“No need to say anything further,” Christian jumped into the breach when Lars’ words trailed off and eyed his daughter. “Come over here. There are quite a few family members who’d dearly love to meet you.”
“Sure and she’ll be with you in just a moment.” Leona took her daughter’s arm and led her a few feet away. “Thanks be to you, darlin’,” she whispered low, “I’ll be havin’ my family whole again. Your da was so afraid if the lot of us gathered, someone would figure out what we were.”
“There’s still that risk,” Tamara whispered back, concern tugging at her midsection.
“Aye, but Christian was willin’ to let the chips fall. He wanted everyone together for your weddin’.”
Tamara kissed her mother’s cheek, inhaling her familiar, soothing fragrance. “I love you, Mum.”
“Aw, darlin’, my darlin’ daughter, not near so much as I love you. Get on wi’ you now. We can throw cake at each other after the ceremony.”
“Och, a fine old Irish tradition.”
Her mother grinned. “That it is.”
Tamara glanced toward where her father stood, surrounded by at least twenty others, maybe a few more. My brothers and sisters. She hurried to his side, anxious to meet each and every one.
Lars stepped out onto one of many terraces leading from the second floor ballroom of his home and gazed at the mix of antique and modern that was Heidelberg. The ancient German city had never looked so beautiful to him. The night was warm and clear, an idyllic summer evening for a perfect wedding. The actual ceremony had been brief, performed by a magistrate. Nonetheless, the words had etched into his soul. He would honor, protect, and love Tamara to the end of their days. “And beyond if I have anything to say about it,” he murmured.
“What was that, my love?” Tamara floated to his side. Swathed in his great-grandmother’s gown, she was unbelievably striking. The dress had needed serious alterations, since Tamara was much taller than women from earlier times, but the seamstress had a deft hand, and the gown looked as if it has been made for her.
He smiled. “I was just taking a breather from our guests.”
“Me too.” She laughed and the sound resonated in his soul. “Neither of us are exactly social butterfly types. I adore my family, but I looked around and didn’t see you, so I came a’hunting.”
“You can hunt me down anytime you want.”
“Truly?”
“Of course. We are mated, and married. It makes me eminently hunt-able.”
“Do you suppose we might live here for a while?”
Something lay beneath her words, maybe longing for the home she was certain she’d lost forever. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “What would please you?”
She drew her brows together. He’d come to recognize her expressions and knew she was taking her time because he’d asked an important question. “I want to stay here and maybe have a country house in Ireland too.” She grinned impishly. “Sure and then when we wanted to get away from this side of the Atlantic, we could visit Garen and Miranda. Och, what else?” Her eyes twinkled up at him. “You could be teaching me how to fly one of the bigger planes. I thought to mention it before—”
“It is not as if we have had large chunks of spare time. Everything you want is not only possible, but easily done.”
“You wouldn’t mind being close to Da and Mum a few weeks of the year? And all those brand new family members we just met.”
“I respect your father. He and I have much to talk about. He has not made a firm decision, but he may return to working for us, particularly since you are part of our operations now.” Lars snorted. “Somehow, I suspect he wants to keep a close eye on you, and determine for himself just how trustworthy I am.”
“Ooooh.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “That would be wonderful. Not the keeping an eye part, but working together. Da is solid. Nothing rattles him.”
“Ja. Garen said as much.” Lars was reluctant to break the mood, but he felt compelled to say, “The work we do is dangerous. Do not forget that part. It is why your father changed careers before. Your mother worried every time he left the house.”
“Dangerous, yes. Sure and it adds a fine edge to living, though. I haven’t felt this alive—ever.” She nodded thoughtfully. “For Mum and Da, I’m guessing they’ll work things out.” She twirled away from him, her skirts billowing, and then waltzed back. When she stopped, she was only inches away. “I’m happy,” she said breathlessly. “So happy it scares me.”
He nodded, feeling suddenly solemn. “I meant every word of our vows, liebchen. Now and always.”
She melted into his arms and twined hers around him. “I haven’t forgotten what you said in bed that night. You told me you’d love me forever and a day, sure and that was when I knew in my heart of hearts I’d marry you.”
“Ja, liebchen, my beloved. I will love you so long as there is breath in my body. When there is not, I will love you still. If that is not forever, I do not know what is.”
She tilted her head back. He closed his mouth over hers. The kiss was tender, sweet, filled with the love coursing through him.
“Och, so that’s where they are,” Christian’s voice boomed. “None of that, you two. You’ll have all your lives to moon over each other.”
“Your da’s right, darlin’.” Leona marched to where they stood. “Just now you’ve guests to attend to.”
Lars straightened and turned Tamara in his arms so she stood by his side. “You heard your kinfolk.” His tone was stern, but he was smiling. “Looks as if we have been remiss.”
“That you have.” Christian fell in next to Lars as the four of them walked back inside the house. “’Tisn’t every day I get a brand new son-in-law. We have toasts to drink, food to share, and tall tales to spin.”
“It is not every day I become part of something this special.” Lars beamed. Gratitude swelled in his chest. “Thank you.”
Christian turned. “For what?”
“The gift of your daughter and the rest of your family.” He met the other man’s gaze. “I was alone for far too long.”
“Sure and you’ll never be alone again.” Christian clapped him on the back.
Leona handed him a glass of champagne and said, “To a long and happy life.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Tamara grinned and picked up a champagne glass of her own.
“Ja. To a long and happy life for us all.” Lars lifted the delicate Waterford crystal flute to his lips and drank.
About the Author
Ann Gimpel is a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian bent. She’s also a mountaineer and vagabond at heart. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years back. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines, magazines, and anthologies. Her paranormal romance and urban fantasy novels are widely available in e-format and print. When she’s not writing, she’s skiing, hiking, or climbing with her husband and three wolf hybrids.
http://www.anngimpel.com
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