Steel's Edge (44 page)

She was alive. She was healthy, and she had survived. That was all that mattered. “When can I take her home?”

Lady Augustine turned to him. “That may not be a good idea. I don't think you understand. Charlotte will need to be carried to the bathroom. She will need to be bathed. She will need to be spoon-fed and will be bedridden for weeks until she is able to begin rehabilitation, which will likely take months. Do you have any children? You will have to take care of her as if she were a child. Think of what it will do to any romantic feelings you may have for her. You will never be able to see her in the same light again. Walk away, Richard. Leave her here with us. This is what we do. We care for the sick, and we're very good at it.”

“Did she say she wanted me to take her home?”

“She did.”

“Then I'll take her home.”

The older woman stared at him. “You must know that I won't consent to your marriage.”

“I don't care,” Richard told her. “I don't care about your family, your title, or your bloodline. I'll be with her in any way she will have me.”

He turned and marched back the way they had come. He pounded his way through the hallway and walked through the doors. Charlotte was awake. She lay in bed, her hair fanning across the pillows like a golden veil, her silver eyes alert and aware. He knelt by the bed.

“I can't hold you,” she told him.

He kissed her lips gently. “I don't care.”

“I care. You don't have to, if it's too much . . .”

He heard tears in her voice.

“I won't leave you,” he told her. “I will never leave you. We'll do this together. Come home with me. Please.”

He hugged her to him. “Say yes, Charlotte.”

“Yes,” she told him.

EPILOGUE

THREE MONTHS LATER

THE
evening sky had just begun to darken. Strings of colorful, round lanterns hung from the trees, glowing gently with yellow, green, blue, and red. Tiny golden fireflies floated in the air. The September air was warm and pleasant. Charlotte rocked back slightly in her chair. Before her a vast lake spread, calm and shiny like the surface of a coin. If she leaned forward, she would just be able to make out Kaldar and Audrey's house across the water to the left.

The lake splashed against the wooden pier. Jack lay on his back on the boards, looking at the sky, his hands behind his head. George skipped a small pebble across the pond next to him. Sophie sat on the edge, her feet in the water. Two weeks after the house was built, she asked if she could come and stay with them for a few days. She never left.

Charlotte smiled. She would've loved to get up off her chair, walk down the winding path from the deck, and soak her feet in the green water too, but she knew her limits. She would have to wait.

In an hour or so, Richard would get a phaeton, and they would go over to Declan and Rose's house. The Lord and Lady Camarine were expecting. George and Jack would become uncles. Now there was an interesting thought.

At her feet, Callis raised his shaggy black head. The wolfripper dog let out one quiet woof. Someone was coming.

Light, unhurried steps made her turn. Lady Augustine walked up the porch.

They hadn't spoken to each other for a quarter of the year. Charlotte gripped her cane, planted her feet down, and stood. “Hello, Mother.”

Lady Augustine's eyebrows crept up. “You're standing.”

Charlotte took a step forward. “And walking. With much difficulty.” She had the best caretakers in the world, but her progress was still painfully slow.

They looked at each other. Her legs trembled, and Charlotte lowered herself back into her chair.

Lady Augustine sat next to her. “That is an enormous dog.”

“Yes. He used to be a slaver dog, but he mellowed out.” Charlotte rubbed Callis's shaggy side with her toes. “Are you done being angry?”

“You almost threw away your life. I don't think I'll ever stop being angry.” Lady Augustine sighed.

“Then why did you come?”

“Because even though I was never very familiar with the Camarines, I received an invitation to celebrate the pregnancy, and the rules of propriety dictate that I attend.”

Charlotte smiled. “Richard.”

“I would suppose so. It was quite elegantly done. I will admit that while he's not of noble birth, he does understand our mind-set.”

“And exploits it, quite ruthlessly.”

“I see he built you a house.” Lady Augustine glanced at the house behind them. “By what means did he pay for it?”

“I do believe it's extremely crass for you to inquire.” Charlotte couldn't help but grin.

“I'm inquiring not as Lady al Ran, but as your adoptive mother. Mothers are permitted to be crass.”

“His family built it. I offered to pay for it, but he declined. They got together and raised it in about two weeks. I watched it go up. It was fascinating. Did you know that Lord Sandine is a changeling?”

“I heard something about it, but I thought it was simply a rumor. What kind?”

“A wolf. I saw three people struggling with a beam, and he took it away from them and carried it by himself.”

“Lord Sandine helped build your house?”

Charlotte nodded. “He's married to Richard's cousin.”

“Would you like to?”

“To what?”

“To marry.” Lady Augustine pronounced the word with a crisp exactness.

Charlotte shrugged. “Perhaps. I have a man who loves me. I have a daughter, who lives with us in this great house he built for us. We're happy. Marriage is only a formality. You should meet your granddaughter, Mother. She is beautiful, and she needs you and me both.”

Lady Augustine glanced toward the pier. Her face took on an odd expression, as if she were staring over a great distance. “Dear gods,” she whispered. “She's so damaged, darling.”

“She is. She doesn't trust easily, but she loves me and I love her. We can help her together.”

Richard walked up on the porch. “My lady, Charlotte. The phaeton is ready. Would you care to accompany us, Lady al Ran?”

“I believe I would.” The Lady rose. “But first I'm going down to the pier to meet Sophie. Excuse me.”

“Good luck!” Charlotte said after her. She stood up. Richard hugged her, supporting most of her weight as she leaned against his strong body.

“Mad?” he asked.

“No. I meant to write her, but my penmanship is still horrid. It looks like chicken scratches in the dirt.”

“I love you,” he told her.

She kissed him. The touch of his lips woke a lingering need inside her. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “Do you think you could show me tonight how much you love me?”

He laughed quietly, a satisfied male chuckle. “I think that could be arranged.”

She leaned her head against his chest. They stood together, wrapped in each other's warmth. Tomorrow would be a new day, new worries, new problems, new concerns. But tonight was peaceful and sweet.

“Can we do this again tomorrow?” she murmured. “Can you and I come out here and sit on the deck, drink wine, and watch the water?”

“It's a date.” He kissed her.

She smiled.

*   *   *

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ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Ilona Andrews
is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team. Ilona is a native-born Russian, and Andrew is a former communications sergeant in the U.S. Army. Contrary to popular belief, Andrew was never an intelligence officer with a license to kill, and Ilona was never the mysterious Russian spy who seduced him. They met in college, in English Composition 101, where Ilona got a better grade. (Andrew is still sore about that.) Together, Andrew and Ilona are the coauthors of the
New York Times
bestselling Kate Daniels urban fantasy series and the romantic urban fantasy novels of the Edge. They currently reside in Austin, Texas, with their two children and numerous pets. For sample chapters, news, and more, visit www.ilona-andrews.com.

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