by Cheryl Holt
“I will.” Isabelle giggled. “But not too much kissing!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Bryce said.
“Not until you’re married.”
“Which will be very, very soon.”
Isabelle ran off, and Bryce snuggled next to Kat, being enveloped in the warmth of the wool. It was December and the temperature icy. The wind made it feel even colder.
Once Isabelle had skittered away, Kat said, “Tell me the truth. Did you kill Captain Romilard?” So far on the trip, he’d refused to confide any details of the encounter.
“Will you be upset if I say yes?”
“I won’t be upset. I will be delighted.”
“Then yes. I killed him for what he had done to me in Egypt, for every insult he ever leveled at you, and so he couldn’t rush to Kristof’s chambers and release him one second earlier than I wanted him released.”
“My hero.” She batted her lashes at him. “If Romilard is dead, I don’t have to worry about him, but what about Kristof? Will he send guards to England? Will he try to take us back?”
“The road behind us has been empty ever since we left Parthenia. Maybe he convinced himself that you aren’t worth the bother.”
“Maybe, but I’m concerned about Nicholas and Isabelle. Remember in Egypt? We had several kidnapping attempts.”
“We’ll spend most of our time in Scotland, so any foreign strangers would stick out like a sore thumb. They wouldn’t be able to get within ten miles of Radcliffe without someone notifying us.”
“I’ll hope that remains true.”
He pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “Don’t be afraid. I would never let anything bad happen to you.”
“I know.”
They stood silently for a bit, enjoying the sway of the ship, the caw of the gulls overhead.
“I’m happy,” he said.
“So am I.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever marry.”
“I thought I would, but I figured it would be a political union, forged under a treaty to some aging despot whom I couldn’t abide.”
He grinned. “I saved you from that fate at least.”
“And I will always be grateful.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Of course.”
“There’s no going back,” he reminded her.
“There’s no going back for you either. If you wake up some morning and decide it’s exhausting to have a house full of royals, I don’t want to hear a word of complaint.”
“I’m starting to like it,” he claimed.
She snorted. “I’ll ask you in six months and see how you reply.”
He pointed to their four siblings, who were merrily chatting. “My family is growing by leaps and bounds. For so long, it was just me on my own. I never believed I could change my situation.”
“You were likely wary of changing it too. After discovering how quickly stable things can fall apart, it definitely makes a person cautious.”
“It definitely does,” he concurred.
In their frantic dash across Europe, he’d shared the heartbreaking tale about his parents. Kat couldn’t imagine what it must have been like, especially for Anne Blair, with her husband deceased, her children being so little, and her not being able to stay with them.
Kat wished she could argue that her own family was better, less cruel and less greedy, but the Morovsky clan had no right to brag. Kristof had proven her kin possessed as much avarice and malice as anyone. Yet Kat had only had to suffer tragedy and turmoil for two years. Bryce had suffered from the time he was a tiny boy.
He was such a fine man, strong and faithful, steady and devoted. He’d overcome every obstacle, had raised himself to heights that seemed impossible when his rough beginnings were considered.
His brothers were the same, had both achieved remarkable feats. What extraordinary men they all were.
Their sister was searching for their mother, optimistically hoping the woman might still be alive. If Evangeline could locate her, she intended to bring her to England, to have her pardoned and reunited with her children. Kat secretly vowed—as an unspoken wedding gift to her husband—that she would spend any amount of her fortune necessary to find out what had happened to Anne Blair.
It would be a way to show her immense gratitude to the Blair family. When she and her siblings had been alone in the world, when they hadn’t had a friend who would dare to stand by them, the Blair brothers had stepped forward. The Blair brothers had offered their loyalty and protection. Kat could never fully repay that debt.
Bryce was nervous about Kat’s decision to wed him. He assumed he was too far beneath her, that she’d ultimately regret it. He thought he was reaching too high, but Kat was the one who’d garnered much more than she deserved.
Who wouldn’t want to marry Bryce Blair? He was handsome, dashing, brave, trustworthy, and wickedly fun. Who wouldn’t want him? Who wouldn’t love him?
She probably should have left him in peace, should have let some other woman have him. But it was her heart’s demand that—for once—she not be selfless, that she not be noble. For once, she would take what she desired—without reflection, without apology.
She’d cherished the title of Her Royal Highness, but she couldn’t wait to be Mrs. Bryce Blair and Lady Radcliffe instead. She was a princess who no longer had a home or a country or a place to call her own. Yet she had Bryce Blair, which meant she had much more than she would ever need.
The ship maneuvered past the jetty, the waves growing bigger as they headed into open water. The sails cracked and snapped in the sharper breeze. Sea spray splashed over the bow, wetting them, and they laughed and twirled in circles.
The captain approached and asked, “Shall we proceed, Lord Radcliffe?”
Bryce smiled at Kat. “Last chance. Are you still sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“You’ll be mine now.”
“And you’ll be mine.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Matthew, Michael, Isabelle, and Nicholas came over and stood behind them. Isabelle had a few flowers she hadn’t tossed into the ocean. She gave them to Kat, and Nicholas clasped her arm and turned her to Bryce.
“She’s yours, Mr. Blair,” he solemnly said. “Swear to me you’ll always take care of her.”
“I always will, Your Grace,” Bryce responded just as seriously. “Don’t worry for a single second. I will go to my grave taking care of her.”
Michael grinned at Bryce. “I’m trying to picture Evangeline’s expression when we walk into Radcliffe Castle not only with you, but with an entire family in tow. What will she have to say?”
“She’ll say she had no idea I was smart enough to make myself so happy.” He gazed at Kat. “Are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready my whole life.”
They faced the captain, and he opened an old, tattered prayer book, but he didn’t need to glance at the words to recite them. It was an abbreviated version of the vows, but the most important parts were all there. And it was just as binding as it would have been if they’d been standing in a cathedral in London.
“Dearly beloved…” he began.
Bryce squeezed her hand as tightly as he could. “That’s what you are. My dearly beloved, and you always will be.”
Kat peered up into his blue, blue eyes, and she felt safe, protected, and adored.
When the captain asked, “Your Highness, Katarina Victoria Sasha Webster Morovsky, do you take this man, Bryce Blair, Lord Radcliffe, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
She could only answer, “Oh, yes, I definitely do. For now and forevermore.”
EPILOGUE(S)
“A princess—of all things!”
“Yes, a real princess. What do you think of that?”
Evangeline smiled at Bryce. “Of all the surprises you might have brought home, it’s the last I would have expected. But, dear brother, a princess is precisely what you deserve.”
> “I can’t believe she agreed to have me. My head is still spinning over it.”
“In the bargain, we get to help raise a royal princess and a king. We’ve certainly come up in the world from where we were when you left for Egypt.”
“We certainly have.”
Evangeline gazed around the main receiving hall of Radcliffe Castle. It was packed with people, the Christmas supper about to be served. Servants were running, guests laughing, drinking, and jesting. The Yule log burned in the grate, and musicians were seated in the corner and playing carols.
Christmas morning had started at the chapel in the village with Bryce and Kat repeating their vows. They’d wanted to speak the words with Radcliffe residents looking on, and they’d been intent on writing their names in the church’s Bible where all of the previous earls and countesses had signed after their weddings, their ancestors going back hundreds of years.
In light of the road she and her brothers had all traveled, in light of the difficulties they’d overcome to have Radcliffe returned to them, it had been a poignant and emotional moment.
After the meal was concluded, there would be dancing, cards, games, and other entertainment. She’d invited the important neighbors, the merchants in the surrounding villages, and most of the tenant farmers.
Gradually the castle was blossoming, shucking off its aura of misery and bad luck. The greatest news of all was the title and rank of Bryce’s bride. She had been trained in all the social graces, would know how to manage such a large, sprawling abode. Evangeline didn’t have to worry anymore about how the place would be rebuilt and refurbished to its prior grandeur.
Over the past week, the entire family had arrived, and the fact that she could claim an entire family was particularly thrilling.
Her husband, Aaron, was at the head table, chatting with Katarina. Evangeline and Bryce would join them in a few minutes.
Also at the front, Matthew and Michael sat with their wives, Clarissa and Magdalena. Aaron’s brother, Lucas and his wife Amelia, were seated with them too. Everyone had babies now, with the little ones upstairs and put to bed for the night. The old nursery was packed with so many youngsters Evangeline had had to hire five women from the village to care for them all.
King Nicholas and Princess Isabelle were off at a side table with the other children, and Evangeline thought it an excellent sign that Kat insisted her siblings be seated there, that they not be given special favors or treatment.
Already Nicholas had won over the children in attendance. He was a charming, magnetic boy, and Evangeline expected he would have an amazing future.
“What a fine looking family,” she mused. “We must have good bloodlines.”
“The very best,” Bryce replied.
“When we first crossed paths, did you ever imagine we would end up with such a mob of relatives?”
“No,” Bryce said. “I felt awfully fortunate just to have stumbled on you.”
“I told you I’d locate everybody else.”
“I didn’t believe you.”
They hadn’t found her mother though, but Evangeline had learned she’d survived the treacherous journey to Australia. If she’d survived the trip, why couldn’t she still be alive?
Evangeline had sent many inquires to the foreign country, had hired lawyers and investigators, and she was waiting for any information. It was frustrating that the Earth was so huge and the mail so slow. It took forever to receive a single response.
Evangeline sighed with delight. “Husbands, wives, babies.”
“Step-siblings, in-laws.”
“The room is filled to overflowing. We’re so lucky.”
“Yes, we are.” Bryce grinned down at her. “Have I thanked you for arranging to have Christmas here?”
“Only a hundred times.”
“Make it a hundred and one. Thank you. For all of this. I never thought we could retrieve what was ours.”
“I know, you horrid pessimist. You ran away to Egypt rather than try, but it was much simpler to accomplish than I could ever have predicted.”
“Considering all that happened to me there, I’m wishing I’d remained at home.”
“Then you wouldn’t have met Kat.”
“There is that, I guess.”
“Will you ever tell me how you got that scar on your cheek?”
“No, and if you think that one’s bad, you should see the ones on my back.”
She scowled. “Are you joking? What happened to you? Tell me the truth.”
“Well, I nearly drowned, starved, and perished from typhus. I lost all my possessions. I had to hire on as a laborer. I was set upon by brigands on numerous dire occasions. I was nearly murdered or robbed whenever I turned a corner. I was flogged, sold into slavery, left for dead, and my best friend and I split apart after a dreadful quarrel.” He paused. “Hmm…have I forgotten anything?”
Her scowl deepened. “All of those disasters could not possibly have occurred.”
He chuckled. “Some of them did. I’ll let you decide which of them transpired and which didn’t. But I will say this: I’m staying put. I’ve seen the world, and I don’t need to see it again.”
“I’m glad you made it back safe and sound.”
“So am I. You have no idea.”
Aaron gazed down from the head table, and she gestured to him, visually apprising him she was ready to begin the ceremony she’d planned. He banged his goblet on the wood, like a Viking lord, and the gathering grew silent.
She and Bryce walked down the aisle and stopped at the fireplace where the Yulelog was burning with such cheery flames. She waved to Michael and Matthew, and they rose and joined her. The four Blair siblings faced the crowd.
“As you know by now,” she said, “our father and mother should have been earl and countess here.”
There were nods and murmurs all around.
The tittering died down, and she continued. “Before Bryce departed for Egypt, we were investigating our past. An acquaintance gave us portraits of my parents that my father had commissioned for their wedding. I’ve had them hung in the hall so we will always be able to glance up and see them watching over us.”
The paintings were covered to keep them hidden until this unveiling. She motioned to the servants, and they tugged on the cloths, drawing them away.
And…there they were, so young and gorgeous and extraordinary.
People gasped, clapped, smiled, pointed, and beamed with pleasure.
Her father, Julian, was tall, dark, and handsome. He was attired as the adventurer he’d been in a flowing white shirt, a jaunty kerchief circling his neck. Dangling from a belt on his hip, he wore the sword Bryce had brought with him from Egypt. He was so dashing and charismatic he might have been a hero in a romantic novel.
Her mother, Anne, was beautiful, her exuberance and charm seeming to leap off the canvas. She was dressed in a sapphire gown, and the artist had captured her verve and spirit, her flamboyance and splendor. She appeared merry and mischievous, as if she had spent her life laughing with joy.
Bryce had seen the portraits, but Michael and Matthew had not, so this was their first glimpse with the rest of the room.
The twins looked exactly like their father, while she and Bryce looked exactly like their mother. Both parents had had the most fabulous blue eyes, and their children had inherited those eyes, the Blair eyes. It connected them. It bound them to each other and to their parents.
“Oh, my Lord,” Michael mumbled. “How absolutely stunning.”
“Where did you get them?” Matthew asked.
“Mr. Etherton’s niece had them. She kept them for us.”
Etherton had been their father’s friend. He’d been the only one who’d stood by their mother during her difficulties. He’d arranged for all of them to go to boarding school, had checked on them and watched over them as best he could—which hadn’t been very well at all. The twins had vanished for most of three decades.
She stared at her brothers, s
uch incredible, remarkable men. How had they persevered? How had they thrived?
It had to be due to her parents’ blood running in their veins. It had helped them to carry on and prosper beyond anyone’s imagining. They had been three little lost lords, cast to the winds of fate. But destiny had brought them together again, guiding them to the place they were meant to be.
They were home now—at Radcliffe—where they belonged.
“I’ve had copies made,” she told the twins. “It’s my Christmas gift to you.”
Matthew turned to her and gave her a tight hug. “Sissy, it’s wonderful. How can I thank you?”
“I agree,” Michael said, “and I’d say it’s a few steps beyond wonderful.”
Evangeline smelled the scent of roses, so her mother was close by, letting her know she was happy for what Evangeline had done.
Bryce peered over at the twins. “Did you feel that?”
“The hand on the shoulder?” Michael asked.
“Yes.” They often perceived their father’s presence too, and Bryce peeked up at the ceiling. “I’m glad you’re here, Father. I’m glad you approve.”
Suddenly a burst of wind whistled down the center aisle, and Evangeline worried that the doors had banged open. It was snowing outside, a blizzard possible by morning, but the doors were shut. They were all cozy and warm inside the large chamber.
The gust whipped by and proceeded directly for the fireplace. It blew on the hearth, almost as if a blacksmith was pressing on his bellows. Sparks flew, the flames billowing up, and for a moment, the paintings glowed as if they’d been gilded in golden sunlight.
Then the light waned, the fire calmed, the wind abated, but an eerie sensation lingered, the air charged with an odd energy. People nervously glanced at one another, brows raised, shoulders shrugging.
Bryce looked out at everyone. “I think my father just stopped by to say hello.”
“I think he did too,” Matthew said.
Scotland was a land where ghosts were common, so no one was surprised. The crowd laughed, the tension eased.
“Welcome to my home,” Bryce declared for the first time ever. “While I have always been Bryce Blair to my acquaintances, in the future I plan to call myself Lord Radcliffe, and I hope all of you will refer to me as Radcliffe. When you do, I will know that you fondly remember and honor my father.”