A Midwinter Fantasy - Leanna Renee Hieber [6]
“Come then, you must sit down, now that you’ve come calling and disturbed my quiet. I see your nostrils flaring at the smell of it, Professor, so I know you’ll want a cup of your favourite brew.”
Alexi nodded and drew out a chair for his wife. She looked up at him with fond eyes, her hand unconsciously grazing her abdomen where her corset stays were bound more loosely these days. Having almost lost what she’d hardly knew she had, under horrific circumstances Michael didn’t wish to relive, he noticed her hand now rested there often, cradling the invisible life their beloved Jane had died to save.
Ducking into his small kitchen, he returned with a glass of wine for Alexi and a cup of steaming tea for Percy: as a parochial vicar for the Church of England, he always had a kettle of water at the ready, for he never knew when a parishioner might need guidance. It was more often that The Guard came calling. Would they still, now that they had lost their gifts?
The pair accepted their drinks, and Alexi wasted no time in admitting the reason for his visit.
“Michael, dear chap, now that we’re no longer arbiters of escapees from the spectral realm, I feel it necessary that Percy and I take the genuine, lengthy honeymoon we were so rudely denied by the onslaught of spectral warfare. However, I think it ill advised to leave Athens Chapel unattended, should there be . . . spiritual backlash or any other such nonsense. I’ll need your assistance to keep an eye open in case something flares up. Not that we could band together again without our powers, without our Healer . . .” Alexi’s usually firm voice faltered, and everyone looked at the table. He cleared his throat. “I assume this is not a problem?”
Michael opened and closed his mouth. He didn’t want more responsibility; he wanted time, now, to be a suitor.
Alexi read the conflict upon his face. “You’ve something better to do?”
“The good vicar does have a job, Alexi,” Percy murmured.
Alexi looked unimpressed. “Be that as it may, I may need him to step in and assist Rebecca with goings-on at the school, too. I’m not officially an administrator, but I might as well have been. The headmistress deferred to my judgement in many things.”
True, Rebecca often listened to him, but Alexi didn’t have to be so smug about it. His unwavering air of confidence rode Michael far rougher than usual.
About to open his mouth and chide his friend, he stopped and considered the impulse. What was this? What was this overwhelming irritation he felt for his dear comrade? He had always suffered notions of fleeting jealousy or resignation, like any mortal, but never with such a sudden sense of petty anger. His great heart had indeed withered with the loss of his gift. He wondered if his inner foundation of faith, too, his touchstone of assurance, would prove similarly shaken.
Percy’s voice roused him from his worried reverie. “How are you faring, Michael, in our new retirement?” She spoke softly, brushing her hand over his. Looking into her eyes, he fancied he could see her thoughts. Curious, empathizing, she was so intuitive despite her innocence, such an old soul in such a young, inexperienced body.
He shrugged. “Good, good. I spend more time at the church—never a bad place to be when one faces such a dramatic shift in life. There’s more chance to think, to pray . . . I’ve plans, you know. You two are not the only ones trying to make up for lost time.” Percy took a breath, but Michael continued before she could interject. “And how is he faring?” He indicated Alexi.
“I’m not sure he quite knows what to do with himself,” Percy replied, allowing herself a little grin.
Alexi turned. “Please don’t you go calling me insufferable, as The Guard has always done.”
At that moment the door was thrown wide and a nasal voice was quick to comment, “Did I hear the word ‘insufferable’?” Lord Elijah Withersby entered, a lean, flaxen-haired man in foppish satin sleeves, and he opened his arms