The Moonlight Mistress by Victoria Janssen

Author:Victoria Janssen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Spice
Published: 2009-11-21T16:00:00+00:00

After Hailey was safe and cared for, Lucilla walked down the muddy path back to her quarters in one of the slapdash rear huts. She was dizzy from lack of sleep and reliving, in a near trance, the moments when Ashby had shifted from one form to the other. If only she could tell Pascal. For a few wild moments, she considered ways of sending him a letter—through the French command, perhaps, or to his relatives in Le Havre—before laughing at herself. He would not be pleased to hear from her, she was sure. He no doubt had quite a few pretty mademoiselles trying to catch his eye. No, that was unfair; there was work to be done, and she felt sure the French army had not overlooked his usefulness. It made her feel a bit better to think of him occupied with engineering problems. She could even consider him with nostalgia.

He would love knowing that werewolves truly existed. She could encode that information in a letter, perhaps; it would not be like sending a letter simply because she wanted to do so. He would wish to discuss her discovery with her, and they could—no. She really had nothing to do with all this. She was neither an officer in the army nor a person with any scientific standing that an army would recognize. She should let Ashby know about Kauz, and leave it to him to speak to Pascal, if it could be managed. She would betray no one’s confidences that way. If she hadn’t been so tired and overwhelmed, she would have done it already.

Perhaps Hailey could carry a message to her captain. Lucilla could give her a letter for Crispin, as well, and some tea or his favorite nut-milk choc. It made Lucilla weary to think of turning and going back to ask. Hailey would be asleep by now, she hoped. She could speak to her tomorrow. Oh, she would give anything right now for a cup of tea, heavily dosed with Irish whiskey.

When she pushed open the door to her hut and saw the light on, Pascal standing there beside her bed, at first she thought she was dreaming. In one stride, he held her by the arms. A moment later, his mouth swept down upon hers. His mustache tickled her nose. That felt real. He drew back, looked down at her as if to confirm his welcome, then kissed her again before lifting her off the dirt floor and holding her tightly against him.

Lucilla stroked her hands up and down his back. Was he thinner than he’d been? She’d never before seen him in his uniform. The pale blue didn’t really suit him, nor did the loose cut of his jacket. Of course, her own uniform added at least ten years to her, and included a silly hat and cape besides, so she supposed she couldn’t criticize.

“Lucilla,” he said. He kissed her cheek and set her on her feet. “I thought I would have to search you out.

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