ground by the other passengers hurrying toward the shelter of the train station.