Once Beloved
Page 25
“It’s not meant to make you forget. Set that one aside and try the second one.”
She picked up the glass he’d set on the table and sniffed at it. She could already detect subtle differences—the color was darker, the liquid flowed differently as she tilted the glass, the scent strong but somehow fuller, richer. When she sipped this one, an image flashed through her head of her father, sitting by the fireplace at the end of a long day’s work, a dram of whiskey in his hand as he told stories from the day before sending her and Elizabeth to bed. No wonder the scent of this one was familiar. The intense flavor washed over her. This was quality. This whiskey had character, bold but not overwhelming. History in a glass. She relaxed back in her seat, waiting.
“This one is quite good,” she said. “What’s your point?”
He smiled so broadly, one of those rare full smiles that made her feel as if the sun had burst through a wall of clouds.
“It is very, very good, yes. Care to guess how old this vintage is?”
“Twenty years?”
“Older.”
“Thirty?”
“Older.”
She took another sip and raised a brow at him, unwilling to continue this game indefinitely.
“That one on the table is fifteen years old. Would you believe this one is fifty-two? It’s true. My grandfather brought some barrels of this stuff home with him from one of his trips to Edinburgh. We’re down to our last barrel. That rotgut you tasted first isn’t really so bad, until you have this to compare with it.”
“I see the direction of your thoughts, but this is an imperfect analogy. People do not just sit preserved in casks or barrels as time passes. We work. We wear away over time. We dry up, and our pretty petals fall away.”
“What do I know of analogies? I just enjoy a fine whiskey.” He winked. He actually winked.
Before she could reply, his mouth was on hers, the taste of him mixing with the whiskey. Her thoughts spun apart.
“Women aren’t short-lived flowers plucked from a garden,” he said, when he pulled away for air. His lips still brushed hers as he spoke. “You grow finer with age.” He punctuated his words with teasing kisses. “Stronger.” Another light brush of his lips. “More complex. And I want to drink you in. I want to drown in you. I love you.”
She pulled him toward her, deepening their kiss, and no words were exchanged for quite some time. Still, she couldn’t forget that they were in Honoria’s shop, nor that her boys were somewhere nearby, possibly even in the next row. And so, too soon, she pulled away.
“I love you too, Daniel. I didn’t think we’d have a future together, but with each passing day away from you, I couldn’t bear the possibility of a future without you. I’m so glad you found me!”
More kisses, ardent and clumsy and needy.
This time, Daniel retreated. He released her and took a step back, as if bracing himself. “Before we go further,” he began with a sweet look of chagrin, “I should tell you that I recently received word that Nancy—well, I thought all this time after never hearing from her, even for funds, I thought she’d died. And, anyway, in all this time, I never thought it would matter even if she were still alive. I never thought to have the chance to try again.”
She went to him, taking his face in her hands and pushing away the dread that tried to find purchase in her heart. “What’s happened?”
“I received a letter from her. She’s alive.”
“And does she want you—? Why did she contact you? What does she want?” Daniel loved her as he’d never loved his wife. This, she knew in her bones. Whatever Nancy wanted, they could weather it.
“She loves another and has asked me for a divorce a mensâ et thoro. Even that would be an expense I might not be able to afford.”
“Do you still care for her? Do you want her to return as your wife?”
His glare warmed her heart. Her laconic sweetheart didn’t bother to spare a word in reply.
“My dear, sweet Daniel, at our age, we have little need for formal legalities, don’t you think? We’ve both been through the reading of banns and the signing of certificates. I believe you love me, and I don’t need a piece of paper or a decree from the Church of England to confirm your commitment to me nor mine to you.”
“Are you certain? I’ll grant her the divorce she requests, but I still wouldn’t be free to marry.”
“Rest easy, love,” she replied with a smile, struck by the true sense of freedom and volition between them. “There is no need for all that. Such unmarried but devoted relationships are commonplace. We have both experienced marriage in the traditional sense, and it seems to me that our lives are already complicated enough. Why add a fresh layer of difficulty on top?”
“So you would agree to be my wife in action, though not in name?” He looked and sounded stunned.
“I would! But . . .” She had to be clear. On this one point, her sons, she had to stand unequivocally. “For the sake of the boys, we would live here in London for school terms.”
“That might conflict with some of our busy periods at the farm, but Gordon and I have talked about the possible benefits of having more regular presence here in London, to meet with textile manufacturers and distributors. It could be a new economic avenue for Lanfield.”
“Well, you two can discuss that after dinner this evening.”
“Pardon?” He looked so adorably confused that she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Didn’t you know? Your brother and his wife are here in London,” she explained, an incredible lightness flowing through her. “They came to see me yesterday, and they’re invited to dine at Elizabeth’s house this evening. She sets a fine, full table, and I’m sure she wouldn’t object if I brought you.”
“Nay, wait a moment. Gordon and Ruth are here?”
“Yes! And they’re delightful! I look forward to getting to know Ruth much better. I already suspect the other Needlework ladies would adore her.”
He muttered a creative curse but grinned. “Hal, that little—he must have known his parents had already gone, and yet he said not a word to me about it! Now he’s minding all at home by himself.”
“He seems competent to the task, and he knows the neighbors well. I’m sure you and your brother found yourselves in such circumstances when you were his age.”
“Aye, and it’s true that Hal takes to responsibility well.” Daniel looked both amused and stunned as he thought about these developments. “Well, it’s only right that he and Ruth should be here to share a toast with our family’s whiskey. I can’t believe my brother has come to the big, bad city. He’s always called it a cesspool, teeming with vice and corruption.”
“Well, now he can see for himself that it’s not all fire and brimstone.” She felt suddenly hesitant, reluctant to hope, to believe her desires could be fulfilled. “So you’re staying, at least for a time?”
His insistent kiss was answer enough.
“But, Daniel, what about—?”
He interrupted her question with another kiss, longer and deeper than before. Those telltale flutters began in her belly. She had to voice her thoughts before they fell right out of her head, pushed out by mind-numbing bliss.
“Wait! What about—?”
Again, a silencing kiss that left her legs shaking.
“Shh,” Daniel replied. “I’ve learned a thing or two from you. First and foremost is this: all will be well.” He punctuated the Thorton motto with delicate kisses along her jaw, kisses that melted her very bones. “’Tis true. Whatever problems or conflicts we face, they are surmountable. Whatever we have to do in order to make a life together possible, we shall do. I promise you. All will be well.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “we shall make it so.”
Amara Royce writes historical romances that combine her passion for nineteenth-century literature and history with her addiction to happily-ever-afters. She teaches English literature and composition at a community college in Pennsylvania. When she isn’
t writing, she’s either grading papers or reveling in her own happily-ever-after with her remarkably patient family.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
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Copyright © 2015 by Precie A. Schroyer
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First Electronic Edition: November 2015
ISBN: 978-1-6018-3321-1
First Print Edition: November 2015
ISBN-13: 978-1-60183-322-8
ISBN-10: 1-60183-322-9