“Why, Jack, dear,” Myrtle said, fluttering a single hand as she tilted her champagne glass to her lips with the other. “I did tell you we had an elven ancestor.”
Jack stared at his aunt, his jaw working silently.
“’Tis what the Sitheen are,” Tarrys added quietly. “What all of you are. The descendants of a long-ago union between an Esri and a human.”
“Like hell,” Harrison swore.
Larsen’s eyes widened with disbelief…and wonder.
“’Tis what makes you immune to the Esri’s tricks and makes you a danger to them. ’Tis why you have gifts. Sitheen oft possess at least one of the gifts of their Esri ancestor.”
Jack’s gaze swung to Larsen, the weight of a thousand questions heavy in his eyes.
“So that’s why the elf was so determined to kill anyone he couldn’t enchant,” Charlie murmured.
“Aye. Only you could stop him.” She smiled, her cheeks tinting pink as she gazed at Charlie. “And you did.”
“Damn,” Charlie said, delight rippling through his voice. “I’ve got elf blood.”
Harrison glowered at his brother, a sound of disgust rumbling in his throat.
“I’m not sure why you didn’t believe me, nephew,” Myrtle said, then giggled and lifted her empty champagne glass.
Jack gave Larsen a bemused look and turned to his aunt. “Didn’t you also say something about witches and Gypsies?”
Myrtle waved her hand. “Oh, I may have exaggerated a little.” She burst into a fit of giggles, drawing laughter from all but Harrison.
The full realization hit Larsen in a blinding moment of understanding. “My visions,” she breathed. “They were always of relatives or people the elf couldn’t enchant. They were all people with Ersi blood.”
Jack laid his hand on her shoulder as she met his gaze in a shower of wonder and relief. “And the voices in my head. Never the curses we believed, just true faerie gifts.”
“Anyone for more champagne?” Charlie called.
Jack slid his hand off her shoulder and held it out to her, palm up. “Come with me?”
His eyes burned with an intensity she’d come to know. He wanted sex. Something contracted painfully inside her. And she wanted so much more.
“No, Jack. I…”
“We need to talk.”
“Just talk?”
“I promise.”
Larsen’s heart sank. Suddenly she wished he had been looking for a quick roll in the sheets because a talk could only mean one thing. He wanted a clean break. And he wanted it now.
With a sigh, she nodded and hopped off the stool.
“We’ll be back in a little while,” Jack told the others, then ushered her out the front door.
“Where are we going?” Larsen asked as they walked down the empty corridor.
“The roof.”
They took the elevator to the top floor, then climbed the single flight of stairs to the door that led to the night sky. Together they walked to the railing that rimmed the building and looked out over the nation’s capital, the lights of the city shining in a bright display.
Jack didn’t touch her as they stood there, which was unlike him. With a heaviness, she remembered that his touch had never been the result of natural affection. He’d only ever touched her for the relief she provided him.
Jack rested his forearms on the rail, his face turned to the D.C. skyline. “What are you going to do now?” he asked her.
The last flicker of hope that she’d meant more to him than a cure to his voices sputtered and died in her chest. “I need to get back to work. And to try to get my houseboat repaired so I can live there again.”
“I want you to lay low for a couple more days until that APB on us is canceled.” He looked up at the stars, then tilted his face toward her. “I was wondering if…do you think…?”
Oddly, he sounded nervous.
“What, Jack?”
“I’d like to see you again. Maybe we could go out on an actual date.” His tone was almost…hopeful.
Her pulse kicked up and she turned to him. “Why?”
He dipped his head, for a moment looking like a man with the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. Slowly he raised his face and met her gaze. “I’m not going to push you, Larsen. If you’d rather end it here, we’ll do that. But I’d like to spend more time with you.” His mouth kicked up in a regretful smile. “I owe you. I used you.”
A pity date.
“Jack…don’t. I understand why you used me. If I’d had that riot in my head, I’d have touched you every chance I got, too.” She’d have touched him anyway, but that was because her feelings for him had sparked and grown and turned to love. “I get it that you never really had feelings for me. It’s okay. But I don’t…”
His hands gripped her shoulders and he turned her to face him in the moonlit dark. “I never said I didn’t have feelings for you.”
“You’re offering me a pity date.”
“A pity…” He made a strangled sound that was half laughter, half groan. “Larsen…it’s not a pity date. It’s a desperate attempt to try to charm you, to try to win your affection. To try to get you to care for me even a fraction of the way I care for you.”
Larsen gaped at him. “What are you saying?”
His expression turned pained, then softened into the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.
“I love you, Larsen Vale. I know that probably scares the hell out of you, which is why I was trying to take it slowly, but dammit, I need you.” He squeezed her shoulders, telegraphing the emotion that had him suddenly as tense as a bow string. “Give me a chance. Please.”
Larsen stared into his worried eyes as joy flooded her heart and tears blurred her vision. She reached for him, cupping his strong, prickly jaw with her hands. “You don’t need any chances with me. I already love you, Jack Hallihan.”
He didn’t move. Only the steadily increasing pressure on her shoulders told her he’d heard her at all.
“Are you sure?”
A tear-filled laugh escaped her throat. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Marry me?”
“Oh, Jack. If you’re sure, then yes. A thousand times yes.” Then he pulled her hard against him and kissed her with so much passion, so much love, the tears rolled down her cheeks.
He knew everything about her. Everything. And he loved her anyway.
At last, her heart and spirit soared free.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-0034-4
THE DARK GATE
Copyright © 2007 by Pamela Poulsen
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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