Free Druid's Daughter by Jean Hart Stewart Page B

two-way
glass.”
    He reached over and took her hand as it lay on the table.
With the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, she covered his hand with her other
one.
    “Devon Randall, you’re forty-eight years old. Don’t you yet
know you shouldn’t try to keep secrets from a woman who loves you?”
    He half rose from his chair with delight, but then something
on her face made him sit slowly back down again.
    “You’ve just said the words among all those under heaven I
most want to hear. Why do I feel there’s something more I’m not going to like
at all?”
    Viviane for the first time did not look directly at him. One
of the traits he most treasured was the way her steadfast gaze locked on his
own. He never had the slightest doubt Viviane was honest in all she did and
said.
    “You are too honorable a man to want any relationship beside
marriage. And while I will gladly consent to be your mistress, I will not marry
you.”
    For once Randall allowed his face to show exactly what he
felt. Which was shock and horror at her suggestion.
    “I will not consent to anything less than marriage,” he
ground out between his teeth. “As you must already know. I would never insult
you by taking you as my mistress.”
    Viviane looked up at him with a small smile. “I’d be
disappointed in you had you stated otherwise. But I would have accepted it. I
think being your mistress might be a good solution for us both.”
    Randall pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.
    “I feel a sudden desire to get out of here.”
    He was still too insulted to be anything but stiff and
unsmiling. Viviane arose with her usual grace and put her hand in his.
    “You are my love, you know,” she murmured. “Let’s go to my
place and talk this over. Morgan is out at some musical society meeting. We’ll
have time and enough for you to hear what I feel forced to tell you.”
    Randall said nothing. He threw some bills on the table,
tucked her small hand in the crook of his arm and walked her out of the dining
room. He found it difficult to hold onto his anger when Viviane looked at him
with her beautiful dark green eyes and told him again she loved him. How could
he do anything but dissolve at her touch?
    He believed her completely. She never, ever lied. And if she
loved him, surely he could persuade her to marry him.
    They did not speak at all in Randall’s carriage. He put his
arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. She melted against him
and it was all he could manage not to shout at her they belonged together. But
neither one of them said a word.
    As they descended from Randall’s carriage, a sudden gust of wind
wrapped Viviane’s long skirts around her so she could not move. Laughing,
Randall scooped her up in his arms.
    “I hope I’m not such a slow top as to miss such a
heaven-sent opportunity. Even nature wants you in my arms, my love.”
    Viviane laughed with him, but her eyes remained sad and
serious. All hope he was making headway with her vanished under her somber
gaze. Solemn and desperately concerned, he carried her up the stone steps to
the entrance of her townhouse. The gaslight over the doorway shone on her
auburn hair, bringing out golden highlights. His lips touched her head briefly
and with reverence as he sat her on her feet. He followed her into her home,
greeting the butler and then going with her as she marched in the open door to
the small parlor.
    He loved to see her walk. He’d read enough to know Druids
trained their priestesses to glide almost silently about their duties. How far
had her training taken her? Not to the level of a priestess, he knew, or she
would be in seclusion in a temple most of the time. No, she’d left before the
final rites. But she’d certainly learned the most graceful walk he’d ever seen.
    She left the door open and Ambrose soon ambled in. Ambrose
came over to shake hands and then settled down by his mistress, his head on his
big paws. Viviane gave him a loving