Jack shrugged and brushed himself off. “For the hell of it,” he answered glibly, and then turned and took Sophie into his arms.
He kissed her thoroughly, thrusting his hand into her beautiful hair, reveling in the feel of it between his fingers, soft and fine. He looked at her with pride in his heart. “Ready to go, flower?”
Sophia nodded, feeling joy as never before.
He shook his head, chiding her. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this was what you came for?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and said, laughing, “Because it wasn’t any of your business, Mr. MacAuley.”
“Saucy wench!” Jack said, and grinned at her. “Is that any way to speak to your fiancé?”
Sophie ignored Harlan’s lunatic raving. She laughed softly. “Was that your arrogant way of asking me to marry you, Jack MacAuley?” She tilted him a coy look, and he teased her lips with his tongue, biting them softly.
He whispered into her mouth, “I do believe so.”
“Yes,” she said. “Only under one condition...”
“And what might that be?”
“That you let me stay with you... no matter where you are.”
“It’s a deal,” he agreed, sealing the bargain with another kiss. “I’ll just have to make you my new partner.”
“Hey!” Kell protested, though his tone was tinged with laughter.
“We’ll have to discuss the terms in depth,” Sophie assured him, smiling as she caressed the hair at his nape.
“That’s easy enough,” Jack disclosed. “You can have anything you want...”
“I already have everything I want,” Sophie said. “I have you.”
“I’m going to write your father at once, Sophia!” Harlan threatened as Jack lifted her up and carried her away.
“So am I, Harlan,” Sophie assured him, and she sighed as Jack kissed her once more. “I think this is where we’re supposed to sail away into the sunset and live happily ever after,” she proposed.
“How ‘bout we walk into the sunrise instead?”
Sophie laughed and clung to him tighter. “And live in a little white house by the lake?” he asked her playfully.
She nuzzled against him. “A tent will do just fine, thank you very much.”
“A woman after my own heart,” Jack declared.
Penn could have every grant he pleased. He could have the money and the prestige. He could have anything and everything. Jack no longer cared.
All he wanted was the woman in his arms.
EPILOGUE
Sophie worked by the light of a single lamp. She had crawled out of bed once Jack had fallen asleep, even though he had forbidden her to work any longer tonight.
“You’re tired, Sophia,” he’d said. “You can always finish the drawings tomorrow.”
He didn’t understand. She had to finish them tonight, before the image blurred in her mind’s eye. It wasn’t work that compelled her, however. Years ago, she had painted a wedding scene, a perfect replica of the one her mother had dreamed of... except that the bride and groom had had no faces. Somehow, it had never dawned on her why she could not depict them, but now... now she understood with perfect clarity.
She peered back at the bed... they had bought a bed for the ship and nailed it in place. The hammocks just didn’t have enough room for the two of them, and she couldn’t imagine sleeping without his arms wrapped protectively about her. He was so handsome lying in the moonlight, and she hoped she depicted every perfect feature in her drawing. He was beautiful, and she loved him fiercely. And she understood now that she had never loved Harlan at all... that Harlan had never loved her. She understood because never in her life had she felt such a glowing warmth for another human being. It was a joy that touched every aspect of her life, like a brilliant ray of sunshine that penetrated even through the darkest clouds, banishing every shadow.
It was late but she wanted to complete the drawing before the morning when they would reach port in Belize... to send along with her letter home. She hoped her mother would see it and understand. And her father ... she knew he would. As she’d lain in bed with Jack her father’s words of wisdom had come back to her like a light flipped on in the darkness. While she’d worried and fretted how he would view her decision to wed Jack she’d remembered something he’d said to her a night so long ago... a night not so unlike tonight, when she had labored over one of her pieces. She had been only eight years old then, but the memory of it was as clear now as though it were yesterday that he had knelt at her bedside.
“Sometimes it takes a lot more courage,” he’d said, “to follow your own dreams instead of those of the ones you love.”
Well, she was following her own dreams now, and she was happier than she’d ever been in her life. And she had so much joy in her heart that wanted everyone to be as happy as she was!
She finished the painting at last, and stared at it.
A pristine white gazebo, decorated with pure snow-white ribbons, sat in stark contrast to the opulent green lawns of her sprawling family home. Golden rays of sunshine penetrated a vibrant, rich green canopy of trees, and shone down like the touch of God himself on the couple in the gazebo. On the horizon, shiny black horses galloped in a distant meadow. She wondered if her father would understand its significance. She wondered if he would remember the tale he’d told her. She couldn’t live their lives for them, or even counsel them in matters she had no right to. But it wasn’t too late for them. It was never too late as long as there was breath in the body.
Satisfied with the results, she set the painting aside, lifted the pen, and withdrew a clean sheet of paper from Jack’s desk.
She began to write.
September 12, 1899
Dearest Mother and Father,
Please forgive me for having taken so long to write. I do hope your visit abroad was lovely as ever.
You will be quite relieved to know I did not murder Harlan, after all. In fact, I have much to thank him for. And oh, I got married, though not to Harlan, I’m pleased to say. I will explain everything in detail when I return to Boston—as soon as Jack and I complete the current expedition.
It was a lovely ceremony held in a quaint chapel in Mexico and presided over in Spanish by a native priest. Now Mother, don’t fret because despite that I didn’t understand a word he said, Jack speaks the language quite eloquently, and he was sweet enough to translate everything. You will adore him, I assure you, as I do, and we promise to get married all over again when we return. You may, in fact, begin decorating the lawn, just as you so often described to me.
In the meantime, I know you are happy for me because I am deliriously so!
In case you are not... Mother, a very wise man once told me that happily ever after isn’t something someone can give, not even a mother who loves a daughter so very much. It’s a place inside your heart. I’ve found that place, Mother.
I truly hope you’ll understand, and if not, at least forgive me for following my heart. I love him, Mother, and I am happier than I have ever been. And for the first time I have found a sense of purpose in my drawings. I am cataloguing Jack’s artifacts and discoveries, and doing quite well, Jack says. Enclosed you will find a few of my finest examples, along with a new picture I have just completed. Enclosed also is a letter written by Harlan as delivered to me by Jonathon Preston. It will explain much, I believe, and Father will find it of particular interest.
Papa, I wonder if you have considered purchasing that horse farm you spoke of so long ago? It’s never too late. And I do agree, Mother truly has the most lovely smile...
Sophie lifted her brows after writing that particular remark. Her mother did, of course, have a lovely smile... when she happened to smile... which wasn’t particularly often.
A slightly crooked smile came to her lips as she wondered at her own matchmaking. Was it painfully obvious? To her it was, though her remarks were subtle enough that only her father should take them for what they were.
> “Until we meet again,” she signed the letter. “I remain your loving daughter, Sophia Vanderwahl MacAuley.”
She signed the last of it with as much precision as she was able, every precious letter fashioned with painstaking love.
Sophia Vanderwahl MacAuley.
Jack stirred at her back, his timing impeccable.
“Come to bed, flower,” he demanded.
She turned to see that he had lifted his head from the pillow where they had both lain their heads, peering at her sleepily.
“I can’t sleep without you.”
Sophie laughed softly. “You can too, you rotten cad! I heard you snoring!”
He managed a throaty chuckle. “Impertinent brat. Come back to bed. The drawings can wait until tomorrow.”
Sophie smiled at him. “I’m coming, my darling,” she said, and stood, abandoning her letter on the desk until morning. He was right, it could wait.
Feeling invincible, empowered, she went to the bedside. Staring down at him, she undressed so that he could see her by the moonlight, and knew by the expression on his face that he wanted her... cherished her. And somehow she knew that he would look at her that way even when she was old and her hair was gray.
No words were necessary between them.
With that knowledge and wearing only her most wicked smile, Sophie climbed into bed beside her husband.
And they did, indeed, live happily ever after.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tanya has written seventeen novels, all of which have graced numerous bestseller lists including the New York Times and USA Today. Best known for stories charged with emotion and humor, and filled with flawed characters, her novels have garnered reader praise and glowing critical reviews. She lives with her husband, two dogs and two moody cats in North Michigan.
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Happily Ever After Page 26