“I’m yer new cook,” Widow Reeves said.
Widow Brodie couldn’t have looked happier. “And I’m to help with the cows and chickens and goats. Widow MacThune is to ha’ her own lacemaking shop, and Widow Grier’s to be yer laundress, and—”
“But we can’t,” Murian replied. “What about Will? Who will help him?”
“Ye can leave tha’ to me,” Ian said. “I’m too old to be traipsin’ across the world.” He put his arm about Will. “I’ll be here to help Will, and we’ll ha’ the duke’s assistance, too.”
“Many of my men are through with war,” Spencer said. “They’ll need a place to call their own, too. Neither Rowallen nor Will will lack assistance.”
Max took Murian’s hand and tugged her around so that she faced him. She didn’t know what to say or what to do. “You’ve been busy,” she said.
“Too much so, if you ask me!” Tata Natasha said, holding out her glass for Spencer to refill. “Can we have cake now? I’m starving!”
“Not yet,” Spencer said. “But soon.”
“Ignore her,” Max ordered Murian. “Ignore them all, and listen to me. Just this once.” He kissed her fingers, his lips warm, his gaze never leaving hers. “I know you’ve given everything for this estate and these people. If I thought moving this castle to Oxenburg would bring you to me, I would move it rock by rock with my bare hands.
“But it dawned on me that you do not love the castle at all. You love these people who made Rowallen your home. So I asked them to help me win you. To help me avoid the saddest day of my life, which would be one in which I do not see you, cannot hold you, cannot be with you. I love you, Murian. I love you more every time I see you.”
He took a deep breath, and added, “But you should know that I am a soldier. I cannot change that. And I cannot promise you forever. But I can promise I will love you as long as I am breathing, and more.”
She looked into his eyes and saw his love, felt it in her own heart as if he’d placed it there. And looking past him, she saw her people and his, his grandmother and Spencer, Will and Ian, all of them silently urging her to accept his love.
They didn’t need to make such an effort.
She returned her gaze to his. “I suppose I should pack.”
For a long second, he merely stared at her. Then he swept her into his arms and spun her around, kissing her until she was dizzy.
“Finally!” Tata Natasha said. “Now we can have cake!”
Epilogue
Oxenburg
Carriages lined the street near the wharf where The Tempest was moored. She was a proud ship, a ruddy clipper that took a large crew. Max had taken Murian to sea for their honeymoon. After four months of wedding preparation, which had been both too long of a time and too short, they’d had a quiet wedding. Quiet, that is, by royal standards. By Max’s standards, it had been agonizingly formal. Though Oxenburg custom dictated that the bride and groom should not visit one another alone until after the wedding, someone—he suspected Tata Natasha—had obligingly placed Murian in a guest room on the second floor. Therefore he was never placed in danger when climbing the trellis into her room each night.
The second he’d seen Murian coming down the aisle dressed in her wedding gown decorated with silver thread, though, he’d forgotten every complaint he’d had about the too-long wait. God, he loved her. And now she was his, and he was hers.
After the wedding they’d spent six glorious weeks traveling the ocean, visiting faraway ports and luxuriating in each other’s company. They’d have sailed longer, but he was needed at home. Though Napoleon had been captured and the war declared over, there were still loose ends that needed tying up.
He smiled down at Murian now, noting how the sun had brought out the freckles on her nose. Had they not been in public, he’d have kissed it, tracing a line between her freckles and—
But there would be time enough for that later. They were home now and soon they’d go to his favorite house, where Murian’s people awaited them.
He could not get Murian home fast enough.
“General!” Orlov strode forward. “The coach awaits.”
“Good.” Max grinned. “Orlov, I hear we are to depart for France.”
“In three weeks’ time.”
“Very well.” Max watched as Murian arranged a stack of bandboxes so that some of her new purchases would be near the top. Dressed in the latest fashions, her silk gown teased by the sea winds, she looked healthy and happy, though she’d been plagued with seasickness these last few weeks. “How long will we be gone?” he asked Orlov.
Orlov followed Max’s gaze to Murian and smiled. “Two months, no more.”
“Good. And our men?”
“They have been notified and will be ready.”
He grasped Orlov’s shoulder. “It is good to be home, my friend.”
“It is good to have you home. Lady Murian’s people have readied the house. Katrina is jealous you are to have such a cook.”
“Widow Reeves is worth her weight in gold.”
“Indeed. I will have your luggage loaded, General. Welcome home.” Orlov inclined his head and made his way to where Murian stood with her bandboxes.
Max caught sight of a large man dressed in fine clothes striding down the wharf, a red cloak whipping about his shoulders.
“Alexsey!” Max hugged his brother, smacking him on the shoulders as hard as he could by way of greeting. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I had to come,” Alexsey said simply.
“You wear your court dress. You have been with our father and mother?”
Alexsey’s smile faltered. “Actually, I was—”
“Alexsey!” Murian joined them, and Alexsey’s grin returned and he swept her into a hug.
“Unhand my wife,” Max ordered.
“I will, once I’ve kissed her.” Alexsey kissed Murian’s cheek. “Bronwyn sends her regards.”
“She didn’t come with you?” Murian asked.
“Nyet.” Alexsey couldn’t keep the pride from his face. “Her condition makes travel difficult.”
“Her condition?” Max repeated blankly.
“Alexsey!” Murian gave an excited hop and then threw her arms about her brother-in-law. “We didn’t know! Why didn’t you tell us? All those boring letters from the both of you and neither of you said a word!”
Alexsey laughed. “We wished to surprise you.”
“We are surprised,” Max said. “I’ll wager Tata Natasha is ecstatic.”
Alexsey’s smile dimmed. “That is why I am here.” He looked around and then stepped forward to say in a lowered voice, “Tata Natasha has disappeared.”
“Disappeared? From her home?”
“Nyet. She was traveling through Scotland on her way back from visiting Wulf and Lily.”
Wulf was their youngest brother, and he’d lately been spending time with his wife’s family and their friend, the Duchess of Roxburghe.
Murian frowned. “Why was Tata Natasha visiting Wulf?”
“Lily has not been well, so Tata Natasha went to offer her help. Whatever she did for Lily seemed to work, for Wulf says she’s better. But then Tata Natasha left, and we’ve had no word for three weeks.”
“Bloody hell. I should go over there—”
“There’s no need. Nik was in London; he’s traveling north as we speak. He’ll find her.”
Max nodded, relieved. “I didn’t know Nik was in London.”
Alexsey didn’t look pleased. “Neither did I until this happened. Our brother has become far too secretive.”
“Aye. I think so, too.”
Murian slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “I wonder if Tata Natasha will be found staying in the home of a spirited single Scottish lass?”
“I don’t know,” Max said. “She is far more frail than she seems. She shouldn’t be traveling at all.”
Murian hid a smile, for she suspected Max was the only member of his family to believe
such a thing. Seeing his worried face, she squeezed his arm. “I suppose the only way we can keep Tata Natasha at home is to have as many great-grandchildren as possible.”
Max smiled. “That would help.”
“Thankfully, Bronwyn and I have that task well under control.”
There was a silence. Max’s gaze locked upon her lips, as if he could see the words she’d just spoken.
Then Alexsey gave a huge whoop, while Max swooped her up and buried his face in her neck. She hugged him back, laughing softly as he held her aloft.
When he slid her back to her feet, he pressed a fervent kiss to her forehead. “How long have you known?”
“For two weeks.”
“And you’re certain?”
“Very certain. That’s why I’ve been sick every morning.” She curled her nose. “I am so glad to be off that ship!”
He cupped her face between his hands. “And I’m so glad I have you here, with me.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, soft and gentle, a promise in the caress.
She kissed him back, content and pleased, and he slipped a protective arm about her shoulders as they turned to walk to the carriage.
She smiled happily. This was love. They shared and encouraged. They teased and sometimes argued. Such was the way with people of passion. But whatever happened, she knew where she belonged: with Max and her loved ones.
She tucked her arm about him and hurried him to the carriage, grinning when he chuckled at her impatience. “Come, Max. Let’s go home.”
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About the Author
Photo by Michael Cairns
KAREN HAWKINS is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of many wickedly funny historical romance novels set in Regency Scotland, including the wildly popular MacLean Curse series, the enchanting Hurst Amulet series, the funny and charming Duchess Diaries series, and now the romantic Oxenburg Princes series. Karen is also the author of two sassy contemporary romances set in the little town of Glory, North Carolina.
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The Prince Who Loved Me
The Prince and I
The Duchess Diaries Series
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How to Pursue a Princess
How to Entice an Enchantress
Princess in Disguise
The Hurst Amulet Series
One Night in Scotland
Scandal in Scotland
A Most Dangerous Profession
The Taming of a Scottish Princess
The MacLean Curse Series
How to Abduct a Highland Lord
To Scotland, With Love
To Catch a Highlander
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Lois Lane Tells All
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Pocket Books
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 by Karen Hawkins
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Interior design by Yvonne Chan
Cover illustration by Alan Ayers
ISBN 978-1-4767-8597-4
ISBN 978-1-4767-8609-4 (ebook)
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
About the Author
The Prince and I Page 30