by Wendy Burge
She blinked and looked again.
Varek’s eyes.
“Hello, lark.” His whisper was a mere sigh across her cheek.
Disoriented, she told herself, “I am dreaming.”
“Do I look like a dream?” His smile was woefully strained.
Still dazed, she told him mindlessly, “You look horrible.”
And he did. His gaunt face was so ashen that his skin looked gray. The translucent flesh was stretched tightly over protruding bones, and his eyes were sunken and bruised. The beautiful blue of his irises was dull and almost colorless—a far cry from the azure glory of only months ago.
“Are we dead?” she asked stupidly.
“No, my love.” He slowly shifted, and a flash of pain wrenched his wasted features. She reached her hand toward him and his hand shot out to catch hers, stopping it short of her goal. Confused, she glanced down at their joined hands, and instead she saw the little bundle she had almost hit.
Snuggled against its father’s stomach was their newborn infant, sound asleep. Their child? Again she wondered at this most wonderful dream.
“Thank you, lark. He is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
Tears rushed to her eyes. Twisting her hand out of his, it wavered in midair, not sure who she wanted to touch first. He took the decision away from her when he gently grasped it again and raised it to his mouth. His lips were dry and hot, cracked, but never had she felt anything so tender as his lips caressing the palm of her hand. Then he wrapped her fingers around the downy head of their son.
It suddenly hit her that this was no dream—this was real! “My God,” she gasped as she painfully raised herself onto her elbow and leaned closer to her love. “It really is you!”
His shaking fingers reached out to stroke her cheek. “I told you I would find you.”
“But how?” she stuttered, wanting to know everything.
Sighing, he shook his head. “Persistence, stubbornness, and one hell of a miracle. I will tell you the story soon, my love, but I am so very tired. It has been a long, hard road getting back to you.”
She covered his lips with a lingering kiss, which he leaned into. “Shhh, love,” she whispered as she skimmed his face with her fingers, still not believing he was beside her. “Go to sleep. I will watch over you.”
“After all these years I am finally home,’ he murmured sleepily as he relaxed against her, his sigh long and one of utter exhaustion.
Moving as close as she dared without jostling him, she eased her beautiful son higher against her heart, then just as carefully eased her arm under Varek’s head. With her brow resting against his and her lips on her son’s head, she watched every breath Varek took, knowing that as long as she lived, she would never let him out of her sight again.
Miracle, indeed, she wondered in awe as she breathed deep of the scent of her newly born son. Her lips nuzzled the precious down of gold, wondering if he would be the image of his father just as Tina was. God, she hoped so! She nudged a finger into his tiny fist and shuddered as it opened and then latched on with surprising strength.
Tears shimmering in her eyes, she looked at Varek, and slowly her gaze caressed every feature, every shadow, every crease of pain.
“I love you.” Her vow was barely a sigh between them, yet though his body was deeply immersed in its healing slumber, his lips turned up in a smile as gentle as the thrum of his heart against their son.
Their two halves had been reunited at last, and they were complete.
Eternity opened before her like a shining beacon, and she knew that whatever was to come it could never be as perfect as it was at this very moment.
Epilogue
London
One year later
As a group, Christina, Varek and Sergei collapsed in chairs and chaises closest to the fire. Christina immediately kicked off her slippers and tucked her feet under her as she leaned back against Varek’s chest and sighed as his arms enfolded her.
“I could fall asleep right here,” she murmured sleepily.
Both men stared down fondly at her, both as well equally exhausted. This was Christina’s first ball since they arrived in London almost a year ago and set up residence.
Though Christina had run herself ragged in the preparations, she had keep Sergei jumping with endless frenzied requests that would invariably turn into demands, and then out right blackmail. Varek was spared most of the drama, but only because, even after all these months, both Sergei and Christina never failed to notice how quickly he could still tire after his close brush with death. He appeared in superb condition, but his lungs were still prone to nagging infections which drove both men to drink occasionally as Christina would be on the warpath of hounding him to within an inch of his life. As Varek would say dryly, if he allowed the slightest cough she latched onto his arse like an attacking bulldog and would not let him alone. And, of course, that meant hounding Sergei to latch onto the other cheek for added precaution. Both men were sick of it.
However, it seemed Christina had found a new calling in her busy life.
Finding Sergei a wife, which he heartily resented. Varek , however, was more than amenable to setting his little bulldog onto his best friend’s arse for a while.
After a few moments of restful quiet, Christina gave a huge yawn and then asked,
“Well, what did you think of them?”
Sergei and Varek cracked open an eye and looked at each other, not sure who she was speaking to.
Christina’s eyes were still closed as she remained slumped against her husband.
“Sergei?’
Shit, he sighed as he dropped his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He remained stubbornly silent.
Of course, nothing as simple as playing deaf would work with Christina. She lifted her head and stared with equal stubbornness at him. “I thought Lady Helen was particularly lovely tonight.”
“She is too short,” he mumbled.
There was a long pause. “What of Miss Carstairs?”
“Too shy.”
He heard Christina sit up. From the corner of his eye he knew she was glaring at him and he could literally feel her ire heating the space between them.
“And Mrs. Ponsonby?” she asked with a quiet silkiness that had Varek’s eyes popping open and both men’s attention turned to her in dread.
Realizing he needed to nip this in the bud right now, or suffer the consequences for weeks to come, Sergei also sat up, and turned to face her. Hands on knees he leaned forward a bit and said quite succinctly, “She is too beautiful.” And he returned her glare with one equally ferocious.
“Oh!” Christina bounded to her feet. Hands on hips she practically shouted at him, “That is the most ridiculous…” the rest of her words were smothered by Varek’s hand as he surged up and wrapping an arm about her middle, his other hand was securely muzzling his petit wife’s tirade. But that didn’t stop her for she continued her muffled rail as her eyes shot venom at Sergei over her husband’s hand. Feeling brave, as Varek’s hold looked quite secure, Sergei also stood and watched Christina’s melodrama with a cocked head.
Forcing the encroaching grin from his face he cupped his ear and said loudly, “What is that, Christina? I can’t hear you.”
She froze for a moment and then hellfire erupted in her narrow-eyed glare. At the same time she came to spitting life, struggling in her husband’s firm embrace. Now Sergei did grin at her, as she sputtered behind Varek’s hand, her little fists punching out at him. Laughing, Sergei flung his arms out wide as he shook his head, taunting her, “Still can’t hear you.”
Varek’s amused voice rumbled from behind her, “Don’t bait her, Serge, or I will let her loose.”
This mild threat shut Sergei up and he immediately sat down. Varek grinned at him over her head. “I think we shall retire for the night,” which upon he lifted her up and turned toward the door. Christina’s feet flailed out and apparently made a solid contact for Varek grunted in pai
n. Immediately, she went limp in his arms and her gaze went from spitting fury focused on Sergei to contrite distress. She twisted in his arms in order to look up at him. Then a muffled plea could be heard.
“Promise to behave,” Varek asked softly against her ear. Still looking up at him, she gave an immediate and heartfelt nod. Gently, he set her on her feet. She turned and threw her arms around his neck. “I am sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Varek’s laughing eyes turned to Sergei who had been watching this little turnabout with complete disgust. “Yes, well, now I shall have to limp to bed.” Laughter was barely leashed in Varek’s quiet comment. Christina stepped away and looked down at his legs. “Where did I kick you?”
Varek turned them away and started to walk them to the stairs, but not before he claimed a gentle kiss.
Sergei was amused to see Varek place his wife’s dainty hand down in the proximity of his crotch. “I do feel a certain ache here.”
Christina’s response was a low chuckle and a lower murmur in her husband’s ear to which he responded with the utmost seriousness, “Yes, I do believe the doctor would subscribe to that treatment.”
Together they climbed the stairs arm and arm, Christina’s head resting on Varek’s arm.
After they had disappeared, Sergei looked about him at the room and sighed. Perhaps it was time for a trip to… hell any place would do as long as it was away from Christina’s ruthless machinations. Otherwise he might end up married just to shut her up.
On the other hand, he did need a wife…
With a sigh his head dropped back and he stared up at the ceiling. If only he could find what Christina and Varek had. Then he would embrace the wedded state most thoroughly.
The only question was; is that even possible? The love that Varek and Christina shared was a rare thing.
With a defeated sigh, Sergei left to wander the streets of London, too depressed to go to his lonely home.
Perhaps Christina was right. It was time.
He always hated to admit to himself when Christina was right.