Return to Me - By Morgan O'Neill Page 0,36

more, fighting the urge to come. He kissed her neck, lingering in the soft curve where it met her shoulder. Then, rising slightly, he cupped her breast with one hand, and took in the look of longing in her eyes.

“I love you, Gigiperrin,” he said, pronouncing her name as he did years ago, when first they met, running it all together in what she called his “funny way.”

“I’ll always remember that day,” she murmured, smiling.

“As will I,” he whispered back. “I saw you appear from the magical mist, and that moment was the true start of my life.”

She took his head in her hands and pulled his mouth to hers. The sensations, the wet heat, the flowery scent of her skin. Desire mounted within him, insatiable, demanding release. Magnus drove harder, pleased to see her head go back, mouth open, eyes closed.

He loved doing that to her, loved seeing her natural restraint fall away. He felt her surge coming, like a beast, unstoppable, and drove against it, harder still.

Gigi’s body arched beneath him, and she groaned as her passions released on him, pulsing, grabbing. His answering climax tore through him, mind and body, to the very depths of his soul.

When the thunder of his heart slowed in afterglow, when his breathing grew more relaxed, he heard her whisper, “I love you.”

He kissed her and said in Latin, “Benigno numine … by the favor of the heavens, I am yours to love. I am yours forever.”

Lying beside her, holding her close, Magnus watched Gigi fall asleep. As the afternoon wore on, he wished he could share her tranquility. Despite the gifts of this day, despite the soft melodies still playing on the iPod, his thoughts returned to Athaulf. He tried to push aside his troubles, but … would he be able to save his friend?

His mind was in turmoil. Closing his eyes, he poured over all the possibilities that lay between hope and danger.

• • •

The next day, the rains returned, and Gigi was delighted by Placidia’s invitation to come to the castle and pass the time. The queen had requested she bring her flute, and now Gigi played as many happy tunes as she could remember. She was in the midst of the highly appropriate “Singing in the Rain” when noise broke into her reveries. Verica and Berga tapped on the door and entered with a bow.

“We are sorry to be so late,” Verica said.

“Take your ease,” Placidia replied. “We have all afternoon. There is no hurry.”

Gigi joined the ladies for some sewing. It seemed like the old days, if one could forget the lingering sorrow about Theo. Nevertheless, Gigi felt a deep joy at sitting with Placidia, Verica, and Berga, and chatting about lighthearted things, as they had so often done in the past. Verica told funny stories about their wanderings before coming to Narbonne, and described the pageantry of Placida and Athaulf’s wedding. She told anecdotes about the children, even venturing to describe the beauty and sweet nature of little Theo. This made Placidia smile in a way she hadn’t since his death, and Gigi was glad for Verica’s kind words.

Gigi couldn’t help glancing again and again at Berga. How she had changed! Nearly ten, the girl had grown slim and tall, her face held in a lovely pout, a study in concentration as she embroidered beside her mother. Gigi hid her smile, remembering Berga as a little five-year-old imp, her hair a blond rat’s nest of curls as she scampered about the Visigoth camp and continually caused trouble.

Now the curls had been somewhat tamed and Berga’s hair was long and well-brushed, falling just past her shoulder blades.

“You are already a wonder with a needle, Berga,” Gigi said, and heard a faint, “Thank you” in reply.

“However — forgive me for saying it — your needlecraft has not much improved.” Verica chuckled as she inspected Gigi’s handiwork. Berga glanced up and grinned.

Gigi was attempting to stitch a simple border of daisies on a little shift for Marga. “I know. It looks like a cat used my work to sharpen her claws.”

Berga’s proper demeanor couldn’t stand it any longer, and she burst into giggles, collapsing against her mother.

Gigi was delighted to see the girl hadn’t completely left her childhood behind, and, smiling warmly at mother and daughter, she gave up and put her work down. “I’m afraid I still haven’t acquired many practical skills.”

“We would not know you, otherwise,” Verica replied, patting Gigi’s hand. She turned to her daughter and