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“I love you,” she breathed, somehow needing to say the words again.
Eric exhaled sharply, his hand trembling over Brigitte’s. “You said earlier that our physical joining meant everything to you,” he said, his voice hoarse with feeling. “It meant everything to me as well.”
Brigitte gave him a small, tremulous smile. “Not merely lust then?”
“Not lust at all. Love. I love you, Brigitte—more than I can say. More than I ever believed possible.” Profound emotion slashed across his face, echoing in Brigitte’s heart. “When you fell sick—Christ, I was terrified. Then I couldn’t seem to bring down the fever. Not until tonight. It’s been three days, and you’ve done nothing but fade in and out of sleep, rambling on about being in heaven.”
“I was. Because you were beside me.”
A muscle worked in Eric’s jaw. “I was frantic. I paced. I swore. I even prayed.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I’d only just found you. I couldn’t—can’t—lose you.”
“Nor will you.” Brigitte wanted to shout her joy to the skies. “Not now. Not ever.”
“Even Noelle was alarmed, and you know she’s practically fearless. That first night she had a gruesome nightmare. She dreamed you’d died. I could scarcely stop her sobs. She loves you so bloody much …”
“You went to Noelle,” Brigitte interrupted, her pupils dilating with joy. “When she awakened from her nightmare, you went in to comfort her.”
“Yes. I did.”
“Oh, Eric.” Brigitte flung her arms about his neck. “You see? There are miracles.” She closed her eyes. “Thank God.”
Eric tangled his hands in her hair. “If God is to be thanked, it’s for bringing you into our lives. Perhaps He finds me deserving after all.”
“Oh, He does,” Brigitte concurred fiercely. Leaning back, she caressed her husband’s bearded jaw. “God sees you as I do. As I always have. As the man you truly are. A knight in a fairy tale: honorable, protective … extraordinary.”
“But sadly in need of a princess to rescue.” Eric brushed his wife’s lips with his. “Would you know of someone who might fill that role?”
“Have you forgotten? It’s already been filled—by your wife. You saved my life, remember?”
“I remember.” Sweeping Brigitte off the floor and into his arms, Eric made his way through the debris—crossing the past’s threshold and never looking back. “And in return, you gave me mine.”
—
“Uncle?”
The hushed summons tickled Eric’s ear.
“H-m-m?”
“Is Brigitte better? Is that why you’re hugging her? Were you celebrating?”
Eric cracked open an eye, his arms tightening reflexively about his wife, now curved gently against him, the slow rise and fall of her back telling him she was asleep. Smiling, he recalled the exquisite hours preceding that slumber. “Yes, Noelle,” he returned in a whisper, grateful that he’d heeded Brigitte’s advice and donned his trousers while she’d scrambled into her nightdress—just in the event of such a predawn intrusion. “Brigitte’s much better. And we were celebrating.”
Noelle’s sigh of relief was buried in Fuzzy’s fur. “Then everything will be better, won’t it, Uncle?”
“Yes, Noelle, everything will be better. Now go back to sleep; it’s still night.”
“All right.” She hesitated. “Uncle? Remember what I said about how much Brigitte likes you?”
“Um-hum.”
“Well, I know a way she’d like you even better.”
Both Eric’s eyes snapped open. “What?”
Noelle pressed her lips closer to his ear, her whisper loud enough to be heard across the room. “She thinks you’re really handsome. She stares at you an awful lot. I think you should make it easier for her to see you.”
Eric’s lips twitched. “What do you suggest?”
