“He should return any day now,” Roarke said, busy cleaning his sword.
“I hope he does; I miss him.”
“I have come to realize this past week how much you care for the Dark One.”
“You doubted my love for him?” she asked with a smile and shook her head. “I have never doubted. My love for him is bold and strong and forever.” She threw her arms to the heavens as if inviting their blessings.
“Bold and strong is what you will need to deal with what you will face.”
“You have continued to warn me of my feelings for him. I think you know something that you do not share with me.”
He shrugged. “I know the Dark One’s life is difficult, and love, on its own, may not be strong enough to overcome the obstacles you will meet.”
“I would like to believe that love is strong enough to perform miracles.”
Roarke stopped his work on the sword. “I suggest then that you hold firm to your belief, for you will need it.”
A chill raced through Mary and the old seer’s words echoed in her mind.
You will be the demise of Decimus.
She walked off toward the woods, her mind burdened with thoughts. A shout from Roarke reminded her not to go far. She acknowledged him with a wave and kept to the edge of the woods.
She had thought on her problem while Michael had been gone and had realized there was no easy solution. She was a hunted woman and that would not change, but then Michael was also a hunted man. What kind of life would there be for them? But what kind of life would there be without him?
She also realized the importance of Michael’s work. He would not simply walk away from so many tortured souls. He had made a vow and it seemed unfair to ask him to forsake it for her love.
With so many obstacles in their way, how then could she possibly believe they had a future together? How did she conquer evil so that she and Michael could be free?
Love will be your only weapon.
Her father’s warning was just as clear now in her head as it had been in her dream. How love could be a formidable weapon she did not know, but she would remember and hopefully strike with it when the time was right.
Mary enjoyed a good meal and a good conversation with Roarke that evening. They discussed many things but for some reason shied away from any talk of the Dark One. Mary sensed something was on his mind concerning Michael, and though she wished to question him about it she decided he would tell her in good time.
He did.
Just when Mary bid him good night, Roarke spoke up.
“I will be gone when you wake in the morning.”
“I will miss your company,” she said with sincerity and a twinge of joy, for his departure surely heralded Michael’s return.
“And I yours, but I know you miss Michael very much and will be happy with his return.”
She grew excited. “Will he arrive with your departure?”
“Within a short time of my leaving he will arrive. He would not feel it safe for you to be alone for too long.”
“How do you know of his return?”
“Do not ask me what I cannot answer,” Roarke urged.
“Michael remains cloaked in darkness in more ways than one.”
“You would do wise to remember that, Mary.”
“I find ignorance a foolish mask,” she said.
“Sometimes masks are necessary; they protect.”
“Who?”
“The innocent.”
Mary had difficulty sleeping. She would have thought anticipation of Michael’s return would rob her of sleep, but it was Roarke’s last remark about the innocent that had her thinking most of the night.
Who did he mean?
The innocent victims of Decimus’s persecution or did he refer to Michael’s innocence? And if so, what innocence did he speak of? She sensed there was more to Roarke’s warning than she understood, a clue of sorts, possibly to his identity.
She turned and tossed, her mind refusing to let go of her chaotic thoughts, and it was near to sunrise when, finally exhausted, she drifted off to sleep.
Waking to the smell of freshly cooked fish, she yawned, stretched and, grinned wide.
Michael will be home today.
Home?
Home, Mary realized, was where Michael and she were together. It did not matter if a sound roof covered their heads or the land beneath their feet belonged to them. What mattered was that they were with each other, sharing their life, their love.
Mary stretched herself fully awake and after combing her hair and plaiting it, she hurried to join Roarke for breakfast. She stopped abruptly when she discovered she was alone. Roarke was nowhere to be found and she understood that this simple breakfast was his way of saying goodbye.
She was saddened by his departure. She had wished to thank him for all he had done for her. He had listened endlessly to her speak of her love for Michael and did not discourage her, though he urged caution. She hoped their paths would cross again.
She ate her breakfast, her glance constantly drifting to the woods, hoping to see him emerge. She ached for Michael’s return; actually she ached for his arms, his touch, his kiss.
She was beginning to understand the ramifications of love. It consumed the senses and the mind. Nothing else seemed to matter; thoughts of the person lingered on the mind and the need to be with that person overwhelmed.
That was how she presently felt, overwhelmed with the need to see Michael again, to know he was well, safe, and that he missed her as much as she missed him.
Childish thoughts?
Selfish thoughts?
Or thoughts of love?
She laughed at her own musings and if he did not return soon, she would probably drive herself mad by day’s end.
“What is it you find humorous?”
Mary jumped from her seat, startled by the familiar voice behind her. She turned with a brilliant smile.
“Michael!” She flung herself at the dark-robed figure, holding on to him as if she never intended to let him go ever again.
He clung to her just as tenaciously.
“I have missed you so very much,” she said and laid her head on his chest, rubbing her cheek against the coarse material of his robe, wishing the shroud did not separate them.
“And I you, though I carried your sweet voice in my mind and whenever I missed you I heard you in my head and felt you close to me.”
“Pleased I am to be there for you.” She placed a hand to his heart. “I will always be there for you, Michael.”
Holding her, he said, “I too, Mary, I will always be there for you. You must remember that.”
She closed her eyes, smiled wide, and raised her head, offering her lips to him.
He took them, eager to taste her once again. He had missed her so very much. There had not been a time he had not thought about her; she had been forever on his mind and he liked the way she lingered there. He did not feel alone; he felt part of her and it felt good.
He kissed her slowly and with purpose, the purpose being to love her with all his heart. He took his time, wanting their kiss to go on and on, wanting this close, intimate connection with her, wanting her with him forever.
The thought jolted his senses and he remembered the news he was to deliver—but not just yet. He did not want to wipe the smile from her face, or the joy from her eyes.
He stepped away, though he took hold of her hand. “You look well and happy.”