Morwen felt a sudden choking in her throat, because their fortunes had never been stable, but for now, at least, they were safe. And she couldn’t wait to tell Ran as much.
She saw him before he saw her, tall and virile, and so very dear to her, striding towards the linhays where the clay blocks were drying in the sun, ready for despatching. She called his name, but her voice was choked with emotion and carried away by the summer breeze. He couldn’t have heard it from that distance, but he turned instinctively.
She saw his face change, and he dropped the sheaf of papers he was carrying and ran towards her as she slid from her horse. He grasped her hands, and spoke swiftly.
‘What is it, dar? Is it Emma? Dear God, don’t tell me she’s worse—’
‘It’s not Emma,’ Morwen stuttered, speechless for once, now that the moment was here. ‘She’s improving by the minute. I’ve got some good news to tell you—’
He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her towards Walter’s little hut. Walter was nowhere around, but in any case, Morwen didn’t want him now. This was too stupendous a moment, too private, too intimate, to be shared, even with her beloved Walter. Inside the hut, Ran kicked the door shut behind them, and she blinked to accustom her eyes to the dimness after the brightness outside.
‘So tell me your news,’ he demanded. ‘After giving me that little scare, it had better be really good!’
He was masculine and arrogant in his relief, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered but that they were free of all worries. But, just like Charlotte, she was unable to speak, and she held out the newspaper mutely, letting him read it for himself. Joy almost exploded out of him when he’d finished, and he swept his wife into his arms.
‘This is all your doing, honey. Your instincts did this, in pushing that woman out of harm’s way.’
‘Charlotte said as much, but my instincts are not always to be trusted,’ she said shakily. ‘They almost scared me to death when I thought fate was going to rob us of all our daughters.’
‘Sometimes you can be a crazy woman,’ he said, with a small indulgent shake of his head.
But his arms were around her now, and love flowed between them like a tide. His hands were in her tangled hair, and to him she was as spectacularly beautiful as the day he’d first seen her, so many years ago, when she belonged to someone else, and he’d wanted her so much.
‘I’m sorry—’ she mumbled.
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ he said. ‘Nothing matters except that we have each other.’
She leaned into him, drawing on his strength, and so glad to relinquish her own.
‘Oh Ran, I do love you, and no matter where else my wild imagination takes me, I can’t imagine life without you.’
His kiss was gentle on her lips, but with all the passion she knew was hers for the taking.
‘You don’t have to,’ he said softly.
Next in The Cornish Clay Sagas:
Primmy’s Daughter
A moving tale of love and war, Primmy’s Daughter is a beautiful and absorbing saga, ideal for fans of Lesley Pearse, Lyn Andrews and Rosie Goodwin
Find out more
First published in the USA in 1995 by Severn House Publishers Inc
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
57 Shepherds Lane
Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU
United Kingdom
Copyright © Rowena Summers, 1995
The moral right of Rowena Summers to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788634700
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Family Shadows Page 37