Beauty’s Beast(68)
Author: Amanda Ashley

“I cannot,” Charmion said. Evil laughter filled the air as she plucked the child from the arms of the priest and quickly murmured a spell that bound them together. “Try to harm me,” she said to Caddaric, “and you harm the child.”

Kristine looked at Caddaric. “What is she saying? You said her magic would be of no effect in a sacred place!”

“I am sorry, Kristine. This is something I did not foresee.”

“What are you saying?”

“Her evil is of no effect, but the spell she has cast is not evil. It is a spell of protection and she has used it to bind the child to her. Any harm that befalls her now befalls the child as well.”

“No.” Kristine shook her head. “No!”

The wolf strained against the leash. It took all Caddaric’s strength to hold him in check.

“A wolf you are,” Charmion said, cackling. “A wolf you will ever remain.”

“No!” Kristine’s anguished cry filled the chapel. “No!”

Charmion nodded, her eyes dark with evil delight. And then, slowly, her eyes widened and she took a step backward. “No,” she gasped. “No, it cannot be.” The color drained from her face, and she shook her head back and forth in violent denial. “No. No. No!”

As one, Kristine, Caddaric, and Edith turned to see what was causing the witch such anguish.

Charmion’s cries turned into a dull moaning as she clutched the child to her breast.

Kristine stared at the vision floating in the air above her, unable to believe her eyes. A beautiful young woman clad in a long white gown hovered near the altar. The light from a dozen candles shimmered from two candelabras, but the candlelight paled in comparison to the ethereal glow that shone all around the woman. Rich, dark hair framed a pale oval face. Her eyes were bluer than the sea, filled now with silent condemnation as she gazed at the witch.

The wolf whined low in its throat.

“Dominique.” The name was a tortured whisper on Charmion’s lips.

Kristine drew a deep breath. Erik’s first wife.

The wolf tugged against the rope in Caddaric’s

hand and the wizard let him go.

“Erik.” The woman hovering near the altar held out her hand and the wolf went to her, rubbing its head against her thigh. She ran her hand over his head, her eyes filled with unbearable sorrow, and then she fixed her gaze on her mother’s face. “What have you done?”

“No.” Charmion shook her head. “It cannot be. It cannot be.”

Dominique smiled at the wolf, her expression one of such tender love and devotion, it brought tears to Kristine’s eyes.

“Erik. My husband. I know you never loved me as I loved you. I thought you incapable of such a tender emotion.” She glanced at Erik’s daughter. “Yet even though you never loved me, I see that you love this child, as you would have loved our own.” A single tear slid down her cheek. “I forgive you for not loving me, my husband. I forgive you with my whole heart and soul. I loved you in life. I love you now. I will love you . . . forever.”

Dominique’s gaze settled on her mother’s face again. “But you . . .” She shook her head, her eyes filled with reproach. “Unless you return the child to her father, I will never forgive you for what you have done. Not in this life. Not in the next.”

Her image faded, her voice grew distant, and she was gone.

Kristine stared at Erik, her eyes wide, her breath trapped in her throat as the wolf transformed, his body stretching, changing, until he stood naked before them, tall and strong and perfect. And human.

Erik’s gaze moved over all of them. And then, without a word, he went to stand before Charmion. She stared up at him a moment, her face as pale as death, and then she placed the child in his arms.

A wave of her hand, and the witch was gone.

“Erika.” He murmured his daughter’s name aloud for the first time. “Erika.”

Chapter Thirty

Kristine hurried forward, her eyes damp with tears as she placed her hand on Erik’s arm. At last, they were all together, as they were meant to be.

“She’s beautiful,” he said, “just like her mother.”

Edith gestured at her son, then nudged her husband. “Do something.”

“What? Oh, of course.” With a wave of his hand, Caddaric clothed Erik in a shirt of white lawn, buff-colored breeches, and a pair of kidskin boots.

Erik glanced over his shoulder, a wry grin curving his lips. “Thank you.”

Caddaric nodded, his eyes twinkling.

Erik handed his daughter to her grandmother, then drew Kristine into his arms. “And you,” he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. “How can I ever thank you for your trust, your unfailing devotion?”

“Oh, Erik.” She clung to him, her hands running over his back and shoulders, moving over his face. He was beautiful, so beautiful. And whole again, at last.

“Tell me,” Caddaric said, “do you remember what it was like to be a wolf?”

Erik nodded. “But I would rather forget.”

Edith poked her husband in the ribs. “No more questions!” she exclaimed. “Can you not see they wish to be alone?”

“What? Oh, of course,” Caddaric said. Ushering his wife and the stunned priest out of the room, he quietly closed the door behind them.

“Kristine.” Ah, the joy of speaking her name.

“Erik.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Erik, I was so afraid I had lost you forever.”

“I missed you,” he said. “More than you will ever know.”

“No more than I missed you.”

Blinking back his tears, he hugged her to him. “Thank you, Dominique,” he murmured.

A warm breeze that felt oddly like a kiss brushed his cheek and was gone.

“It’s over,” Kristine said. “At last.”

“Ah, Kristine, do you know how much I love you?”

“As much as I love you?”

“More,” he said.

“No,” she said, smiling at him through her tears. “I love you more.”

Laughter welled up from deep inside him as he twirled her around the room.

“Come, my sweet Kristine,” he said, setting her on her feet. “We can argue about it at home.”

Home! She sighed as she cupped his face in her hands. “Ah, my lord Erik, don’t you know that you are my home?”

“And you, my love, are my life,” he said fervently, and he kissed her there, in the middle of the chapel, with the golden rays of the sun shining down on them through the window like a benediction.