Thief of Hearts (Elders and Welders Chronicles Book 3) (30 page)

He set the book down on the piano and took a hesitant step toward her. “I remember. Everything.”

She nodded and wiped at her cheeks. For some reason they were wet. Damn it. She refused to believe she was actually crying, after she’d told herself a thousand times she wouldn’t. Someone needed to be the stoic one, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Rowan.

“Two days ago, I held you in my arms for the last time,” he whispered.

Well, she was
definitely
crying now. Only he could bring out the watering pot in her.

“It was ten
years
ago, Rowan,” she said, thumbing her tears away angrily and refusing to meet his eyes.

He took another step closer. “Then you came here, and I didn’t even know who you were,” he continued, anguished. “How did you bear it?”

She winced. She thought of the pain she’d felt a few weeks ago when she’d seen his face again and he’d not known her. It had felt as if her heart had been ripped out and trampled upon all over again.

“That was…unpleasant. I thought…I thought perhaps you were just pretending not to know me. That you had somehow survived the desert and regained your memories. That you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Never,” he breathed, clasping her gloved hands in his own, then inching his fingers up until he touched the bare skin of her wrists.

“I know that now. I knew then, too. I looked into your eyes and knew you didn’t recognize me at all. It was…confusing.” She smiled wryly. “But I was used to being confused by you.”

“Thank you for telling the children. I was afraid you might not want to right away…”

She shook her head vehemently and stepped closer to him so that their bodies almost touched. “We’ve already wasted enough time,” she said.

It was as if he’d been waiting for those words. He sighed in relief and took that final step forward, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tight against him.

“I’ve missed ten years with you,” he murmured.

“I’ve spent ten years missing you,” she said as lightly as she could despite her tears.

His expression grew grave, and he stiffened a little as an unpleasant thought seemed to occur to him. “There has been no one…?” he began.

That he could think of that at such a time was…so very human of him. So very much like a man…and she’d take that any day over a ghost. Or a memory.

She scowled and thumped him on the arm in exasperation anyway. “The love of my life died and left me alone to raise
twins
.
And
a sick sister. Not to mention the fact that I’ve been chased around the world by an immortal war criminal for nearly all of that time.
And
the fact that I’ve never gotten over losing you. When, exactly, would I have had the time or…or the
desire
to find someone else?”

He just grinned down at her. “The love of your life?” he said, rather proudly.

“You were pretty damned memorable,” she mumbled, her face hot with embarrassment after her outburst.

His hands left her back and gently tangled in her hair. He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, then on both cheeks, erasing her tears with his lips. “You are too,” he whispered.

“What?” she asked, a bit distracted by the kisses.

“The love of my life.”

Her heart sang in joy and relief, but she tried—valiantly, in her opinion—to temper it with caution. “You cannot know that. You’ve really only known me for a month, if you think about it,” she reminded him.

“So have you,” he retorted. “Is it so unbelievable that I would come to the same conclusion as you?”

Well. That was hard to argue with. Even so… “
I’ve
had nearly a decade to think about it,” she said, trying to pull away from him.

He caught her by the shoulders and stared down at her earnestly. “I knew it in the desert, and I know it now. Besides, I am four hundred and twenty-two years old. I think I bloody well know my own mind by now.”

“When you put it like that…” she said.

That
was a number that would need some getting used to. But the reality of what Rowan and his fellow Elders actually were was a lot more reassuring than fearing he was some sort of reincarnated Egyptian god. Not that she’d ever really thought
that
, precisely…

Well, maybe she had, considering where she’d first met him, despite his affinity for tea. Anything had seemed possible, really, after she’d seen vampires with her own eyes.

“You hesitate,” he said, looking a bit crestfallen. “But you said yourself that we’ve wasted enough time.”

She laughed weakly. “I did, didn’t I? It’s just…” She broke off and shook her head.

She felt his hand on her chin, urging her to look at him. He gazed down at her with a mix of desperation and fear. “What is it?” he demanded.

His concern caused her to lose the last of her control. She felt the tears fall in earnest down her cheeks. “It’s just too good to be true,” she said. “I can’t believe it’s real.
You’re
real.”

He looked distraught by her words and once more wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.

“I’m real, Hex. So real, and I’m furious at every silly twist of fate that has kept us apart. But never again. I won’t let you go now. I’ll never let you go again,” he said fiercely.

She buried her face in his fine silk waistcoat and sobbed. Damn him for turning her into a maudlin girl.

“Hex, say you believe in me. I must hear you say it,” he murmured into her hair.

“I believe in you. I love you, but you will leave me…”

“Never,” he breathed. “Never again. All of time and space couldn’t keep us apart. How could you think I’d ever leave you now?”

She gazed up at him, and he looked very weary and very lovely in that moment. And so very, very real. She’d never doubt it again. He returned her gaze with a ghost of a smile trembling around the edges of his mouth…and love in his eyes. No one but Rowan had ever looked at her like that.

A blossom of hope she’d still not let herself fully embrace began to slowly bloom inside of her. She’d told herself that it would be enough to have him back, for their children to have a father. She’d not truly let herself hope for more. She’d not let herself assume that things could go back to where they’d been ten years ago, not after meeting him as the sophisticated Lord Llewellyn.

But this man—
this
was the man she loved, penniless amnesiac and elegant earl combined. And
he loved her back
, even with all of his countless memories restored to him.

And speaking of which…

“I don’t want us to have just memories,” she said against his lips. “It’s not enough anymore. I want a future with you. And a present. I want it all. I never thought I’d get that with you, even back in Egypt. I can’t help it if I think it’s too good to be true. Because it is. I feel as if I’m in a dream.”

In a dream, and bewildered with happiness.

“Then I hope we never wake up,” he said, and he kissed her, soft and infinitely sweet. “You never let me say it before, in the desert,” he murmured against her lips when the kiss ended, leaning his forehead against her own.

She smiled. Such a sentimental man. “Then say it now.”

“I love you, Hex,” he whispered.

“I know,” she whispered back. “I know.” And when she kissed him again, it was as if all the years that had separated them fell away.

The End

Margaret Foxe is a professional musician from Tennessee. She has lived in several countries and travelled from Costa Rica to Cairo. Her crowning transcontinental glory was ascending Jebel Toubkal in the High Atlas Mountains with her best friend, a mule, a Berber guide named Omar, a bota bag, and lots and lots of Orange Fanta. She recently completed her master's degree in piano performance in between writing steampunk mash-ups. She also writes historical romance under the penname Maggie Fenton.

She hopes to one day circumnavigate the world by dirigible.

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