alone, he’d ask her to wake up, and tell her that he loved her, that he’d always, always loved her.
She’d never believed anything in her life as much as she believed in his love. With all her strength she reached for him. She would leave this invisible prison. She would be part of the world again. And she would meet him and tell him that she loved him every bit as fervently and fiercely.
Helena gasped. So that was why Hastings’s voice had been familiar to her when she’d awakened. That was why she’d had a vague memory of listening to his impression of the Cheshire Cat. And that was why she’d had a much easier time wrapping her hands around the reins of her business than she’d anticipated, because he’d told her everything she knew.
She had never cried in public, but she did now, tears of joy and gratitude that she could not stop. The man she’d loved earlier had proved himself a lesser man, but the love of her life had proved himself worthy—more than worthy—at every turn.
And how fortunate she was to be going home to him.
No sounds had come from Bea’s trunk for the past twenty minutes. Perhaps she had fallen asleep inside—it had happened before, more than once. Bea, a heavy sleeper, did not mind being carried to bed—if she were actually asleep. If she were still awake and he opened the lid of the trunk, she would become twice as upset.
Hastings rose to his feet, rocking back and forth on his heels, mired in indecision.
“Is Bea all right?”
He turned stock-still with shock. Helena!
Slowly, very slowly, he turned around.
She came toward him. “I’m back. And I’m terribly sorry for what I said earlier. Forgive me for being too blind to see the truth right in front of me.”
He couldn’t speak, but he must have beamed at her. Her face, at first so serious, softened into a smile, her eyes resembling exactly the glimmering waters of Lake Sahara. He was dizzy with happiness.
“Lady!” Bea exclaimed, lifting the lid of the trunk and peering out.
“Yes, I’m back,” Helena said again, smiling even wider. “Would you like to come out?”
The trunk closed again. Bea’s voice was muffled. “Sir Hardshell died.”
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!”
“Why don’t you tell Bea about Sir Hardshell’s cousins, Helena?” Hastings finally found his voice. “Mr. Stoutback and Miss Carapace, among others. We can invite one of them to come and live in Sir Hardshell’s old glass tank.”
“Oh, yes, indeed. I believe that’s what Sir Hardshell would have wanted. He wouldn’t wish his lovely home to remain empty, all that nice soil, those pretty rocks, and that solid pewter water dish. Why, what a waste.”
Silence greeted Helena’s enthusiastic enumeration of the virtues of Sir Hardshell’s old dwelling. Hastings grabbed her and kissed her hard. She kissed him back with equal force. He could scarcely breathe—but why breathe when he could kiss?
He didn’t hear Bea. It was Helena who pulled away and said, “What did you say, sweet girl?”
“Bath?”
Has she had supper? Helena mouthed.
He nodded and imitated the motion of sliding a plate inside the little trunk door—he’d finally succeeded in feeding Bea something. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go without your bath tonight, poppet. It’s quite late. You’d better be in bed now or you won’t be able to get up on time tomorrow.”
More silence. He again kissed Helena until he was out of breath. But this time he did not miss it when Bea said, “Papa?”
He lifted her out and had her tucked into bed in no time at all. Then, hand in hand, he and Helena ran for their own rooms, not stopping until they’d slammed the door shut behind them.
Two hours later, Helena punched her David in the solar plexus.
“Oww. What was that for?”
“For being immeasurably stupid all these years. You didn’t need to wait until I was almost dead before telling me you loved me.” She next punched him in the arm. “And this is for pinching my bottom—I finally remembered it.”
“Hmm,” he said, putting a hand on her bottom and touching her freely.
She giggled and kissed the places where she’d hit him. “But I shouldn’t be too hard on you. You were an ass, but I was a thorough fool myself.”
“Thank you for saying it so I don’t need to.”
“Ha, for that, I will tie you to a bedpost and not pleasure you.”
“But think of the waste, darling. Why let a perfectly good, hard cock wilt from disuse?”
She burst out laughing.