Two Passionate Proposals (5 page)

He unclipped it and read the message.
Fifteen minutes away.

Too late to escape. The squad had fast
transport and superior electronic means of tracking as well as magical ways.
Imogen had finally reached the end of the rails.

She looked up at him, her face as white as
the sheet wrapped around her, her eyes huge and dark.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Anger welled deep within him, a surge of
fury against Walker and the rest of them responsible for destroying their
happiness. And he had been happy. He loved her, he realised, had loved her from
the moment she stood before him with her hands behind her back, streaked with
mud and hair plastered to her head, eyes wide as he asked if she needed anyone
to scrub her back. She’d been the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. She still
was.

And suddenly he knew what he wanted to do.

He picked her up easily—she weighed almost
nothing—and moved so he was fully on the bed, then lay back, pulling her on top
of him.

Her cheeks were wet with tears, and dark
shadows marred the skin under her eyes. “I love you,” she said.

“I know. Me too. Now shut up; I’m trying to
save your life.” He cupped the back of her head and brought her mouth down. He
kissed her hard, letting the full heat of his desire course through him. He
knew she would be able to feel it, and he wasn’t disappointed; she gasped, her
mouth opening, and he deepened his kiss in response, his tongue delving into
her warmth. Passion flooded him as she tried to catch her breath. He was ready
for her now, but he wanted to make sure she was ready too. There was something
they had to do, and the timing had to be right.

Gently, he rolled until she lay half
underneath him, her wounded shoulder untouched. He lowered his head to her
breasts and traced his tongue around her nipples, sliding his hand up her thigh
as he did so. He threaded his fingers through her pubic hair, slipping into the
warmth and wetness of her. She sighed, opening her legs, letting him stroke
her, and he caressed her for a while, waiting until he felt her shiver and he
sensed the energy within her begin to build.

With no time to spare, he got to his feet,
discarded his clothes quickly, then climbed back onto the bed. He lowered
himself on top of her, supporting himself on his elbows, trying not to touch
her shoulder. Gently, he pushed into her. She was crying again, but he kissed
the tears away. “No tears,” he whispered. “Babies should be made with happy
thoughts.” He remembered the favorite day he’d spent with her, one of the rare
summer days they’d both had town passes. They’d sneaked into Exeter and gone up
into Rougemont Gardens. There, they’d found a quiet corner to lie on the grass
and kiss lazily in the hot sun.

“Remember the summer solstice?” He brushed
his lips across her forehead, traced a line to her mouth. “You taught me to
juggle with oranges.” He planted small kisses on her smile.

“I remember.” She let him kiss her, her
mouth opening automatically, her tongue caressing his in a deep embrace.

He moved inside her as they kissed,
stroking rhythmically, feeling both their auras begin to blend as their power
grew.

“Cameron…” Her breathing grew faster,
matching his, the energy pooling between them. He caught her left hand in his
right, linking their fingers.

“Use me,” he said. “You’re a nature witch;
you know what to do.”

“I can’t—”

“Do it!” He kissed her. “I still outrank
you.”

She stared at him, then gave a small nod,
closing her eyes. He increased his rhythm, watching her tip her head back as
her muscles began to pulse. As she came, he gave into the surge that had been
simmering inside him for several minutes. They’d had fun with this before, he
recalled in a haze, remembering how they’d tried making light bulbs pop as they
both came together, or make the candles around them burn brighter. Now, they
directed their energy inward, and he looked down to see a white ball of light
growing between their hands.

Imogen’s legs tightened around him, and he
gasped, spilling into her. The ball of light brightened like a supernova as she
directed all her passion, all her love for him into her solar plexus. He gasped
aloud as white-hot heat burned against his stomach. She was holding back, he
could feel it, and then she relented, and her magic swelled, washing over him
like a wave. His hand, clasped with hers, felt like he had plunged it into
boiling water. Pleasure and pain blended, and he cried out as she extracted
every ounce of power from him, draining him, gathering his energy inside her.
She shuddered, and her abdomen glowed, absorbing the power. They exclaimed
loudly at the tortuous, exquisite feeling, looking in awe at the magic they’d
created between them.

Then, gradually, the ball of light faded,
and Hawke felt himself return to normal. He held her tightly against him as the
last of the light dimmed, and she went limp in his arms.

“Don’t move,” she said.

“Okay.” His hands glowed with the last of
the energy. He wasn’t a natural healer, but nevertheless, he rested his palm on
her shoulder, letting the last dregs of the heat soak into her wound.

Her eyes were light, tiny sparks glittering
in their depths. “Did it work?”

He withdrew from her slowly. Pushing
himself up, he touched the space between his eyebrows, activating his second
sight. He examined her aura. It pulsed a deep purple and red, reflecting the
passion that had passed between them. Her abdomen glimmered from the fertilisation
process the energy had speeded up. And there, inside her womb, he saw a tiny,
golden glow.

Unfamiliar emotions rushed through him. His
eyes met hers. He couldn’t trust himself to speak, and instead, he just nodded.
He watched, his throat tight, as the embryo’s glow brightened, spilling out,
encasing her aura in the telltale golden ring that marked her as a pregnant
woman. The development usually took a couple of days, but their combined energy
had sped up the fertilisation process. With the energy now dissipated, the rest
of the gestation period would progress normally, but the damage had been done,
and now the authorities couldn’t touch her.

Imogen suddenly tensed.

Hawke’s eyes narrowed. “Is it them?”

She pushed herself upright, wincing at her
sore shoulder, then closed her eyes and sent out a pulse of energy.
Immediately, she got to her feet, looking around for her vest and shorts. “They’re
here. Get dressed.”

Hurriedly, he slid on his trousers and pulled
on what remained of the black jacket, then yanked on his socks and shoes. His
heart began to thunder. She was safe, but he… When they found out what he’d
done, that would be it for him. Well, he wasn’t going to go without a fight.

He turned around and stopped, staring at
her in shock. Scarlet energy balled between her hands.

“What the f—”

“Sorry. But I’m not letting you die for me.
If they think I took you out, you’ll be safe.”

She flicked her wrists. The energy flew
like a cannonball into his torso, catapulting him back against the wardrobe,
which splintered beneath him. The last thing he saw before he passed out was
her standing above him, outlined in her golden glow.

*

Three months later

Imogen took the bunch of daisies between
her fingers and hummed softly as she fed energy into their white petals.
Slowly, they grew several inches, and she smiled, brushing their beautiful
heads before casting them away from her, where they landed on the concrete
floor and glimmered as they melted into nothingness.

It was a game she never grew tired of.
Since getting pregnant, she’d tried to turn her powers toward growth and
healing, hoping the positive energy would somehow rub off on the baby. She was
starting to cast some roses when a knock came at her cell door.

She frowned and got to her feet, brushing
her grey trousers. “Come in.”

The door opened, and a wide form filled the
frame. Imogen didn’t recognise the man, but a quick glimpse at his lapel showed
him to be a field marshal—the top rank possible in the British Army. He was in
his dress uniform, used only for special occasions. She stiffened and saluted
him, her heart pounding.

He saluted back, then smiled, throwing her
completely off guard. “At ease, Captain.”

She blinked, dropped the salute, and stood
with her hands behind her. Captain?

He walked in, threw his hat onto the small
table in her cell, and then turned to perch on the edge. He was not a big man,
an inch or so taller than she was, although his shoulders were broad and his
muscled arms filled his jacket. He had grey hair and a grey moustache, and the
corners of his eyes crinkled with laughter lines. She liked him immediately.

“Captain Williamson,” he said, “I’m Field
Marshal John Richardson, in charge of the Supernatural Unit of the British
Army.”

She glanced at his badge again, now seeing
the small flame insignia denoting he was a fire warlock. “Glad to meet you,
sir.”

“How are you feeling, Imogen?”

She swallowed. “Very well, thanks, sir.”

“Your shoulder healed?”

“It’s well on the way, sir.”

“And the baby?”

She followed his gaze to where her stomach
swelled slightly above her pubic bone. “Doing very well, thank you, sir.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He glanced around
her cell. “Have you been treated well in here?”

“I can’t complain, sir.”

He smiled. “A good answer.” He studied her
for a moment.

Imogen studied him back. Her mouth had gone
dry. She’d been isolated for the three months since she’d been brought back to
England after being captured in New Zealand, and she had no idea what had been
going on in the outside world. Her days had consisted of exercise in the
high-walled yard, followed by more hours spent confined in her cell, with only
a couple of visits from the army doctor to break up the monotony. She didn’t
have a clue what had happened to Hawke, or how Walker had reacted when she
found out Imogen was pregnant and couldn’t be terminated. The guards wouldn’t
tell her anything. She was surprised she hadn’t been court-martialled yet. Why
was Richardson here? What had he come to tell her?

He gave a loud sigh. “You’ve given us quite
a bit of trouble, young lady.”

“I am sorry if that’s the case, sir.”

“Yes, it is the case. Exposing a
major-general’s involvement with Chaos has caused me no end of a headache.”

Imogen stared at him. “Are you talking
about—?”

“Ms. Walker, yes.”

“She had defected?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Let us just say
Major Hawke made it an objective of his to expose her. It took a few months,
but ultimately, he did succeed.”

Her legs wobbled. Richardson stood and
brought over a chair for her. “Why don’t you sit down, my dear?”

“Thank you.” She sank into the seat. “What…how…?”

“He staged a coup,” said the field marshal,
adding wryly, “Which I do not condone, but nevertheless am thankful for, in
retrospect.”

“A coup?”

“He found out she was about to help Chaos
launch an invasion. It would have been catastrophic for us if she’d succeeded.
He mounted an attack on the major-general and her accomplices. There was quite
a spectacular battle, during which, I must say, Major Hawke acted more than a
little irrationally and more than a little spectacularly, bringing down Walker
himself after an hour-long, hand-to-hand battle.”

“Is he okay?”

Richardson regarded her solemnly. “He is
fit and well, Captain Williamson, thanks to you.” He scratched his chin. “He
was about to batter the door down to see you. I had to have him restrained.”

Imogen flushed, and unbidden tears flooded
her eyes. “Sorry,” she said when he smiled at her. “It’s the pregnancy. I’m not
normally this emotional.”

He fixed her with a steady gaze. “What you
two did is directly against army regulations. Having a relationship in the
forces is forbidden; you know that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Seducing an officer to get yourself
pregnant is not strictly ethical either.”

“Um, no, sir.”

His lips twitched. “I understand Major
Hawke did not object overmuch.”

Imogen restrained a smile. “No, sir. He was
very…obliging.”

Richardson nodded, then sighed. “Young
lady, I’m sorry you’ve been through such a difficult time. I’m also sorry you’ve
been held in here for so long, but there is a formal process to things, and we
had to carry it through.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Normally, you would have to go through a
lengthy court martial before you were cleared to leave. However, Major Hawke
has spoken for you already—at length, I might add—and, as such, you’ve been
cleared of all blame and are reinstated in your rank of captain, and are free
to go.”