A wave of shyness washed over her and she wondered if he would ever truly cease to be a stranger to her. She gently deposited Lucifer on the bed and held out a handful of dollar bills. "I can see you've redecorated since I've been gone."
He shrugged. "Since I didn't have to waste my one phone call calling my lawyer, I called Sven. It turns out he used to be an interior decorator before he became a hairdresser and a – "
"Demolitions expert?" she finished for him. She gazed around the room in utter bewilderment. "I don't understand."
Tristan drew a paper from his breast pocket and handed it to her. Arian unfolded it, recognizing it as a copy of the prenuptial agreement he had destroyed prior to their wedding.
"I'm willing to backdate it if you like. You'll still be entitled to the million dollars, the chateau in France, and the monthly stipend." His gaze dropped to the carpet. Or where the carpet would have been were it not buried beneath a mound of bills. "Even if you should choose to remarry."
Arian sank down on the bed, struggling to absorb his words.
His face was an expressionless mask. "I won't contest the divorce. I can't imagine how you could possibly want to stay married to me after I demonstrated such an abysmal lack of faith in you. I almost got you killed."
"You also saved my life."
Suddenly, Arian understood. Tristan was offering her a freedom he believed she desired. No matter what the cost was to him. And she knew now beyond the shadow of a doubt that it would be far more than a paltry million dollars. Reaching up, Arian drew the amulet over her head.
"Keep it," he ordered, his voice cracking beneath the strain of maintaining his veneer of detachment. He could not quite hide the anguished longing in his eyes. "You've already proved you have a heart too pure to be corrupted."
Ignoring his command, Arian drew off the amulet and marched into the bathroom. She had to give him credit. He didn't come running until he heard the chortling flush of the commode.
Arian faced him, a wistful smile tugging at her lips as she touched her bare throat. "I don't need Warlock anymore. And neither do you. Our love is the only magic we'll ever need."
Tristan's aloof mask slowly cracked in a smile. His legendary reserve crumbled as he whooped with triumph and snatched Arian up in his arms, lifting her over his head.
Arian laughed down at him, knowing that for the rest of her life she would be content to fly only in his loving arms.
Tristan and Arian didn't emerge from the bedroom until very late the next morning.
Still wrapped in her husband's embrace, Arian drew the door shut so as not to disturb a napping Lucifer. "I wish…" she murmured.
"Careful now," Tristan chided, kissing the tip of her nose.
She trailed her lips along his freshly shaven jaw. "I wish you would love me forever."
He tipped her chin up, gazing into her eyes with solemn tenderness. "Don't waste your wishes on what you already have, Mrs. Lennox."
She squeezed her eyes shut "Then I wish I had a million…"
"Dollars? Goats?" he offered, cringing in mock alarm.
Her eyes popped open. "Orange blossoms!"
Tristan swept her into his arms, laughing aloud at her frivolous notion. She had been right. They no longer needed Warlock. Not when he was only too eager to spend the rest of his life granting her every wish and making all of her dreams come true. But their tender embrace was interrupted when he sneezed. Twice.
They both glanced at the closed bedroom door before staring at each other, their eyes widening cautiously.
Tristan was the first to shake off the bizarre fancy. "Don't be ridiculous. That would mean you really were – "
"A witch," Arian whispered, unable to suppress a tiny giggle.
Tristan reached for the doorknob first, but her hand closed over his at the same instant. Exchanging a silly grin, they shook their heads at their mutual whimsy, shared another lingering kiss, then started for the elevator hand in hand to seek out some breakfast for their growling stomachs.
If they had opened the bedroom door at that precise minute, they would have seen Lucifer standing on his back legs in the middle of the bed, his tiny paws batting at the shower of orange blossoms drifting down from the ceiling in a fragrant cascade.
Epilogue
From the front page of the Global Inquirer, New York City, January 26, 1997:
BOY BILLIONAIRE WEDS
MYSTERY BRIDE FOR
SECOND TIME!
After tenderly renewing their vows before a small audience of friends and family, the beaming billionaire and his squealing bride departed in a waiting helicopter for destinations unknown. The generous pair shared their joy by circling the city to scatter one million orange blossoms and one million one-dollar bills over the cheering throngs of well-wishers.
Although reports of her premature death appear to be greatly exaggerated, the bride wore black.
about the author
USA Today bestseller Teresa Medeiros has well over a million copies of her books in print. She was recently chosen one of the Top Ten Favorite Romance Authors by Affaire de Coeur magazine. A former Army brat and registered nurse, Teresa wrote her first novel at the age of twenty-one and has since gone on to win the hearts of both critics and readers alike. Teresa currently lives in a log home in Kentucky with her husband Michael, five neurotic cats, and one extremely good-natured dog.
Teresa Medeiros, Breath of Magic
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