We’re done here, whoever you think you are.

I’m Josie Stirling, you pompous, pigheaded, prig! My code name is Arcturus, and will remain so, until the war is won! With or without you!

Oh, to have thrown that and so much more at Gideon before he’d had a chance to stalk off! But why waste her time, or her breath, on a man who would never change, who cultivated wrong-headed opinions about everything and everyone, himself especially?

He had every right to be angry, to feel deceived and manipulated. So did she. Angry at whoever decided to make them partners and not inform them from the start. Next time she spoke with Fenwick at HQ she’d wring the name of the culprit out of him and make sure it never happened again.

But the real and sharpest ache that had settled like a stone in her heart, was that she had been so right about Gideon’s reaction when he finally realized she was Arcturus. Dismissed her and her intelligence work as though she’d highjacked the code name from a more deserving agent. Her allegiance and experience held no more value to him than a toast crumb settled on his sleeve, brushed away and easily forgotten.

So be it, Colonel Fletcher. I wish you well.

It was nearly half-eight by the time she completed her radio transmission duties, locked up the cider mill and finished her final rounds of the estate. For once it was blessedly quiet in the Hall, the children in bed, not a single meeting, her father on an all-night training patrol with his Home Guard unit, the Land Girls attending the cinema in Shepton Mallet.

And Gideon would be in Yeovilton by now, expediting his transfer, with no plans to meet her in the library at half-ten tonight, or any night in the future.

Weary and heartsick and angry to the marrow, she sat at her desk in her office as she’d done every night of the war and encoded her intelligence observations, planes spotted, Home Guard patrol reports, messages sent and received, the radio transmission and, tonight, the disheartening quarrel with Gideon. Hardly a quarrel, a quarrel would have meant a debate with the man, a heated exchange of ideas, followed by a logical compromise of one kind or another. But Gideon’s answer was to dissolve their partnership on the spot. No discussion. No room for discourse.

No room to keep stewing about the impossible man. So Josie logged the farm’s output into her daily journal, acres plowed and planted, eggs collected, gallons of milk and fat percentages, petrol consumed, barrels of cider pressed—

Exhausted and hoping to keep thoughts of Gideon at bay by reading herself to sleep, she took a bath, dried her hair and had just finished slipping into her flannel pajamas bottoms and jersey top when Winnie began barking at something outside, beyond the wall of the kitchen garden.

Winnie had never been an idle barker, her alerts usually meant business, especially at night. So Josie slipped sockless into her loafers and her oversized Mackintosh, left her office with her electric torch and hurried through the service hall to the outside porch then out into the light rain.

She tracked Winnie’s voice along the kitchen pathways, up the stone stairs and through the garden arch, found the dog easily, her head and shoulders stuck deep inside a low hedge of shrubby cotoneaster, barking and snuffling, tail curled and wagging wildly.

“What is it, girl?” Fairly certain Winnie’s target wasn’t an enemy paratrooper, Josie shooed her from the hedge, then flashed her torch beam down through the branches just as one of Mrs. Higgins’ white Leghorns charged forward with a cackle, flapping her wings and diving between Josie’s legs before she could catch the accursed thing.

“Oh, no, you don’t, little lady!” She chased the indignant hen through the flower garden, was finally able to scoop her up in the middle of a bed of spent buddleia. The rain had slickened the cobbles, but she made it to the chicken house, popped the unhappy escapee through the top of the nesting gallery and dropped the lid on a chorus of squawking.

As soggy as the angry old hen, Josie hunched the hood of her Mackintosh over her head and hurried back through the rainy darkness to the covered porch and into the service hall, looking forward to climbing into bed and pulling the covers over her head.

Josie shut the door, stepped out of her muddy loafers, threw off her wet Mackintosh and hung it on the hook. Cold and nearly as wet as Winnie, she was starting toward her office in her bare feet when the dog let out a woof then loped around the corner into the darkened corridor that serviced the Hall’s public rooms.

“Winnie, quiet! You’ll wake the house!” She followed with her electric torch, ready to give chase before the dog could race up the stairs and into the children’s room. But Winnie was waiting for her in front of the service door to the library, tail wagging.

“Sorry, girl, not tonight or ever. He’s gone. I’ll have no more meetings with the colonel.” No more imagining a future with him. “Come, let’s go to bed.”

But Winnie only sat swishing her tail across the floor, staring intently at the door—and the sharp beam of blue-white light streaming through the keyhole and striking the brass bowl on the console table on the opposite side of the dark-paneled passage.

Just to be certain the light wasn’t coming from her torch—which at best was only ever a sorry spread of yellow, she flicked it off, set it on the console table, then stood there staring at the soft limning of silver that framed the library door, and knew it could only mean—

The orb! Oh, how wrong you were about me and Gideon, you vicious old thing!

Finished with the man and romance and the whole Nimway True Love nonsense, Josie yanked open the door, not caring what she might find on the other side, or how she was going to rid herself of the family curse.

There it was! The abominable orb, beaming away on the table between the two reading chairs where she and Gideon used to sit in front of the fire during their companionable meetings. Where they would share the workings of their days and try to chart their tomorrows, would tease and banter, where he would lift her into his arms and kiss her, warm her with a blanket when she arrived, wet and muddy and at sixes and sevens.

Here in her beloved library, where the orb had first tried so fiercely to bring them together.

And now glints of silver and blue were shimmering within the depths of the moonstone, bright bits of starlight breaking on its surface between the golden talons, whispering—

I love you, Josie. I will to the end of my days—

Promising the impossible—

Beckoning her to believe, to embrace its radiance with all her heart, until she was reaching for the orb on the table, bearing its hopefulness, its happiness in both her hands, hot tears welling in her eyes for all that could have been.

“You’re too late!” she said, stifling a sob.

“Dear God, I hope not, Josie.”

“Gideon?” She caught the orb against her chest and looked around for him, for his shadow in the darkness beyond the brightness in her hands. He couldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be! The lout was out of her life for good. The orb must be playing tricks on her again, tempting her to believe he’d returned.

“It’s half-ten,” Gideon said as the mantel clock chimed once, his silhouette stark against the flames dancing in the fireplace. “Right on time.”

“For what, Gideon?” She held fast to the orb, a shock of anger rising from her chest and flushing her cheeks. “You said you’d be staying the night in Yeovilton. You said we were done.”

“Ah, Josie—” He blew out an unsteady breath and stepped toward her from the shadows into the incandescence of the orb, his shoulders broad and strong as he looked down at her, his brow dark and furrowed as he captured her gaze. “I said a lot of regrettable things tonight.”

Her heart beat happily to feel him so near, was bound to be broken again if she allowed him inside. “Is that supposed to be an apology?”

He smiled to himself and then at her as he scrubbed at his jaw with the back of his knuckles. “A confession.”

“That you’re a turn-tail as well as a boor? I already know that, Gideon. So, if that’s all you’ve come to say, then we are done here, as you said.”

“Oh, I’m all that, my love, and more. Scornful, pretentious, parochial—”

“Don’t forget pompous and pigheaded.” Wait. His love? Is that what he just said?

“And quite full of myself, yes, I know.” He smoothed his hand over hers where she was holding the orb, the pressure of their shared touch lighting little fires against her palm where it met the silky smooth stone. “Then you came into my life, Josie. And I became even more so.”

“More full of yourself?”

“Full of you. The challenge you set for me: to be a better man than I’d ever imagined I could be.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that, Gideon.” Or why he was here in the library when he had been so determined to leave the Hall. She covered his hand with hers. “But what ever you think of yourself, Gideon, you’re a good man. I would never believe, never say otherwise.”

“There. You challenge me even now.” He cupped her face between his hands, tipped her chin with his thumbs so their mouths were inches from meeting. “Because the one thing I didn’t say at the cider mill, Josie, the one thing I should have said, and I hope to say every day for the rest of our lives together, is that I love you.”

“You—” What? Oh, God no! It’s happened! Though his gaze was fierce and earnest, he couldn’t have just told her that he loved her, not of his own accord. It was the wicked machinations of the accursed orb that was compelling him to thread his fingers through her hair, to smile softly at her as though bewitched.

“My beautiful Josie.” He bent toward her mouth, and his kiss would be—

—heavenly! “No, Gideon, don’t!” She clutched the orb tighter and backed away from the kiss that she would have cherished forever, suddenly protective of the lout. Afraid that he’d become enchanted and was being held against his will by the orb. Was saying such tender and lovely things to her when he’d been so clearly repelled at the idea of her being his partner.

“Sweet, your hair is wet. You’re shivering.” He slipped his warm arms around her, touched his lips to her temple. “Lost in the woods again tonight?”

“Yes.” No. Lost in his embrace, in their private fairytale, in the eddies of warmth pouring off his chest. “In the garden. Winnie found her. The Leghorn.”

He lifted her chin with the crook of his knuckle, his smile relaxed and teasing. “Are you talking about a chicken? Is that how you got wet this time?”

“I am. I did. Yes, Gideon. My war work, I’ll have you know.” Josie blinked at him, willing herself to take control of her senses, though she was shaking from the cold.

“Chasing chickens for the war?”

“Wherever I’m needed, thank you very much.” Suddenly remembering that she must get rid of the orb before it could do any more damage to their lives than it already had, so Gideon could leave on his own, she circled out of his embrace and started toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to—”

“You need to be warmed, Josie.” Two strides and he’d cocooned her inside a hearth blanket, carried her to the fireplace like a mummy, and stood her on her bare feet, her back to the fire, the carpet heating her toes.

She would have objected to his manhandling, but her teeth had begun to chatter and his neck smelled so deliciously of his soap, bay and ginger, the heat of him stealing her power to protect the foolish man from further influence by all this Nimway witchery. Distance from her, and the orb that she was still clutching against her chest, and the whole of the estate was the only way to save Gideon from himself.

“What were you going to do with the orb, Josie?” He propped her upright with his strong hands, leaned down and peered into her eyes as though he couldn’t get enough of her.

“I’d rather not say.” But she had to get rid of it quickly. Something powerful must have happened to Gideon since the cider mill. He’d left her like an enraged dragon bent upon destruction, he’d returned as though he was enraptured with her.

Yes! That was it! The orb had loosed Nimue’s and Merlin’s passions against him, had afflicted him with some kind of powerful love spell.

“I want you to know, Gideon, that I haven’t seen the orb since you and I kissed in the wine cellar. I don’t know how it got here in the library tonight!” Of all nights!

“I do.” He was smiling as he smoothed his hand over her cheek, whispered against her ear, “I brought it.”

“You brought the orb? From where?” He’d gone daft, of course. Was in thrall to it, spellbound and believing its romantic tales. “Where did you find it?”

A smile teased the corners of his eyes as he turned her toward the fire and added a pair of logs to the dancing flames. “The orb found me.”

“It found you where?” Fearful for his sanity, she clutched the blanket at her neck with one hand, cradled the orb in the other and lowered herself onto the upholstered stool.

“About a mile north of the A37, on the Lottisham Road.” He seemed to be smiling at some memory as he watched the sparks snap and soar up the flue.

“A mile from the A37? That’s not possible, Gideon! I know that road, it’s well south of the boundaries of Nimway Hall. How could the orb have found you there?”

“I wondered that, too, after it appeared and I realized how far I’d driven from the Hall.” He sat down on the stool opposite her, leaning toward her on his elbows, taking both her hands. “But then I concluded that if Nimue was once the ruler of Avalon, her holdings must have enclosed every hectare of Somerset. Am I right?”

“I suppose so.” This engineer, this man of logic had succumbed to citing local legends to support his theories. Oh, dear.

“Then why shouldn’t the orb decide to hitch a ride with me in the Austin?”

“The orb hitched a ride? You didn’t take it with you when you left the Hall?”

“Good God, Josie, why would I have done that—in the bitterness I felt when I stormed out of the cider mill? I was on my way to Yeovilton. To a new job. I never wanted to see the bloody orb again. And yet, there it was.”

“So, to be clear, Gideon—” God knew she was having trouble keeping up with his story “—the orb was sitting in the middle of the road when you—”

“No. It was sitting in the middle of the backseat of my staff car.”

“That’s impossible, Gideon!” More evidence of his enchantment.

“Big as life, my love, glowing back at me as though it planned to ride all the way to the air station.”

“A moment, Gideon, please. I’m having trouble understanding how the orb—” the moonstone in its golden talon which was settled gently on her lap, its pulse in rhythm with the beat of her heart “—ended up in the backseat of the Austin without you having put it there. I mean, really!”

He laughed, caught her chin and kissed the end of her nose. “I’ve no idea how it came to be there, Josie. Doesn’t matter in the least. Because I’m certain that I know why it did.”

“You do?”

“Because the orb thinks you and I should to be together.”

“You believe that?”

“With all my heart. You are the love of my life.”

“The love of your life?”

“My beautiful Josie.” He dropped to his good knee, became the whole of her world as he knelt above her, caressed her chin and smoothed his thumb across her lips.

And then he kissed her, blissfully, thoroughly, hotly, plundered and played, until she was breathless with need for him, as wildly enchanted as he must be.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, began kissing him as fiercely, tasting every place she could reach, unable to get enough of him, his lips, his brows, his throat, the lobe of his ear until he began making growling sounds in his throat and suddenly pulled away and looked into her eyes.

“Together, Josie. Always.”

“Together—” just as the orb wished for them. Oh, no! “Gideon, you must tell me what you did after you found the orb.”

“Turned around on the Lottisham Road and came back here to meet you in the library.”

“Yes, but, please, tell me exactly what made you decide to turn around.”

“Exactly?”

“Yes, please, Gideon. It’s very important.”

His eyes were alight with passion and promise. “You, Josie.”

“Me?” Oh, that was fine, then. He decided on his own, wasn’t persuaded by—”

“And the orb, of course.” He grinned, a giddy lift to his brow that made him look more than a little mad. “We had a talk.”

“The orb spoke to you?”

“In its own way.”

This wouldn’t do at all! Damn the orb and all its wickedness!

“Gideon, I must ask you something quite serious—” tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she had to be sure, took his hands in hers, so large and kind and masculine. “And you must promise to answer as honestly as you’ve ever answered any question put to you, by anyone.”

“This sounds serious indeed.” He narrowed his eyes, looked down his handsome nose. “Go ahead.”

“Are you enchanted?”

“Enchanted?” He laughed, his eyes glinting in the firelight as he smiled and cupped her face with his fine hands. “Completely, my love! You have enchanted me beyond rehabilitation.”

“Oh, no, Gideon, I was afraid of that!”

“Afraid?”

“That you’ve been bewitched by the orb, and you don’t know it.”

“Bewitched by you, my love.” He dropped his voice between them, low and sultry, smoothed his forefinger across her lips. “And I’m very, very aware of it.”

“No, magically bewitched by the Hall, Gideon. And the orb. These outlandish legends of love and desire! How can either one of us be sure you’ve not been beguiled into believing you love me when you don’t?”

“But I do love you!”

“You left here barely three hours ago as though I had tainted your honor. Said that we were done. Finished!” She stood, felt the orb slip off her lap onto the carpet at her feet. “And then the orb appears in the backseat of the Austin, and now, here you are in the library, kissing me as though nothing has changed.”

“Much has changed, Josie. Myself most of all. Inside, where it counts most.” He smiled and stood, then lifted her into his arms, blanket and all, and started for the library door. “I told you before that I’m an engineer, a soldier. I know truth from fantasy. And you are my truth.”

“But the orb, Gideon?” How could she be sure?

“A reminder of how little my life would mean without you in it. A reminder that I’m a bloody fool.”

“And that I’m Arcturus?”

He stopped in his stride and stared at her, as though still disapproving of her intelligence work. And his approval would make all the difference to their future, because, enchantment or no, they couldn’t remain together without mutual respect.

“That I was an idiot. Clearly. When I returned here to throw myself on your mercy, I called Todd to tell him I wasn’t coming tonight after all. He had news that involves us both, you and me.” He’d gone suddenly serious, businesslike.

“About?”

“Seems I’m to head up a new research section for SOE.”

“Where?”

“Here in Somerset. Southill House at first, then Yeovilton once the air station is operational.”

“You’re staying here?”

“Is that an invitation?” He grinned and continued toward the door. “Because your Aunt Freddy’s Orb of True Love was right all along. You and I belong together. I want you to marry me. Have our children. We’ll spend our lives making scrumpy and planting barley.”

A life of bliss and fulfilment.

“Which changes nothing in the meantime, Gideon. Not where my work for the war is concerned. I’m an agent for His Majesty’s most secret service. And so are you.”

He stopped at the door, his smile deepened and darkened, as though he was brewing an exotic secret between them. “And so are we, my dear Arcturus.”

“Oh, Gideon. Invictus. I love you.” Loved their secrets. She slipped her arms around his neck. “And I’m so very glad the orb hadn’t stolen your wits, that you don’t actually believe in the bloody thing.”

“But I do believe in its power, Josie. The most powerful force the world has ever known.”

“Love?”

“Simple as that.” He kissed her as he carried her through the door to the service hall. “There you are, Winnie—” kept kissing her all the way into her office “—see that we’re not disturbed, there’s a good girl—” and into Josie’s bedroom, where she’d left a lamp burning low on her bedside table.

The bed, tall and testered, the bedclothes plush with a thick down spread, a bank of pillows against the headboard. She’d never thought of taking a man to her bed, but now that was the only thought in her fevered brain.

This man, in her bed, making love to her. The marvelous man of secrets and honor who was standing with her in his arms in the middle of her room, plundering her mouth and stealing the breath from her. A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with being wet from the rain.

“Take me, Gideon. Make me yours.”

* * *

“Take you, Josie?” Gideon raised his mouth from hers and knew from the sultry look in her eyes that he was in deep trouble. Deeply in love and wanting the woman in his arms like flame needed oxygen, burned to slide his hands over her silky skin. “Where?”

“All the way, please.” She snuggled her lips against his ear, nibbling and tugging.

“All the way, Josie, to what?” His plan was to kiss her quickly, bid her a good night and leave her safely in her room. Alone.

“All the way to bed. To wherever this wonderful feeling will take us tonight.”

“Not a good idea, my love.” Not trusting either himself or the lusty woman in his arms who was trying to kiss his neck and unbutton his shirt. He caught her hands to stop her exploring and managed to stand her on her feet. “Not yet.”

“When, then? Soon? Father won’t be home all night.”

Good God, she was serious and even more beautiful when she was pouting, her rosy lips full and damp. “Not until we are married.”

Hoping to distract her from the dangerous direction she was heading with her fondling, he left her to lock the door against her surprising immodesty, then flicked on the lamp on her dressing table. When he turned back she was still standing in the center of the room, the blanket in a pool at her feet.

“That won’t do, Gideon.” She was wearing the most god-awfully beguiling pair of formless, over-sized flannel bottoms, gathered at the waist, the hems overhanging her bare feet. The top presented a lusciously different prospect. Long-sleeved, knit, military-issued silk jersey, ivory, that followed every curve and offered his aching fingers a placket of four buttons that stopped just below her breasts.

He swallowed hard, barely breathing, barely able to think. “What won’t do, my love?”

“To wait. There are things in a marriage that must be tested first.”

“Things?” He was painfully aware that his erection was fully engaged, ready for the woman. “What sort of things?”

Her smile was lopsided, worldly and innocent. “Love-making. Those very important things.”

“You’ve seen for yourself, Josie, that my ‘things’ work perfectly well.”

“I can see that.” She was doing a poor job of hiding her smile. “And did last night.”

“Yes, last night.” Not so very long ago. And yet a thousand years.

“But you were in your knickers at the time. Which doesn’t really count.”

It counted for everything. “My knee hurt like the devil and yet you aroused me with your touch.”

“I couldn’t help but notice.” Her eyes widened with her smile. “And oh, how I wanted to touch you everywhere.”

“Good grief!” He looked down at her fingers that were working the front of his shirt again, caught them before she could continue. “What are you doing?”

“Proving to you that I’ve been well-trained in all subjects.” She smiled up at him. “I know you still doubt my skills as an intelligence agent.”

“I don’t, Josie. Truly. My reticence speaks only to my fear for your safety.” He lifted her chin and kissed her, realized only then what she had said and that she was tugging his shirt tails from his trousers. “Well-trained for what exactly?”

“For every eventuality.” Out came his shirt tails.

“Josie.” He caught her hand as she went for his belt, tipped her chin again and looked into her eyes. “What training are you talking about?”

“Special operations.” Said with a highly provocative wink and a wriggle of her shoulders. “Coleshill.”

He could only blink back at her, trying not to imagine the kind of training she meant. He knew of MI6 officers who performed ‘special duties’ when necessary for a particular operation: infiltrations, kidnaping, the occasional ‘removal’ of a threat, but—

“How special do you mean, Josie? And where did you receive this training?” The training that allowed her to unclasp his belt buckle without him realizing.

“Special intelligence training, given just to women. Weapons of Espionage for the Femme Fatale.” She gave a tug and his belt zipped through the loops at his waist, came off in her hands and in a flash she’d reached around and corralled him with it, pulled him tightly against her, her hips against his thighs, his erection against her belly. “Using anything at hand to subdue one’s male target.”

“Male target? Josie, no!” Horror shook him, the full panorama of the danger she was in. His Arcturus. His dearest love. He lifted her off her feet, carried her to the bed, pressed her back against the bank of pillows and trapped her knees with his bad knee, supporting himself above her on the good one.

“What kind of training have you been given? Where in God’s name are they planning to send you?” Here is where he would draw the line, sharp and deep.

“It’s not like that, Gideon.” Her smile softened as she looked up at him, her eyes bright and damp.

“But you’ve been trained in this?” She was an agent. She damn well better have been trained. By whom? To do what? Jealousy warred with fear for her.

“Of course, I’ve had a good deal of training over the past year. Radios and wiring and such. But not seduction.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean, ‘am I sure?’” She shoved him away and came forward onto her knees, arms crossed over her chest, just under her perfect breasts. “I think I would have noticed had my homework assignment been to seduce a handsome fellow agent.”

She was beautiful in the shadows, the amber of the bedside lamp making a halo of her hair as she knelt in the middle of the bed like a forest nymph who’d sneaked indoors on a whim. A wave of heat and delight swept over him, that Josie loved him.

“This fellow agent would have volunteered as your practicum.”

“I would have chosen you. My Invictus.” She slipped off the bed and ran her fingers through her hair, loosened the long golden tendrils to fall behind her shoulders, causing the dark peaks of her breasts to press against the tight fit of her jersey, beckoning his hand to caress them, his mouth to taste her. “Lt. Colonel Gideon Fletcher, you are my superior officer when it comes to this sort of training, experience-wise, I assume. And I suspect you’ve a lot to teach me about the most effective methods of seduction.”

“You were doing quite well on your own, my love. Too well.” Too rousing. He ought to leave right now, shut the door behind him and sleep until the clear light of day when his head would be clearer, his hunger for her not so fierce.

But she was walking toward him, hips swaying beneath those capacious pajama bottoms, her long, golden hair hanging free around her shoulders, hiding the curves he longed to explore.

“I know this much, Colonel, that your shirt goes first.”

And so he let her peel him of his shirt and stood breathing like a stag in rut, certain he couldn’t last through her tutorial, but willing to try.

“As you wish,” he said, kissing her neck, working free the buttons of her jersey, nuzzling the warmth in the V between her breasts, caught her as she leaned back and opened to him. He pulled aside the fabric and took her nipple into his mouth, nearly bursting with his need for her when she moaned, the sound lingering like a howl.

“Oh, Gideon! Yes, there! Oh yes!” His wild partner ground her hips against him, his erection hard and throbbing. “Please!”

“These go next, my love.” He fit his hands to her hips, stuck his thumbs into the elastic waistband of her pajama bottoms and had them off her a moment later.

He stood away to look his fill at the woman who had lifted him out of himself and set him down in the middle of her life, her jersey hanging loose around her naked breast, the fair patch at the cleaving of her thighs, her legs bare and her fists clenched.

“I want you, Gideon.” She lifted her shirt up and off over her head, tossed it across the room. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me have you.”

“You remind me of the orb.” He shucked out of his vest and his trousers as she watched. Struggled to shuck his knickers around the fierceness of his erection. Finally stood as naked as she, unmoving for fear of ravishing her on the spot.

“The orb, Gideon?” Her smile was languid and lovely as she came toward him. He drew in a long, shaggy breath as she placed the palm of her hand on the middle of his chest. “Why do you think that?”

Aching to form his hands to the shape of her breasts, to stray further to the curls he knew would be damp with wanting, he held back, knowing that to act would be the end of his restraint. “Because you’re pushy and rude and think you know best.”

“Yes, I do know best.” She grazed her hands down to his hips, the silk of her palms arousing enough to shatter his patience, but when she bent on her knee in front of him, he caught her elbows and raised her swiftly.

“What are you doing, woman?”

“I know what I’d like to do, Gideon.” She looked down at his very erect penis, then back up into his eyes, mischief alive in her smile. “But I was just going to check the dressing, before we ravished each other in my bed.”

“I did as well as I could with the dressing after my bath.” When she knelt again, he was startled enough to let her look, to let her touch both sides of his knee with her fingertips. “Looks fine, quite fine, in fact.” She rose with that same smile and wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering, “The dressing looks good too. Now, please, Gideon, can we continue my lesson.”

Bloody hell, could a man be more lucky?

“At your service, my love.” He drew her against him and kissed her, meeting her tongue in a dance of fire, plunging and probing, collecting her moans of pleasure, his hands never still for wanting all of her, his arms quaking.

“To the bed, please,” she whispered, rising on her toes and climbing eagerly into his embrace. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he caught her backside, holding her against him, her desire a soft and slick heat against his belly. Oh, how he wanted to play there. To taste her.

“To the bed, my love.” He carried her there, to the center of the bank of pillows and winced when he bent his bad knee to kneel beside her.

“You’ll not be able to use that knee anytime soon, Gideon.” As though she’d found a cure, she reached for his erection and took in a breath when she found it, held it. “It’s lovely!”

He caught her hand to his chest. “Oh, God, no, Josie. Not tonight. I won’t last. Perhaps it’s for the best. We shouldn’t.”

“Why not. I don’t mind at all that you can’t mount me in the usual way. I’ve read that there are other positions. Female superior.”

“Good God, Josie.” He kissed her palm, rolled as far atop her as he could, hoping to still her for a moment. “It’s for the best that I can’t the regular way. Shouldn’t anyway. I can, absolutely. You can see for yourself.”

“I do.” She closed her eyes and circled her hips beneath him.

“But not tonight.”

“Why not? You’ve asked me to marry you.”

He had. And realized, “But you haven’t answered.”

“I haven’t?” She smiled, caught his backside and in a single movement that defied the laws of physics, rolled with him so that he was on his back and she was straddling his hips.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m saying yes, Gideon, I’ll marry you and love you and bear your children—”

“When?”

“When will I bear your children?” She braced herself on all fours, raining kisses across his face, down his throat. Then she was reaching for his penis, embraced it like a marvelous pulsing glove and fit its head against her slick heat, smiling down at him like a Cheshire cat. “After we’re married, of course.”

“Dozens?”

“Oh, yes. And I like you here, Gideon.”

He could hardly find a breath, held tightly to her hips, to keep himself from plunging. “When will you marry me?”

“Tonight, if I could, my dear Gideon. Demand a special license and be married at midnight in the churchyard beneath our yew tree.”

“My Josie.” His pagan bride, dancing naked and beribboned in the moonlight, among the tall flowers and approving spirits of her ancestors. “If only we could.”

“This Christmas, then.” Her face was flushed with love for him, with her wild desires, her caress encircling his erection, an exquisite torture.

“Not sure I can wait that long.”

“Let’s not, then.” She took a long breath, met his mouth in a fury of plunging kisses, then lowered her hips and pressed him past her silken folds, rocked her hips to take him deeper and deeper until he met her final barrier and could wait no longer.

“Together, my love.” He rose up, spread his hands across her bottom then thrust sharply through her tightness, paused to hear her sweet moan against his ear, then groaned and carried himself all the way home. Deeply. Sweetly. Rabidly, measure by measure, as she began to rock with him, kiss him, sighing and soughing and whispering his name.

“Oh Gideon, you are—” Josie couldn’t help moaning shamelessly against Gideon’s cheek, couldn’t seem to control the throbbing rhythm of her own hips, the need to drive him deeper and deeper inside. “You’re... very... large!”

Her whispers seemed to draw a long feral groan from the wondrous man straining beneath her. The sculpted sinew of his chest, bronze and slick with sweat. “And you, my sweet, are tight and warm and so—oh, God, so—’

“So mad for you, Gideon! Oh, yes!” Her handsome beast was breathing like a bull against her breast, bracing her above him with his hard-muscled arms as he nuzzled a searing path to her nipple, tugging and laving and nibbling, the heat of him building a coil of pleasure that tightened her insides around his marvelous shaft and centered on the spot where she joined with him.

“Ride slow, my love,” he said, his nostrils flaring, his fingers splayed across her bottom, kneading, pressing her closer, his voice a low rumble that echoed through her belly, “ride steady.”

“So lovely!” So languid, like floating on a warm sea, with Gideon as her raft, warming in the sun, leaving her wanting more of him, all of him, taking him deeper, onward toward a licking fire that would surely consume them both.

“Too soon, my love—” His breath thundered out of him as he restrained his thrusting, anchored her hips against his, his eyes wild and bright, lit with a desire that mirrored the mists that swirled inside the orb.

“I love you, Gideon. Can’t seem to stop this squirming against you.” Feeling free and open to his gaze, she sat upright and began rocking, gasped when he sat up and wrapped his iron-bound arms around her.

“Then squirm, my love. I’ll bear up for you.”

“My partner, my soul.” Josie sighed and arched backward in his arms, exposed herself to him utterly, trusting his heart, his very maleness, shuddered and cried out when, at the same time, he took her nipple into his mouth and found the heat of her between her legs where they were coupled and wet and so very warm.

“I love you, Josie!” In the next moment, Josie was lying on her back amidst the pillows, looking up at the man she loved with the whole of her heart, her legs spread wide to encourage the power of his thrusting, as he watched her, smiling, straining, pumping until the world around and above her suddenly stopped—

“Ooh, Gideon, together!” The quake of pleasure came hard and hot, swept over her with a shattering, convulsive wildness. Wave after wave of peaks and valleys, bits of starlight and whole constellations, ripples upon ripples of ecstasy until she thought she would die of it, of him.

Of her dear Invictus. The remarkable man who’d become the light of her life, was poised above her on his outstretched arms, growling her name between thrusts, plunging ever deeper and surer, until every muscle in his body seemed to still except the hard shaft buried inside her that pumped on its own, his seed like molten life pouring into her furrow.

“Josie!” He shuddered and thrust again and again, then, as though sliding back to earth from the cloud they shared, her handsome secret agent finally lowered himself onto his elbows, kissed and nuzzled her neck, a conquering smile in his eyes. “Not the way I thought this night would end, my love.”

She kissed him. “But a better welcome to Nimway Hall than I gave you on our first meeting.”

“Now that would have a been a greeting for the ages!”

“Do you think the orb had any part in this?”

He laughed and raised his head like a mythical beast sniffing the air, looked around. “Where is the bloody thing, do you suppose? Do you think we’ve proven that we’re no longer in need of its assistance?”

“The orb?” Josie nipped at his chin, bent her knee, braced her foot on the mattress then rolled him onto his back where she could perch on his chest and look him in the eye. “Last I knew it was sliding off my lap onto the carpet in the library when you were kissing me.”

“Back into Nimue’s cave?” He skimmed his fingertips down her back, trailed them over her bottom.

She grinned at him. “I like to believe it will linger in the library where we found it.”

“For our stubborn daughter to find one day when she’s Guardian of Nimway Hall and is in desperate need of her own true love.”

“Our daughter will be stubborn?” Josie made a show of being shocked.

“As stubborn as her mother, and our sons will be as pig-headed as their father.”

“What a romantic man you turned out to be, Gideon Fletcher.”

“And what a very fine intelligence operative you’ve turned out to be, Arcturus. Arthur. Guinevere. Merlin. Nimue. Could I have been more dense? I should have known who you were that first day in Balesboro Wood and in the wine cellar. All that talk of King Arthur. You blinded me with your faith in everyone around you, your unwavering faith in me. Made me understand that my life had been saved so that I might rise and fight again.”

“My love, my champion.” How could he have ever thought himself otherwise? How she loved him!

“And you are my Josie. The best of me.”

“But now you have me wondering, my handsome, brave hero, can you really rise and fight again so soon.” Josie flexed her fingers over his resting penis and thrilled to feel it fill her hand almost immediately. “Indeed you can!”

Josie enfolded them inside the down coverlet and made a closer inspection of the man and all his magnificence. They teased and kissed and came to each other again until they were lying together, spent and spooning, Josie snuggled against his chest, his hand cupping her breast.

He kissed her ear, whispered, “I’ve enjoyed tonight’s meeting more than any other we’ve had.”

She covered his hand with her own. “Most productive of the lot. So in keeping with our agenda, I will ask: What are you up to tomorrow, Colonel?”

“Tomorrow I ask your father for your hand in marriage.”

She laughed. “And he’ll ask what took you so long. My father agrees with the orb.”

“Wise man.” Another kiss that stirred her fires and struck the breath from her. “And what of your day tomorrow?”

“Indeed.” She wasn’t sure where they stood with Gideon’s new position, what that meant for the two of them. “I plan to report to Fenwick that Arcturus and Invictus have successfully established a live connection.”

“Haven’t they, though?” His lips followed his fingers along a trail of bliss. “Invictus can’t seem to keep his hands off Arcturus.”

“And vice versa, though I won’t tell him that detail. Wouldn’t want to shock the man.” Needing to be serious for a moment, she caught Gideon’s hand. “But I will be assigned a new partner. Continue our mission.”

“If you’d like. Or you can assist me in this new venture with the SOE. Lots of opportunities to expand your influence in the war effort. I’ll know more in the coming week.”

She couldn’t leave the farm, but how thrilling that he should want her for her expertise. “Would you be my superior, then? Will I have to work under you?”

He arched a rakish brow, was fondling her in the most intimate of places. “I’d hardly call this work. But looking ahead, my love, I see an assignment for us at Christmas time. Very official. Involves a license and flowers.”

“And music and a church? Oh, Gideon!” She was ready and aching for him again.

“But first—” He rose up on his elbow, settling her against the pillow and turning her away. He touched his fingertip to her back near her left shoulder. “There it is! Your legendary birthmark.”

“Do you mean the pale oval?”

“Shaped just like the orb. It’s quite lovely. I’ve been wanting to kiss you here since the moment you mentioned it.”

“Do, then. Please do!” He kissed her shoulder, toyed with her nipple, making it difficult to answer. Or care. She sighed and reached her arms around him.

“The mark of the Guardian—” he kissed her shoulder again, then covered her with his fine, warm body. “Perhaps that’s where the glow of the orb will live until it’s needed again: inside your heart.”

“And yours, Gideon! My true love.”

* * *

* * *

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed the story of Josie and Gideon — 1940: Josie, the fourth in The Legend of Nimway Hall series. Bringing these two people to life and getting to know them was an enormous pleasure for me.

Learning about the English Home Front during World War II was as delightful as it was harrowing. I set the story in September and October of 1940 because it was the early days of the war, the Blitz was raining terror on the British people, food rationing was increasing, the men were in uniform and the women were waging their own war in the kitchen, the fields and the factories.

I loved the idea of bringing the war to Nimway Hall and to Josie, the ancient estate’s courageous Guardian. As the story opens, we find her knee-deep in evacuee children, Land Girls, the local Home Guard, a much-reduced estate staff, two cranky tractors and her widowed father she has just rescued from the London Blitz. Her days and nights are chock-full of wartime charity fund raisers, meeting the strict requirements of the Ministries of Agriculture and Food, organizing knitting circles, leading her local Women’s Volunteer Service, tending the acres of orchards, the mill, and fields of grain.

Most amazing to me is that Josie’s is just one of the many millions of women and men on the English home front who worked their normal jobs by day and served as civilian soldiers by night, often with no sleep in between. The threat of invasion was real and on-going, and I have only the deepest respect for the brave and devoted members of that generation.

My own mother was a ‘Rosie the Riveter’ on the American home front, my father was a radioman on a ship on the Pacific front.

Indeed, the Greatest Generation. This is their story.

Come find me at my website where you can sign up for my newsletter, linger over my booklist, and learn of my many adventures!

Enjoy!

Linda