Stronger Than Magic, page 37
She sniffled. “No?”
He shook his head. “Though it isn’t common knowledge, God judges each and every fairy when his time to cease comes. If He finds him worthy, He allows him to be born into the mortal world, thus granting him the chance to earn an immortal soul.”
“He does?”
He nodded.
“Then I shall pray for you day and night, begging Him to be merciful,” she fervently vowed.
He touched her cheek, an enigmatic smile playing across his lips, then dipped down and kissed her forehead.
“Alys?”
Alys blinked twice, completely disoriented.
“Whatever are you doing over there, love?” Lucian asked, raising to his elbows to view her with drowsy query.
She returned his gaze, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall what had brought her to the window. How very odd. She couldn’t even remember rising from the bed. As she opened her mouth to tell him so, she caught a glimpse of the glorious morning sky, and the answer suddenly sprang to mind.
“I was admiring the dawn and thinking what a miracle it is to be alive,” she replied, rushing to his waiting arms.
Epilogue
Thistlewood Castle, one year later
“Really, Luc. If you had any consideration at all for your wife, you would send those workmen away so she can get some sleep,” Charlotte railed, covering her ears against the racket reverberating up from the courtyard. “In case it’s slipped your mind, she was up all night giving you your son.”
Lucian glanced up in surprise, frowning as he noticed the noise for the first time. He was so absorbed in admiring his new son that he’d been quite deaf to the sounds of the Thistlewood “goiter” being torn down.
Instantly contrite, he shifted his gaze from his sister to his radiant wife, who lay propped up on a mountain of pillows with their sleeping babe in her arms. “Of course she’s right, love. It was inconsiderate of me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her pink cheek. “I shall go down and send them away immediately.”
Alys smiled and shook her head. “Don’t bother. The noise has been going on for so many weeks now that I barely notice it anymore. Besides, I’m too happy to sleep. And excited. Oh, Lucian! Just look at our son. Isn’t he the most beautiful sight you ever saw?”
Lucian studied the baby for several seconds, touching his smooth cheek and stroking his downy hair. After several moments of doting scrutiny, he shook his head. “Not quite.”
“Oh?” Alys and Charlotte uttered in indignant unison, the latter of whom had moved from the threshold to stand by the bed.
He shook his head again. “He’s not as beautiful as his mother, though I must admit that he is a close second.”
“Well, in any case, he is an extraordinarily handsome babe,” Charlotte marveled, leaning over to more closely examine her new nephew. “My Andrew wasn’t nearly so pretty when he was first born.”
“Andy was a darling from the moment he made his appearance,” Alys protested. “And I’ve heard many in our set say that he’s quite the bonniest little fellow in London.”
“A title he shall no doubt be sharing with his cousin,” Charlotte retorted with a chuckle. “What heartbreakers we’ve spawned.”
Alys smiled proudly at the infant in her arms. “Yes, as is Diana and Stephen’s son, Harold. I almost feel sorry for the girls.”
“Poor things. They haven’t a chance,” Charlotte sighed. “Just imagine what a dashing sight our trio shall make: Andy with his fair hair; Harry so dark and handsome; and your son with those stunning red curls.”
“I can’t imagine where he got those curls,” Lucian interjected, lightly smoothing his finger over the fiery spirals in question. “I don’t recall anyone on our side of the family having hair this color.”
“Nor on mine,” Alys countered. “It is an uncommon shade.”
“As are his eyes,” Charlotte added as the baby made a soft hiccupping sound and awoke.
All three adults paused in reverent silence to admire his bright aquamarine eyes. It was Charlotte who broke their worshipful meditation by musing aloud, “Come to think of it, I do recall reading something about an ancestor with coloring like this. I’ll have to consult The History of Thistlewood Castle to be certain, but I believe there was a son born to an Elinore de Warre in the fourteenth century with red hair and greenish-blue eyes.” She made a dismissive hand gesture. “In any instance, he’s beautiful and a credit to the Warre name. Speaking of names, have you decided what you shall call him?”
Lucian nodded at Alys, who smiled and said, “Aengus.”
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1997 by Heather Cullman
Cover design by Angela Goddard
978-1-5040-1002-3
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
HEATHER CULLMAN
FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA
Find a full list of our authors and
titles at www.openroadmedia.com
FOLLOW US
@OpenRoadMedia
Heather Cullman, Stronger Than Magic
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He shook his head. “Though it isn’t common knowledge, God judges each and every fairy when his time to cease comes. If He finds him worthy, He allows him to be born into the mortal world, thus granting him the chance to earn an immortal soul.”
“He does?”
He nodded.
“Then I shall pray for you day and night, begging Him to be merciful,” she fervently vowed.
He touched her cheek, an enigmatic smile playing across his lips, then dipped down and kissed her forehead.
“Alys?”
Alys blinked twice, completely disoriented.
“Whatever are you doing over there, love?” Lucian asked, raising to his elbows to view her with drowsy query.
She returned his gaze, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall what had brought her to the window. How very odd. She couldn’t even remember rising from the bed. As she opened her mouth to tell him so, she caught a glimpse of the glorious morning sky, and the answer suddenly sprang to mind.
“I was admiring the dawn and thinking what a miracle it is to be alive,” she replied, rushing to his waiting arms.
Epilogue
Thistlewood Castle, one year later
“Really, Luc. If you had any consideration at all for your wife, you would send those workmen away so she can get some sleep,” Charlotte railed, covering her ears against the racket reverberating up from the courtyard. “In case it’s slipped your mind, she was up all night giving you your son.”
Lucian glanced up in surprise, frowning as he noticed the noise for the first time. He was so absorbed in admiring his new son that he’d been quite deaf to the sounds of the Thistlewood “goiter” being torn down.
Instantly contrite, he shifted his gaze from his sister to his radiant wife, who lay propped up on a mountain of pillows with their sleeping babe in her arms. “Of course she’s right, love. It was inconsiderate of me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her pink cheek. “I shall go down and send them away immediately.”
Alys smiled and shook her head. “Don’t bother. The noise has been going on for so many weeks now that I barely notice it anymore. Besides, I’m too happy to sleep. And excited. Oh, Lucian! Just look at our son. Isn’t he the most beautiful sight you ever saw?”
Lucian studied the baby for several seconds, touching his smooth cheek and stroking his downy hair. After several moments of doting scrutiny, he shook his head. “Not quite.”
“Oh?” Alys and Charlotte uttered in indignant unison, the latter of whom had moved from the threshold to stand by the bed.
He shook his head again. “He’s not as beautiful as his mother, though I must admit that he is a close second.”
“Well, in any case, he is an extraordinarily handsome babe,” Charlotte marveled, leaning over to more closely examine her new nephew. “My Andrew wasn’t nearly so pretty when he was first born.”
“Andy was a darling from the moment he made his appearance,” Alys protested. “And I’ve heard many in our set say that he’s quite the bonniest little fellow in London.”
“A title he shall no doubt be sharing with his cousin,” Charlotte retorted with a chuckle. “What heartbreakers we’ve spawned.”
Alys smiled proudly at the infant in her arms. “Yes, as is Diana and Stephen’s son, Harold. I almost feel sorry for the girls.”
“Poor things. They haven’t a chance,” Charlotte sighed. “Just imagine what a dashing sight our trio shall make: Andy with his fair hair; Harry so dark and handsome; and your son with those stunning red curls.”
“I can’t imagine where he got those curls,” Lucian interjected, lightly smoothing his finger over the fiery spirals in question. “I don’t recall anyone on our side of the family having hair this color.”
“Nor on mine,” Alys countered. “It is an uncommon shade.”
“As are his eyes,” Charlotte added as the baby made a soft hiccupping sound and awoke.
All three adults paused in reverent silence to admire his bright aquamarine eyes. It was Charlotte who broke their worshipful meditation by musing aloud, “Come to think of it, I do recall reading something about an ancestor with coloring like this. I’ll have to consult The History of Thistlewood Castle to be certain, but I believe there was a son born to an Elinore de Warre in the fourteenth century with red hair and greenish-blue eyes.” She made a dismissive hand gesture. “In any instance, he’s beautiful and a credit to the Warre name. Speaking of names, have you decided what you shall call him?”
Lucian nodded at Alys, who smiled and said, “Aengus.”
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1997 by Heather Cullman
Cover design by Angela Goddard
978-1-5040-1002-3
This edition published in 2015 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
HEATHER CULLMAN
FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA
Find a full list of our authors and
titles at www.openroadmedia.com
FOLLOW US
@OpenRoadMedia
Heather Cullman, Stronger Than Magic
