Marcus frowned. “Mrs. Bess. I’ll go find her.” He ran up the steps, pausing at the top. “You stay here.”
As if Liam would budge from the spot.
“Miss Fairfax,” he called through the door, “Cecilia. Are you unharmed?”
“Mostly, though I’m a bit chilled.” Her voice was weaker than he liked.
“Your brother has gone to find the keys. We’ll have you out of there in a thrice.”
“Liam?” There was a desperate ring to her words. “Please keep talking to me.”
“What should I say?”
“Anything. I just—I need to hear the sound of someone’s voice. Your voice.”
He drew in a deep breath and then, before he could persuade himself otherwise, said the words.
“Miss Fairfax, will you marry me?”
Silence, underscored by the heavy beating of his heart.
“Excuse me? Are you jesting?”
“Never. I know the situation is hardly…” Damnation. What was he thinking, asking Cecilia to marry him through the thick expanse of a wooden door. He was a coward of the first order. “That is to say—here comes your brother.”
Liam stepped back as Marcus bounded down the stairs, a ring of keys in his hand. Behind him came Lord Fairfax, the Widow Pomfrey, and a cluster of servants, white-haired Mrs. Bess among them.
“Which key is it, Cecy?” Marcus rattled the ring in frustration.
“The smaller iron one,” she called back.
Marcus fitted it into the lock and, after another excruciating second, it turned. He threw open the door to reveal the wan and trembling form of his sister, coarse burlap sacks wrapped around her shoulders and upper body.
Without a word, Liam stepped into the dank interior and swept Cecilia up into his arms. She made no protest, only blinked and turned her face to his chest when they emerged into the light.
“Brandy,” he said, ascending the stairs with her. “And blankets—in the parlor. Is there a closer entrance into the house?”
“Here,” her father said, holding open a door that led into the kitchen.
Liam bore his precious burden to the parlor and sank down before the fire, still holding Cecilia. Shivers ran through her, and bedamned if he was going to let her go.
Unless, of course, she wanted him to. Terrible though the prospect might be.
“Here,” Marcus said, holding out a glass of brandy.
Cecilia lifted her head, her eyes the color of a bruise, and took a tiny sip.
“More,” Liam said. “You must get warm.”
She took a larger drink, then coughed and shuddered as the brandy went down.
“Blankets, milord.” The dark-haired maid hastened to the hearth, her arms full of woven wool.
As if the sight of the maid was a catalyst, Cecilia sat up and gently slid from Liam’s arms. She pulled off the burlap sacking, leaving streaks of grime on her red dress and a smudge on her cheek. Before she could start shivering again, the maid draped a blanket about her shoulders, and another across her lap.
“Thank you,” Cecilia said, glancing about the room. “Thank you all. I’m so glad you found me.”
“How the devil did you get locked in the cellar?” Marcus said.
“Poor Mrs. Bess is wandering in her wits. She didn’t mean to lock me in, but I fear she forgot my presence.” Cecilia shook her head. “I didn’t want to relieve her of her duties.”
“And look at the cost to you, poor dear,” the Widow Pomfrey said.
“She must be retired,” Cecilia’s father said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “Immediately.”
Cecilia bit her lip. “Yes, but I have no one to take her place.”
“As to that…” The widow glanced at Lord Fairfax, a faint blush suffusing her round cheeks. “Please let me assist you. I know a woman from the village who might suit admirably.”
“Excellent,” Cecilia said, meeting the widow’s gaze.
Liam had the impression some small, secret communication known only to women passed between them, for the widow smiled and Cecilia nodded again.
“Lord Tarrick,” Cecilia said, turning to him. “I believe you asked me a question.”
He stiffened, the blood catching in his veins.
“I did.”
“Would you do me the favor of asking it again?”
“Here?” He glanced about the parlor, from Marcus sitting on the carpet beside his sister, to Lord Fairfax and Widow Pomfrey, to the dark-haired maid.
“Yes.” Cecilia’s voice was clear and firm.
Very well. His chest tightened, but he was hers to command. Liam shifted onto his knees and faced her. Taking her hands in his—her fingers still too cold for his liking—he swallowed once, for courage.
“Miss Cecilia Fairfax. Would you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”
The room stilled. Even the flames in the hearth seemed to pause. Liam could scarcely breathe.
Cecilia tipped her head.
Liam wanted to close his eyes, wanted to leap to his feet and rush back to the isolated safety of Tarrick Hall, never to come out again. Instead he forced himself to wait, the signet ring heavy on his finger.
At last, Cecilia smiled, and it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds in a blaze of promise. His heart gave a tremendous thump, then settled into a new, stronger rhythm, borne by a sense of hope beyond anything he had ever felt.
“Yes, Liam. I will marry you.” She leaned forward and kissed him, gently, on the lips.
The world spun from that point of contact, the moon revolved, the planets danced, all because Cecilia Fairfax had consented to be his bride. Something inside Liam mended—something he had not even known was broken, until recent months.
Marcus let out a whoop and clapped him on the back, the maid cheered, and Lord Fairfax smiled broadly.
“I beg your forgiveness, sir,” Liam said, glancing up to her father. “I ought to have asked you first, but—”
“I understand,” Cecilia’s father said. “Sometimes the heart precedes the head in such matters. You have my blessing.”
Liam slipped the gold signet of the Earls of Tarrick from his finger and handed it to Cecilia. The sapphire shone in her cupped hand.
“This is all I have to give you,” he said. “My name, my title. My heart. Everything I am and everything I have is yours, Cecilia Fairfax.”
“It is more than enough, Liam.” Tears shone in her eyes, brighter than the sapphire in his ring. “More than I had ever hoped for.”
“Happy Christmas, my countess,” he said.
Something half-seen at the edge of his vision made him glance to the doorway. The transparent figure of Lizzy stood there, smiling. As he watched, she faded away, leaving only mortal joy to fill the parlor.
Which was, indeed, enough.
The End
About Anthea Lawson
Anthea Lawson, called "a new star of Historical Romance" by Booklist, has won readers with her combination of spicy love scenes and elegant prose. Her first novel, PASSIONATE, was a Best First Book finalist in the prestigious Romance Writers of America RITA awards.
She lives in the Pacific NW where, in addition to writing, she drinks strong tea, plays the fiddle, and spends time with her small-but-good family.
Anthea also writes award-winning YA Urban Fantasy under the pen name Anthea Sharp. Find out how high-tech computer gaming intersects with the Realm of Faerie at http://antheasharp.com/
Rocky by Bianca D’Arc
About Rocky
Tales of the Were
In the season of the Winter Solstice, a woman on the run must seek the one man who can protect her and her unborn children. Pregnant with twins, she tracks him to a cabin in the wilderness where, hopefully, her enemies will not find her or the precious, magical babies she is desperate to protect.
Chapter 1
All Hallows Eve
Maggie pulled into the gravel driveway, uncertain of her welcome. The sad truth was she had nowhere else
to turn. The pains were getting sharper and closer together. She had to find him soon. After a few false leads, this had to be his place. It just had to be.
She took a deep breath, pulling the car to a stop in front of a very large, rustic log cabin in the middle of the woods. Resting her forehead against the steering wheel as she was wracked by another pain, she tried not to scream.
“Are you all right?”
The deep voice was just as she remembered it. Finally, she had found him. Turning to look out the open driver’s side window, she offered him a shaky smile as the pain began to subside.
“Thank heaven I found you. God, Rocky. It’s good to see you.”
Rocco Garibaldi was stunned. The last person he’d expected to see pull up in his front drive was Maggie Hobson. She was as beautiful as ever, even with deep circles under her gorgeous eyes. She’d gained a bit of weight too, if he wasn’t mistaken, and it looked good on her.
“Maggie? What in the world—”
He broke off as her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel and a keening cry ripped from between her compressed lips. In a flash, he had her car door open and then stopped, struck speechless by her rounded, pulsating midsection. Maggie was heavily pregnant, and from all appearances was in the throes of labor.
“I need your help,” she panted between puffing breaths.
“No kidding.” He caught her when she tried to get out of the tall SUV on her own. Lifting her in his arms, he wasted no time. He took her into his house, went directly to his bedroom and placed her on the bed. “Stars, Maggie! Where’s Tony? Why aren’t you with him for this?”
“Tony’s…” Her beautiful eyes filled with pain and she seemed unable to speak the next, final words. “He’s dead, Rock.”
Agony settled in Rocky’s chest as he felt the truth of her words echo through his soul. His grief was reflected in her sad eyes. He’d lost a brother and he hadn’t even known it.
“When? How?”
“About eight months ago. He saw it coming. He had time to warn me about—” A new labor pain struck and Rocky reached for her hand, letting her hold on to him. He hated seeing her in such agony.
“You need help,” he said as the pain eased. “Let me call Allie.”
Maggie started to get up as he turned toward the phone on the small table beside the bed.
“I knew I shouldn’t have come, but Tony made me promise to find you before I gave birth. I have nowhere else to turn.”
Rocky soothed her, pushing her back down on the bed as he snagged the cord of the phone and pulled it toward him. “You’re not going anywhere until that baby is born.”
“Babies. Plural.” She panted. “Twins.”
“Sweet Mother in Heaven,” he whispered. “Maggie, did Tony tell you about us? About what we are?”
She nodded once, her expression tinged with fear. “The week before he died, he showed me…” She gripped his hand as another contraction hit. “He warned me the birth wouldn’t be easy, and that I couldn’t go to a regular hospital. Damn, I’d give anything for an epidural right now!”
Rocky dialed the phone with one hand while she clenched the other tightly. He was never more relieved than when the call was answered on the other end.
“Rafe, I need help.”
Maggie loved the rumble of Rocky’s voice. It reassured her in so many ways. Many girlhood hours had been spent dreaming about this man. She found it strange that fate would send her to his home in the middle of the woods, so many years later, about to give birth to his best friend’s babies.
Make that cubs. She was about to birth grizzly shifters. If not for the fact she’d seen Tony shapeshift right before her eyes, she would never have believed it. Rocky ended the call as she watched him.
“Tony said…” She waited to catch her breath, needing something to focus on other than the pain. “He said…you’re a grizzly too.”
Rocky nodded solemnly. “I am.”
“This is all so crazy.” She looked away, remembering. “Tony came home one day and told me. I almost laughed in his face—until he shifted to prove his point. I was never so frightened in my whole life.” She turned back to search his expression. “He only told me because he foresaw his own death, Rock. Something called Venifucus was on his trail, he said, and made me promise to tell you as soon as I found you.”
“Venifucus? Are you certain?” His words were a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.
“He was sure of it, and told me how to retrieve this after he was gone.” She tugged on the gold chain around her neck, pulling it out from under her clothing and showing it to Rocky. The pendant was a faintly glowing blood red stone wrapped in gold wire. It was a bear totem that shone brighter than any gem. With shaking hands, she held it up so Rocky could see it.
His expression hardened and a single tear trailed down his face.
“He really is dead.”
She nodded, feeling his pain as her own. “I burned his body after he died, as he instructed, then sifted through the ashes for this. He called it—”
“A heartstone.” Rocky’s expression was filled with an odd mix of wonder and sorrow. “If anyone could do it, Tony would have that kind of magic. But why? How did he die?”
Another contraction halted her explanation for a few moments, and he held her hand throughout. The pulsing heartstone seemed to comfort her, as it had all along her ragtag journey over half the continent.
“He was ambushed. He barely made it home before collapsing. He was beyond help by that point. It only took him moments to breathe his last, but he did it on his home territory, free and safe. He told me the magical protections he’d put on our land would fade after he died, but I would have time to fulfill his last wishes. I followed his instructions and lit out of there just hours later. I’ve been crisscrossing the country ever since, but I knew when my labor started, I’d have to stop running. I came to you, like I promised Tony I would. My babies will be too vulnerable while I’m recovering—if I survive their birth—and you’re the only person on earth I trust to keep them safe.” She clutched at his hand. “I don’t care what happens to me. Just promise you’ll take care of my babies.”
Rocky surprised her by taking her in his arms and burying his face in her hair as she burrowed into his neck. It felt so good to be surrounded by his warmth, his strength. It had been so long since she’d been able to lean on someone, even for just a moment.
“I’ll keep you safe. You’re not going anywhere, Maggie. I’ll watch over you all. I promise. Tony knew I would. It’s why he sent you to me. But why did you wait so long? You should’ve come to me straight away.”
“I couldn’t.” Tears leaked from her eyes and seeped into his flannel shirt. He was so strong and she’d felt so weak for so long. It was such a relief to have someone to share her fears with. “I didn’t want to lead them to you. I’d just lost Tony and we hadn’t heard from you in a long time. I didn’t want to presume…”
“You should have, sweetheart. You had to know I’d never turn you away in a million years.”
She sniffled as he pulled back to place a kiss on the crown of her head. The gesture touched her deeply—so deeply—when she hadn’t dared hope he would welcome her. She’d spent the last eight months conflicted. She’d lost her husband, which was traumatic enough, but Tony had known how she’d always felt about Rocky. Tony had been a shaman. He’d known things, and he’d sent her straight to the only man who had ever been a rival for her affections.
But Rocky had left so long ago. Right after the wedding, he had announced his move and she hadn’t seen him since. For all she knew, he was married with children of his own now, though judging by the sparseness of his house, he lived alone. The thought brought a lightness to her heart. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for them. Perhaps Tony had been right to send her here. Perhaps she did have that chance for happiness again—as Tony had promised—once this situation with the Venifucus was straightened out. If it could be straightened out.
&nb
sp; Another pain gripped her and she clung to Rocky, digging her fingers into his thick muscles, but he didn’t complain. He just held her, speaking soothing words in that rumbly voice and stroking her back with one hand while his other hand moved down to cover the protrusion of her stomach. His touch felt good. When his fingers settled over the beach ball of her abdomen, it was as if the squirming babies within sensed his presence and immediately quieted.
Tony had warned her how difficult it could be for bear shifter cubs to be born. She was scared and she knew her fear was communicating itself to her babies. As she grew more agitated, so did they. It had been like that throughout her entire pregnancy. She tried to be calm, but the pains were intense and more than she could handle alone. Rocky’s steady presence was a gift. He calmed her and her babies with just his touch, his voice and his soothing strength.
She didn’t fear much of anything with Rocky’s arms around her. He was her safe harbor in times of trouble and had been since they were kids. When bullies picked on her in grade school, it had been Rocky who had come to her rescue and scared off the other kids with his intimidating brawn, even back then. He’d been such a quiet boy, but she’d daydreamed about him from that moment on. He had been her knight in shining armor, her champion and savior.
Tony, on the other hand, had been her Prince Charming. They’d all grown up together, and by the time the senior prom rolled around, Maggie had despaired of Rocky ever seeing her as a girl instead of a buddy. But Tony had. He’d asked her to the prom and suddenly her eyes had been opened. Here was a man who flattered her and charmed her. Tony had literally swept her off her feet. After that first date, he’d sought her out again and again. Before she knew it, she was head over heels in love with him and agreeing to his proposal of marriage.
The only doubts had crept in when they’d broken the news to Rocky. He’d looked pained for one short moment before offering his congratulations. Still, she was in the bloom of young love and very little could dim the light that shone around Tony. He was such a charismatic, powerful presence in her life. She was grateful for his love, even now, after all the turmoil being with him had caused.
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