by Marina Myles
“I have no family left,” Isabella said. She sat up and gazed into his fathomless eyes.
Draven stroked her cheek. “You have me.”
Her stomach dropped. Was he going to utter the words she desperately wanted to hear?
“Now that my curse has been severed,” he said, “we can have as many children as we wish.”
Warm tears spilled down Isabella’s cheeks. She nodded.
As a broad grin stretched across Draven’s face, he dipped forward to catch her mouth with a kiss. Isabella surged against him and she realized that all the barriers between them had been dissolved.
Still smiling, Draven took her hand and led her to where Marga Yavidovich was waiting. The Gypsy woman placed a gnarled hand on his arm. “May you two live in peace.”
“Thank you, Marga, for showing me the way,” Draven said.
The Gypsy gave him a caring nod and disappeared into her wagon again.
He encircled an arm around Isabella’s waist and urged her closer. “You make me the happiest man on Earth.”
“And I am the happiest woman,” she said through a grin. “Perhaps you and I can enjoy a proper honeymoon now.”
“Don’t you remember?” he teased her softly before pulling her into a kiss. “‘Proper’ is a formality I threw out the window long ago.”
Epilogue
A satisfying chain of events took place in the months that followed Morton Farrington’s death.
With the staggering fortune Cyril Winthrop had left his son, Draven promised to build the embankments Dunwich was so desperately in need of. He also lavished Thorncliff Towers with renovations while officially setting his shipbuilding business into motion at the same time.
Draven and Isabella bought another house close to Helena’s posh London mansion. Rogers, who claimed he was too old to tend to Draven anymore, opted not to go with them. Because Draven continued to have a soft spot for the elderly man, he presented Rogers with a hefty compensation for his faithful service—and for saving his life. Ironically, Rogers and the long-widowed Mrs. Tidwell married a few weeks after Draven and Isabella moved to London. After all, they had been having a torrid affair for years.
Isabella, who still mourned the loss of Gwyneth, had a statue erected in the garden of Thorncliff Towers in the abigail’s likeness. The household staff was grateful for the commemoration as it truly captured Gwyneth’s charm and resilience.
Because Draven had passionately planned and painstakingly implemented his new business, it was in fine enough shape for him to whisk Isabella away for an exotic trip cum delayed honeymoon.
Before she and Draven left on the exclusive ocean liner they had booked passage on, Isabella had searched for the Egyptian amulet without success. She was downhearted at losing it, but she agreed to Simon Collingsworth’s request that she add Amenhotep’s bracelet to the Egyptian exhibit at the British Museum. She figured that her father would like to have seen at least one of his discoveries on display.
Subsequently, the remains of Sir Harris Farrington were buried next to Isabella’s mother in London’s Highgate Cemetery. The burial brought with it a much-needed sense of closure for Isabella.
On a wondrously warm April day, the S.S. Royal Legacy slipped through the glassy, languid waters off the coast of Cyprus. Enjoying the eighth week of her honeymoon, Isabella sat sprawled in the bed she and Draven left on rare occasions. She shifted her weight unconsciously with the rhythm of the elegant vessel and marveled that she hadn’t left her husband’s side during their trip abroad.
Draven slept beside her. She gently mussed his hair and admired the expanse of his shoulders as he lay on his abdomen with his elbows jutted out. Smiling, she raised that same hand in order to gaze upon her filigree wedding band with new meaning.
Draven stirred. Stretching, he turned on his back. His stomach gave a hungry gurgle. “Time for supper, darling.”
Isabella scrunched up her nose in refusal, a habit her husband apparently found charming. “I’m not hungry.”
He slid closer to her and plopped his head on her chest. He seductively raised his thick eyebrows up and down. “Oh, but I am.”
“You’re always hungry for that,” she giggled.
“You’re absolutely right.”
Urging her head forward with one hand, he caressed her lips with a kiss. She pulled away with a sigh and studied her handsome husband. “Actually, I’m feeling a bit ill lately.”
“Seasick?”
She shook her head as she trailed the masculine lines of his face. “I’ll be fine, but I’m anxious to return home. And you? How do you think your shipbuilders are getting along without you?”
“I hope they aren’t missing too many days of work while I’m gone,” he quipped. Reaching up, he slipped a finger through one of her auburn curls. “I, for one, am dreading going back to Thorncliff Towers. I know we agreed to divide our time between the bloody estate and our London house, but I feel as if bad memories await us on the coast.”
She smiled tenderly. “It won’t be so bad, you’ll see. Thorncliff Towers is a part of you, Draven. Besides, it’s a place I intend to freshen up with a more feminine style. I have excellent taste, you know.”
“I know. You married me, didn’t you?” His lips spread into a dazzling grin.
She swatted his arm.
“Very well.” He yawned lazily. “Change the damned place as much as you like.”
“I know the very room I’ll start with.” She squared her shoulders excitedly.
He supported his head with his hand. “Which would that be?”
She blushed. “My previous bedchamber. After all, in six months’ time we will need a nursery.”
“A nursery?” His pupils dilated. “We? Us? I mean, you and I are going to have a baby?”
“Yes.”
He sprang up with joy. “This is incredible!”
“It happened the night you sent me away from Thorncliff Towers. When your sheath broke . . .”
He scratched his head. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”
“I wanted to be sure you truly wanted a child,” she said gently.
He leapt to his feet. “Do you feel all right, darling? Would you like an extra pillow?”
She grinned. “I’m very comfortable. I just want you to come here and hold me close.”
Draven did so with zealotry.
The light of a full moon streamed through the window and illuminated their tender lovemaking that night. Afterward, the redeemed nobleman fell asleep with one hand on his wife’s belly. At the same moment, the rosebush he’d planted with his own hands began to blossom in the garden at Thorncliff Towers. It signified the emergence of spring but more than that, it represented the beautiful baby girl he and Isabella had created.
Less than a mile from Thorncliff Towers, deep in the woods by the Gypsy camp, Marga Yavidovich came upon something shining on the ground. Smiling, she picked up the object and carried it to her wagon. After she locked it away, she hid the key in a secret place.
Tousret’s amulet would be safe with her. For the time being.
Author’s Note
I have always been fascinated with fairy tales, delightfully mesmerized by their timelessness and their magic. It seems that whether readers are young or old, they, too, never cease to be amazed by spells that seem unbreakable—and by the power of true love. I know that altering a classic fairy tale is a bold move, and that changing a “Prince Charming” into a tortured werewolf is even bolder, but I believe today’s romance readers are ready for their heroes to be less perfect and more flawed. Somehow it adds to their allure. Besides, turning a prince into a doomed immortal provides a chance for the princess to shine as the unexpected heroine.
If you liked Beauty and the Wolf, I hope you’ll look for Snow White and the Vampire, the next Cursed Princes romance, in December 2013.
About the Author
Although Marina Myles lives under the sunny skies of Arizona, she would reside in a historic m
anor house in foggy England if she had her way. Her love of books began as soon as she read her first fairy tale and eventually led to a degree in English literature. Now, with her loyal Maltese close by, she relishes the hours she gets to escape into worlds filled with fiery—but not easily attained—love affairs. She’s busy being a wife, a mother, and a member of Romance Writers of America, but she is never too busy to hear from her amazing readers. Visit her at www.marinamyles.com.
eKENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2013 by Marina Myles
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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First Electronic Edition: June 2013
ISBN: 978-1-6018-3099-9
First Print Edition: June 2013
ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-210-8
ISBN-10: 1-60183-210-9