The Haunting of Brier Rose (33 page)

Slowly Taylor turned her around to face him. For a wonderfully
long time he kissed her, languishing in the first privacy they had enjoyed
since leaving the hospital. The days since his release had been spent traveling
with Bea and his mother, and then in a short stint at the Wolfe mansion in San
Francisco as the ship was readied for a trip to the Sea of Cortez, where he and
Rose would spend their honeymoon. They had been married only a few hours ago,
standing before a judge in a quiet ceremony, with only Bea and Ruth in
attendance. The quick, quiet wedding disappointed Ruth, but Taylor was
adamantly against turning their nuptials into a social event. Besides, neither
he nor Rose had wanted to put up with the time it would have taken for
elaborate preparations to be made.

He remembered gazing at her before the ceremony and shifting his
vision to check her aura once again. The black spot that had branded her aura
had disappeared, just as Seth had vanished. Yet he still worried about her and
knew he would keep on checking her aura each day in the years to come.

Finally he drew away and reached into the pocket of his shorts.

"It's my turn," he said.

Taylor held up the strange smoky jewel, which glinted in the
light of the sunset.

"Time to get rid of Seth."

Rose linked her arms around Taylor's trim waist. She knew now
that his embrace was a precious gift and one she would never take lightly.
"So you think Seth is trapped inside the emerald?"

"Yeah. That was the power of the emerald all along. It could
imprison Seth Bastyr's aura. I just happened to be in the right place at the
right time to trap him."

"You mean to tell me there's a man inside that rock?"

"Man? No." Taylor shook his head. "Seth Bastyr was
no man."

"What was he, then?"

Taylor gazed down at her. He tilted her chin upward and dropped a
kiss on the tip of her nose. "Let's just say that Seth was a bad dream,
Rose. Just a bad dream."

Then he released her and flung the emerald as hard as he could.
It sailed through the air, flashing in the dying sun, and finally dropped into
the waves, disappearing from sight. Taylor watched it without speaking.

Rose glanced up at him, honoring his grim silence with a silence
of her own. She remained standing at the rail with her arms around Taylor and
her head resting on his chest. She would never tire of his vibrant warmth.

"Well, that's the end of the Bastyrs," he murmured,
stroking her hair.

"Not quite. There's still one left. Me."

"Not anymore." He smiled. "You're a Wolfe
now." He urged her toward the hatch leading to the cabin below. "And
if it's all right with you, Rose, I don't really want to hyphenate our last
name."

"You don't?"

"No. I think Rose Wolfe sounds just fine."

"Rose Wolfe." She laid her head on his shoulder and
smiled at the newness of the name, glowing at the mere concept of being his
wife. "Yes. That sounds absolutely wonderful to me.

She let Taylor guide her to the cabin, which smelled pleasantly
of teak and wood oil. As she flowed into the room, Edgar hopped onto her
shoulder. Taylor took exception to the raven's company.

"Uh-uh," he said, shooing Edgar away. "Three's a
crowd."

"Taylor—"

"I'm not sharing you with anyone tonight," Taylor
retorted, running his hand over her rear. "Not even Edgar."

Cawing in protest, Edgar flapped down the hallway. Taylor shut
the door and raised his black eyebrows. Rose felt a thrill course through her.
She and Taylor had not made love since that first time, more from circumstance
than choice. And now that the time had come to join together as man and wife,
she felt a thrill of anticipation laced with apprehension. Rose backed up until
her legs bumped into the bunk behind her.

Taylor grinned and took off his shirt.

"It's warm down here," he said.

"Oh?"

"I could use a cool drink. How about you?"

"Yes." She nodded, anxious to prolong the time until
she had to face the moment of truth. "A cool drink sounds great."

Taylor strode to the side of the bed and pulled a bottle of
champagne from a bucket of ice. She hadn't even seen it sitting there.

"Nervous?" he asked, handing her a tulip glass full of
bubbling champagne.

"No." She sipped the drink and quickly broke eye contact.

"Liar."

She glanced up at his handsome face. He was smiling at her, and
his black eyes sparkled with warmth.

"I never thought we'd make it, Rose," he said,
sobering. "I never thought we'd live to see this day."

"You almost didn't."

"So I've heard."

"And I've never thanked you, Taylor, for saving my
life."

"It was my pleasure." He cupped her cheek in his hand
and looked so deeply into her eyes that she melted all the way to her toes.
"I'd go to hell and back for you."

"You already have." She touched his lips with her fingertip.
"What can I do to ever repay you?"

"As to that—" Taylor tilted his head and smiled
down at her, his black eyes smoldering with love as he drew her against him
"—I've got a few ideas, Brier Rose."

THE HAUNTING OF BRIER ROSE Copyright 1993 by Patricia
Simpson

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 permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-0-9840412-0-6

All the characters in this book have no existence
outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names.
They are not even distantly
inspired by any individual known or unknown
to the author, and all
incidents are pure invention.

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Other
Books by Patricia Simpson

Whisper
of Midnight

The
Legacy

Raven
in Amber

Lord
of Forever

The
Haunting of Brier Rose

The
Night Orchid

Lord
of the Nile (Purrfect Love Anthology)

The
Lost Goddess

Mystic
Moon

Just
Before Midnight

Jade

The
Dark Lord

The
Dark Horse

The
Last Oracle

Spellbound

The
Risk