Mary: To Protect Her Heart (Other Pens, Mansfield Park Book 3)
Page 13
“I have nothing to fear from you, Mr. Durward.”
“You are sitting on my lap, I think that allows you to call me either Gabriel or Gabe.”
“And will you call me Mary?”
He nodded. “Forever, if I am so fortunate.”
“I will not refuse,” Mary whispered.
He reached down with his bandaged arm to retrieve something from between his leg and the chair. “I likely should not give this to you until we have married, but I am not always a patient man.” He held out a small box. “Will you have me for your husband?”
Mary took the box and, opening it, gasped. Inside was a golden ring with a diamond surrounded by fifteen small rubies in the shape of a heart.
“You are my heart,” Gabe said when she looked up from the beautiful ring to his face. “And I would give my very life to see you safe and happy.”
Her lips quivered as happy tears gathered in her eyes. “You already have, or at least, you attempted to.”
“I would do it again,” he said as he stroked a finger along her cheek. “I need no warehouses, no business deals, no prize ships, or their bounty to be happy, Mary. I need only you, for you are my prize of greatest value. Please say you will be my wife.”
Mary nodded and smiled as tears slid down her cheek. She placed the box and ring in her lap and cupped his face in her hands. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you, you dear, dear man. How could I not marry you when you hold my heart? I shall not love any other.” She kissed him lightly.
“Kiss me again,” he whispered, his dark desire-filled eyes held hers.
As she pressed her lips against his once again, he pulled her close, his bandaged hand cupping the back of her head. Slowly, he moved his lips over hers as if savoring every touch. Then, he pressed into the kiss more firmly, causing a swirl of lovely warm feelings to course through her, and as she sighed with pleasure, he delved deeper, tasting her teeth and flicking her tongue with his as his uninjured hand slid upward from where it held her at her waist until it rested just below her breast. With a groan, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. Her hands which had tangled themselves in his hair, returned to cup his face.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“And I you,” he replied. “And…” He pulled back and waited until she looked at him. “I shall never, ever let you take on water.”
Such a statement could only be replied to in one way, and as desire once again built in them while they kissed and caressed one another, Mary knew that her heart had finally found a home where it would be protected. Always.
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Turn the page to read an excerpt of another one of Leenie’s books
Tom: To Secure His Legacy Excerpt
[Other Pens, Mansfield Park, Episode 4 begins where Mary’s story ends and follows Tom Bertram as he attempts to become all that he should be while not losing his heart in the process.]
from Chapter 1
Morning crept its way across the room, first spilling over the windowsill and then creeping across the floor before slipping through the gap in the bed curtains.
Tom Bertram tossed an arm across his eyes to block its advance. He did not wish to wake just yet. There was a beautiful angel singing to him as she blotted his face with a cool cloth, and if he waited just a moment longer, he might be able to open his eyes in his dream and finally see her face.
He groaned. It was no use.
His angel had flown away once again, and he was left with only a memory of her voice.
He stretched and slowly rose to a sitting position. He needed to get dressed and start his day. He knew he needed to, but he had little desire to do so. Being responsible was far less enjoyable than being reckless.
He groaned again as he straightened his leg. Being reckless did come with its own set of complaints. His leg hurt less than it used to, but it was still a trial. Thankfully, according to the physician, the break had knit together as it should. However, the leg was still not as strong as Tom would like it to be, and it did ache rather a lot in the mornings after being motionless for so long as he slept.
He pushed his way out of his covers and, taking up the cane that stood next to his bed, he rose. Within half an hour’s time, he would be able to rise without the use of the blasted thing, but first thing in the morning, he could not. It was as if his muscles protested rising more than his brain did.
After pulling the bell for his man, Tom began what he could of his ablutions while waiting.
“Your paper is waiting for you below,” his valet said as he entered the room.
Reading the paper first thing in the morning, just like rising while it was still morning, was new for Tom. Being a respectable and responsible gentleman seemed to have many unsavoury costs. However, if he wished to recover even part of what he had lost of his and his brother’s inheritance in his dissolute days, he must learn the part of a duty-bound gentleman. It was not his natural bent. It should be, but it was not.
He lifted his chin so that his man could complete his shaving.
It would likely be easier to face both the morning and his future prospects with greater equanimity if he had gone to bed at an earlier hour.
He chuckled to himself. Was that not what his father always scolded? Tom, a baronet does not while away his hours in pleasure to the harm of his estate. That was a lesson hard learned.
Tom dried his face and began the work of making himself presentably attired.
Before he began any study of his new gambling haunts today, he had a friend upon whom to call – a friend who was both fortunate to have survived the night and the reason for Tom’s lack of rest.
It had been a late night, waiting to see if Gabe had recovered his boat. And then, there had been the time at Gabe’s house while Tom had waited to hear the surgeon’s evaluation of his friend’s injuries.
Today promised to be one of great interest, for Gabe had promised to share the harrowing tale of his ordeal, and then…
Tom chuckled to himself as his man tied his cravat.
“Mr. Durward is planning to give up his bachelor state,” Tom said to his man.
“My congratulations,” his man replied.
“He is hoping to tie himself to Miss Crawford.”
“Miss Crawford?” The man before him blinked. “The lady that was at Mansfield?”
Tom nodded. “The very one. Will not Edmund be shocked when I invite Mr. and Mrs. Durward for a visit someday?”
“Indeed!”
“She has changed,” Tom added. “Fanny will be pleased to see the transformation. I am not certain how my brother will receive it. He is more reticent in things than his wife.”
He gave himself a looking over in the mirror. He did cut a dashing figure even when he was being respectable.
“Have there been any letters from Mansfield?”
“No, sir, none yesterday and so far, none today. There were some invitations, which have been placed in your study.”
Tom’s least favourite room in his entire life had been the study. He still had to remind himself not to shudder at the word.
The study here in town was his, and his alone. His father had given him sole control of this town house after Tom had recovered from his illness ready to take on a new life – one that was not given over to pleasure. Therefore, this study, since it was his and his alone, did not have to be one of criticism and scolding. This study could be an agreeable and even friendly place.
He loved his father, but theirs was not a close relationship. He would not
be as his father was. He would attempt to encourage his children to do well, of course, but not in the same way his father had. He would smile and praise his children from the beginning rather than waiting until one of them had been lost to her willful ways and another had nearly killed himself trying to be as unlike his father as was humanly possible.
“Would you see that some breakfast is sent to me in my study?”
“Of course, sir.”
“And the paper,” he called after his man.
He blew out a breath. It was time to begin in earnest his work of recouping his losses, although he had to admit that he was not entirely certain he understood all the workings of investing. Gabe would likely be able to help him find places to put his money that would earn him a healthy – but secure – return.
Gambling was not new to Tom. He had lost plenty of money at card tables, races, and the like. However, speculating on shares and such was different. There was still the possibility of gain or loss, but the money he was using seemed to be somehow more valuable.
It was not, of course.
The money had not changed one wit. It was Tom who had changed. He saw things in such a different way now since his angel had saved his life those many long months ago. Perhaps if he were very fortunate, one day, he would get to see her face and thank her for her service. But for now, he would have to satisfy himself with his memories of her care and her songs.
Acknowledgements
There are many who have had a part in the creation of this story. Some have read and commented on it. Some have proofread for grammatical errors and plot holes. Others have not even read the story and a few, I know, will never read it. However, their encouragement and belief in my ability, as well as their patience when I became cranky or when supper was late or the groceries ran low, was invaluable.
And so, I would like to say thank you to Zoe, Rose, Betty, Kristine, Ben, and Kyle. I feel blessed through your help, support, and understanding.
I have not listed my dear husband in the above group because, to me, he deserves his own special thank you, for without his somewhat pushy insistence that I start sharing my writing, none of my writing goals and dreams would have been met.
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For those who might be interested in some of the topics touched upon in this book (such as privateering), I have some of my research sources along with some visual inspiration pinned to a board on Pinterest. You can find that board at this link.
Other Leenie B Books
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where you can explore the collections below
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About the Author
Leenie Brown has always been a girl with an active imagination, which, while growing up, was both an asset, providing many hours of fun as she played out stories, and a liability, when her older sister and aunt would tell her frightening tales. At one time, they had her convinced Dracula lived in the trunk at the end of the bed she slept in when visiting her grandparents!
Although it has been years since she cowered in her bed in her grandparents’ basement, she still has an imagination which occasionally runs away with her, and she feeds it now as she did then ─ by reading!
Her heroes, when growing up, were authors, and the worlds they painted with words were (and still are) her favourite playgrounds! Now, as an adult, she spends much of her time in the Regency world, playing with the characters from her favourite Jane Austen novels and those of her own creation.
When she is not traipsing down a trail in an attempt to keep up with her imagination, Leenie resides in the beautiful province of Nova Scotia with her two sons and her very own Mr. Brown (a wonderful mix of all the best of Darcy, Bingley, and Edmund with a healthy dose of the teasing Mr. Tilney and just a dash of the scolding Mr. Knightley).
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