Page 108 of Angel in a Devil's Arms
Helene Durand Park
He gave a short, stunned laugh and sat down hard on the bench.
Never mind that their park was about the size of four picnic blankets sewn together. It was a miracle it was growing at all. It was a miracle they owned two buildings. It was a miracle she was in the arms of a man thetononce claimed had devil’s blood.
“Oh, my love,” he finally said.
He pulled her into his lap, and buried his face against her hair, and they held each other. She loved that she had the power to move him. They luxuriated in closeness a minute.
“Aunt Lizzie arrived today.”
There was a little silence.
“Ah. Did she? A woman of alacrity. I like alacrity in a woman.” He added hurriedly, “You do not mind that I wrote to her?”
She laughed. She was not going to weep again. “She is wonderful and she loves it here and I imagine she’ll love you, too, when you meet.”
“Women invariably do, given enough time.”
She nudged him. Then sighed contentedly. “I don’t know how to thank you, Lucien.”
“There is no need. If only you knew what a gift it is to me to be able to make you happy, Angelique.”
She could notbelieveshe’d actually had the great good fortune to marry a man who went about saying things like that.
“If you like, we can visit Devonshire to see the rest of your family. I’ve a house there. Perhaps, if it isn’t yet falling down, it would make a good country inn.”
“Perhaps one day,” she murmured contentedly.
“I’ve something for you, too.”
He pulled the angel from his pocket, where he’d wrapped it, very carefully, in scraps of newspaper and his handkerchiefs.
“It’s a gift to you from my brother. He brought it by the ship this morning.”
She gave a soft laugh. “Lucien... I...” She couldn’t speak.
She touched the angel’s little face, its delicate wings. She thought about Robert searching for family and his tender heart that hadn’t yet been crushed, or turned to stone by his father and mother. Tears stung her eyes again. And if she felt this way, she knew how Lucien must have felt.
Things were complicated.
No matter what, they’d see it through.
She looked up into his face. Shadowier now that the sun had nearly set all the way.
“So you had an interesting day, too,” she said dryly.
He gave a short laugh, then sighed, but it was the sigh of a man who was more or less replete. “I will tell you about it inside.”
She tipped her head back.
“Oh...” she breathed. “Lucien! Look!”
Visible now in the near dark, the apple tree they’d planted in honor of Lucien’s mother was proudly sporting a single white bloom.
“A little like you. A beautiful thing improbably blooming here by the docks,” he said.
She shook her head and smiled.
“It’s like the first star you see at night,” she said softly. “Perhaps we ought to wish on it.”
He touched the blossom gently. “I wouldn’t know what to wish for.” He laughed ruefully. “I have everything I want.”
“Perhaps you ought to wish your wife would kiss you in the dark beneath an apple blossom before we go in for the evening.”
And because it was clearly a magical tree, that wish was instantly granted.
