CHAPTER TEN

"Do you believe that? Do you believe that love always wins?" she asked with a smile and a hint of pink on her skin.

"I've been on this property a long time, and I've come to know all of these amazing people very well. Love does seem to be the answer to their world. Always. I've never seen anything quite like it."

They left the cafeteria, and Marcel took her hand, linking it in the crook of his elbow. It was very sweet, very old-fashioned, and Amy loved it.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"I should very much like to spend every moment I can with you," he said.

"Surely, you've had many women, I mean, in your time. What if you don't like this version of woman? The twenty-first-century version." Marcel chuckled, shaking his head.

"Amy, it wouldn't matter what time period you come from. You are a beautiful, intelligent woman. One that I desperately feel a need for."

"Oh. I-I feel the same," she said, staring up at him. "What do we do now?"

"I'm not sure I'm the one who can answer that," he smiled. "In my day, I would ask permission to court you. We would appear publicly together in the company of your parents or another chaperone. It would last months."

She turned him toward the maze, stopping at the first turn and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"My parents are gone, and in this time, that takes far too long. Whether I have you for one hour, one day, one month, one year, or a lifetime, I want to spend every moment we have together. I know you can't promise me tomorrow, but let me have today." She reached for his shoulders, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer.

Marcel didn't mistake that signal. It was the signal he wanted. Gripping her waist, he held her close, devouring her beautiful mouth. He was very happy to realize that everything on his body was working perfectly. His cock immediately awakened and was hungry. Very, very hungry.

"Amy, Amy, my sweet angel, I'm not sure that I can control myself," he said in a raspy voice in her ear.

"Then don't. Take me back to the cottage and make love to me, Marcel." Marcel did not need to be told twice.

The couple practically jogged to the cottage. Once inside, Marcel was incredibly nervous, so Amy took over. She removed her clothing, standing proudly in front of him. She was full, curvy, with soft hips and thighs. Unlike many women of her time, she still had a thick patch of hair between her legs, and Marcel practically growled his approval.

When he removed his own clothing, Amy was stunned at the beautiful body. He looked like a modern-day athlete, rippling with muscle. His skin was tanned, the manly triangle of hair on his chest sending shivers down her body. Noticing the scars, she reached to touch them.

"A rather unpleasant sword fight," he smirked, lifting her fingers and kissing them.

"I'm glad you survived." He nodded, then pressed his flesh to hers. Two hundred years of longing and desire surfaced in one fell swoop.

"I need you, Amy."

"Same," she said breathlessly, taking his mouth once again.

He lifted her to the bed, lying beside her as they began exploring their bodies. Just as Marcel was about to enter her, she looked down and wondered about condoms. Did ghosts, or former ghosts, need condoms? What if she got pregnant, and he went back to ghost form?

At that moment, she didn't care. She would have a child from love because she knew that this is what she was feeling. Love.

"You feel delightfully warm and tight," he growled. "It pleases me."

"I'm glad," she smiled, "because you feel incredibly thick and long. That pleases me."

"Tell me what else will please you," he whispered, thrusting in and out of her.

"All of you. Having all of you," she cried out.

In the early morning hours, they finally rose to shower and change their clothes. They'd made love on and off through the night, sleeping only in short intervals, needing to feel one another. Every time Amy woke, she wanted to touch him to be sure he wasn't gone.

Marcel ran back to his own gar?onnière and gathered some things to bring back with him. Amy was already making coffee when he walked in. He wanted more of her but knew that her lips were swollen and sore from his vigorous exploration.

"What if we made a child?" he frowned.

"Then we will raise him or her together. If, if the worst happens, I will always have something to remember you by. I will love him or her forever and raise it close to your family. Here."

"I believe I am in love with you, Amy." He pulled her close again, holding her, smelling her shampoo.

"I believe I am in love with you, too, Marcel." The door to the cottage flew open, and hurricane Irene charged in.

"Well, that's good, ‘cause y'all are gettin' married," said Irene, storming through the front door. Gaspar and Matthew were close behind.

"Irene, I do not wish to force Amy to marry me. What if she's left alone if I go back to the way I was?"

"That's why you're gettin' married," she said. "I think it'll make it permanent. I had to be sure y'all were in love, but I heard you. You love one another. That's a bond that nothin' can break. Time to make this thing real. Let's go."

"B-but how? I mean, how did you hear it from out there?" asked Amy.

"Remember what I said, Amy," smiled Gaspar. "Strange things happen here. Miraculous things. Let's get you two married and pray that this will all be a permanent thing."

"Y-you don't have to," she said, looking up at Marcel. He smiled, then threw his head back in laughter.

"Have to? Woman, I demand to marry you. Please. Please, do me the honor of making me your husband," he begged.

"Yes," she laughed. "Yes."

"That's good," smiled Matthew, "because she's having twins."

"What?" they both screamed.

"Mr. Matthew, we only just made love last night," she said with a blush.

"Trust me. I know these things. You're having twins. Let's go. Gotta get you two hitched."

By the time lunch rolled around there was a wedding in the grove with everyone present. When Marcel said, ‘I do,' and Amy repeated, he bent and kissed her. Golden light and flakes floated around them like gold-covered confetti. Amy gripped his shoulders, hoping to hold him there, just in case.

But there was nothing to worry about. She pulled back, and he was there. Alive. Warm. His heart was beating faster than ever before.

"Told ‘ya," said Irene, smiling at them. "It's permanent. You found the love you were meant to have, and now it's done. Congratulations."

"We're married," he smiled. "I love you, wife."

"I love you, husband. My savior. My angel," she grinned. Matthew cleared his throat, winking at Marcel.

"Let's go," said Irene. "We got food ready. No talk of scammers today."

"How did she know about that?" asked Amy. Marcel just chuckled, shaking his head.

"She knows more than anyone I know. Trust her."

As the party began, Gaspar walked toward his father, smiling.

"Did you do that, Pops? Did you give them this gift?"

"Well, now, I can't say I did, and I can't say I didn't. Marcel paid a long price of being betrayed, and he's been loyal to our family, even in death. Amy's own family helped him once upon a time. She's as good as they come. They deserved a second chance together." Gaspar stared at his father, always looking for something new, something he might have missed.

"I'm still your father, Gaspar," smiled Matthew. "I'll always be the man who taught you to tie knots and fish in the bayou. I'm your Pops."

"Yes, you are," he smiled, kissing his father's temple. "Yes, you are."