“I love you too,” she murmured sleepily.
Brian smiled, yanking the bell cord and darting to the door. “Tell no one I was here, lass.” The window caught his eye. A single ray of sunshine filtered through the fog, illuminating Lydia’s sleeping form. He looked heavenward tears in his eyes. “Thank you.”
* * *
Lydia snuck a quick peak over her shoulder and slipped clandestinely into the garden. Alone at last. For the last two weeks someone—be it her parents, a maid or the doctor—had hovered constantly. Even Brandon was glued to her side. She could appreciate their fear and the fact she’d nearly died, but Lydia was near to the brink of madness. She turned a slow circle, assuring that she was in fact alone, before settling on the stone bench nestled amongst the rosebushes. Deeply she inhaled the fresh summer perfume and plucked a bloom from the shrub, careful to avoid the thorns.
A pigeon landed a few feet away, undoubtedly in search of left over bread crumbs. “I’m sorry little friend, but I didn’t bring any snacks today.” The bird twittered in response, flitting from one stone to the next.
Lydia smiled, enjoying the serenity of the morning. The last few days she’d steadily regained strength, and today she actually felt like herself again.
“Lydia? Are ye here, love?”
She whirled, a grin stretched across her lips. “You got my note!”
“Aye, lass, I did.” Brian stepped around a square hedge plant, advancing on her slowly. Devilishly he grinned, glancing left and then right. “Are we really alone?”
“Yes.” She laughed softly, holding out both hands. For the last weeks Brian had been an enigma. Her father had made it abundantly clear he did not approve of them together and had all but banned Brian from the premises. She’d seen him only in passing if she happened to be outside with an escort. He clasped her fingers in warm palms and drew her to a stand.
“Then it seems there is an order of business long overdue.” Gentle fingers tipped her chin up as his lips gently claimed hers. His had splayed across the small of her back drawing her more snugly against him.
Lydia sighed, leaning into his heat, linking her arms around his neck. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as tingles ran the length of her spine. How she’d missed his kisses.
His lips traveled down the column of her neck. “Grá mo chroí,” he hummed against her throat.
“Oh, Brian,” she drew back with a wistful sigh. “I still don’t know what those words mean.” And you still haven’t proposed! Truthfully she’d begun to fear he would honor her father’s wishes and merely maintain his promise to stay near her or pressure her once more for a prolonged affair.
Brian’s eyes glittered with a forbidden secret ancient as time. “Reach into yer heart, lass, and tell me ye don’t already know.”
The breath caught in her throat.
“Love of my heart,” he said softly. “The words I spoke to ye mean Love of my heart.”
“Oh, Brian.” A hand fluttered to her breast.
“You, Lydia Covington, are the love of my heart.” He dropped to a knee before her, spanning his broad hands around her waist. The ever present wall crumbled from his eyes revealing the key to his secrets, the power of his devotion to her. “Every word ye said about my bein’ afraid to love again is the truth, lass. I’d thought to distance myself from you, love ye from afar and never have to lose you. The fact is I was a fool to believe it possible. I learned what the world would be without ye in it, and it is a place I want nothin’ to do with.”
Tears welled in her eyes, Lydia was unable to prevent them from trickling down her face.
Brian’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his expression so perfectly anxious and boyish she couldn’t help but smile. “From the first moment I laid eyes on you I have loved ye, Lydia. I’m scared to death admitting the fact, but to never have ye is more terrifying still. My heart belongs to you. Be my wife? Show me what it is to love again?”
Lydia sank to her knees before him, cupping his face in her hands, she ran her thumbs across the curve of his full lips. “Of course I’ll marry you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Without another word she kissed him. His lips slanted over hers in equal parts yielding and victory.
Brian stood, pulling her up with him, and scooped her into his arms. Spinning a joyous circle he tilted his face to the sun before smiling back down at her. “Always remember, love, you belong to me.”
* * *
“Sir William, Mr. Donnelly, I cannot thank you enough for the assistance and discretion in this grisly matter.” Christopher Kensington, the new Viscount of Northbridge, nodded to each man in turn. “If word of my late cousin’s activities got out the family scandal would be impossible to live down. The ton’s hunger for gossip is insatiable.”
“I understand completely, My Lord.” Sir William walked the man to his carriage waiting in the main drive at Wheaton Abbey. “We acted in the best interest of all parties.”
Wrapping up the events surrounding the late Viscount’s death proved almost too easy. The magistrate, a slew of solicitors and estate managers, as well as Christopher Kensington had arrived within four days. It was unanimously decided to keep the facts surrounding the debacle a secret to maintain the integrity of the Northbridge title and the reputation of all other prestigious persons involved—Sir William was still favored to be elected Prime Minister, though rumors of murder and conspiracy flew through the countryside regardless of the very best of efforts. The official report stated His Lordship, Rolland Kensington, Viscount of Northbridge broke his neck in a riding accident.
Brian found the eagerness to sweep the horrendous affair under the rug—thus protecting the integrity of the peerage—absolutely appalling, but all he really cared about was putting the matter to rest so he could proceed with marrying Lydia. Or rather eloping… Olivia and Sir William seemed non-the-wiser to his plans, and still spoke of hopes for a genteel match for Lydia. Brian shook his head. No doubt Olivia would actually make good on her perpetual threat to swoon when Lydia—her key to the peerage—absconded with an Irish stable hand. Trumping the man who’d threatened to have him deported to a prison colony would prove sweet indeed. Pity he wouldn’t be around to see the look on Sir William’s face when he realized how severely he’d underestimated Brian.
Brian held back as Sir William bade Lord Northbridge farewell, then slipped discreetly around the stone corner to the fateful library window. Lydia was sure to be there.
He had not been entirely honest all the times he’d insisted being unable to provide for Lydia. After squiring away near every cent he’d laid hands on over the years there was more than enough funds for a modest start. Nothing grand, a small spread of land and a few horses, but a start nonetheless. He smiled just to think of breeding his own horses… at last.
The window opened without difficulty and Brian smiled affectionately, folding his arms upon the windowpane, content simply to gaze upon Lydia. Her back was to him, the pointer finger of her right hand tracing the hard spines of the books lined methodically along the shelf. It was not difficult to imagine her adorably furrowed brow as she contemplated her next subject of study. Her hair reflected a glossy golden brown in the warm rays of the sun and his gaze traced the luscious perfection of her curves, the anticipation of holding her in a lover’s embrace again was near enough to kill him. In truth this was the first time he’d seen her without the hovering presence of her stepmother in at least ten days. With the few stolen moments they’d managed together he had done as she’d asked and given her his past. Brian told her of Pauley and the orphanage and what little he remembered of his family. Sharing his fears proved freeing and finally he looked forward to living a full life, having a family. His gaze drifted to Lydia’s slender waist. Perhaps a family was already forthcoming. His smile widened.
Silently Brian crawled through the window, wanting to surprise her. He stepped close to her back, relishing the rosy warmth emanating from her, and lifted a single blue Forget-me-not to her eye level. “So ye
’ve never been outside of England?”
Lydia turned to him, beaming, her amber eyes dancing as she took the flower from between his fingers. “Never.” A coy smile touched her lips. “What did you have in mind?”
Brian grinned, and leaned in until their noses touched. “How do you feel about Scotland?”
Leaning in the rest of the way, Lydia lightly kissed his lips. “Have I finally convinced you to run away with me?”
“Aye, lass.” He slipped his arms around her, lifting her against his chest. “And we’ll never return.”
Epilogue
The thoroughbred chestnut yearling frisked through the paddock, kicking up his heels, obviously enjoying the late summer sun. Brian rested a booted foot on the bottom rail of the wooden fence, a contented smile adorning his lips as he gazed upon the fruits of his hard work. After five years of haggling to cross the perfect bloodlines he may finally have succeeded. The colt, fondly—if less than appropriately—named Blackie by his children had the exquisite beauty and lines of a champion. Give him a couple of years to mature and the stud fees would be rolling in.
Life was quite nearly perfect.
“Papa!” A small voice called from behind him. “Papa, I need you!”
Brian shoved away from the fence and smiled as his six year old daughter, Susan, sprinted across the yard, blond curls bobbing frantically behind her. “Aye, love, what do ye need?”
Susan stopped in front of him cheeks flushed pink after her romp. “I can’t find, Mama, anywhere and the arm ripped off my doll again.” She held the well-loved toy out for his inspection; unfortunately Gracie doll lost her left arm at least once a week.
“Oh, I see,” he said solemnly, taking the toy from her small hands. “Why don’t ye run back up to the house with Brandon and the other children, I think I know just where to find yer mother.”
“Very well.” Susan sighed dramatically, slipping her tiny fingers into his palm. “I shall simply have to cancel my tea party for this afternoon. Gracie cannot drink tea or eat biscuits without her arm.”
A laugh welled in Brian’s throat, his daughter sounded exactly like Lydia, which never ceased to amaze him as all of their five children were adopted. Though never confirmed by a physician, Brian suspected Lydia’s gunshot wound made getting with child difficult. Susan they had taken in at the age of two after her parents died of a lung fever. “Don’t ye be worryin’, me lovely, I’ve no doubt yer mother will fix the doll in plenty of time for tea.”
“I suppose.” Her mood seemed to brighten instantly. “Daddy?”
“Yes, darlin’?”
“Why do you talk funny?”
This time he did laugh aloud. Children said the damnedest things. He never tired of it. “Because I was born in Ireland and you were born in Virginia. Perhaps one day I’ll take ye to Ireland for a visit, it is all the way across the ocean.” He winked at her. “Run along to the house now and I’ll fetch yer mother.”
“Oh, very well, and do hurry.” Susan took off at a dead run for the house.
Brian just shook his head, turned the doll over in his hand, and made his way to the one place he was certain to find Lydia. After six years of marriage he knew her habits well. He ambled down a small knoll toward the babbling brook to Lydia’s favorite secluded haven. A vision bathed in the sunlight, the mere sight of his wife never ceased to take his breath away. Lydia’s hair was piled loosely atop her head, a blue skirt fanned out around her, and, as always, a book sat in her lap. His heart ached with the familiar pull he forever experienced with Lydia near, and he knew she felt it too because her eyes lifted with his soundless approach.
“Brian.” She beamed up at him, and stretched out a hand. “You always know where to find me.”
“Aye, lass, that I do and don’t ye forget it.” He lifted Gracie doll. “It seems we have a crisis at the house in immediate need of yer assistance.”
A tinkle of musical laughter bubbled from Lydia. “Oh, Gracie doll, what am I going to do with you?”
Brian reclined in the grass beside his wife, leaning against her he laced his fingers through hers, relishing the rare moment alone. “How are ye feelin’ today love?” She’d been sick the last couple of days and he couldn’t help but worry over her.
“Better,” she replied instantly. Her honey eyes flicked away from his face almost nervously. “Much better. So, um, Brian, how would you feel about having six children?”
“Six?” He flopped back in the grass. “I say, love, ye’ve a knack for findin’ every stray child, horse, and cat in the Americas.” Brian enjoyed teasing her inability to turn away any being in need of assistance. Not that he would turn any child in need of a home away either. He loved every one of their children and the life they’d built together. He loved giving his children the one thing he had craved growing up… a home.
“Actually, I was talking about having a child of our own. A baby.” The corners of her lips curved in sweet excitement. “A little piece of you and a little piece of me.”
Brian’s heart slammed in his chest. Stunned he rolled to his knees, gaze dropping from her enchanting face to her abdomen. Could it be possible? After all the years of trying and disappointments… “Oh, Lydia, please don’t get me hopes up if there is even a chance it’s not true.” His hand spanned her perfectly flat and tiny stomach, envisioning it rounded with new life; the perfect complement to their ever growing family.
“It is true,” she said softly, running a reassuring palm up his arm. “Last night I dreamed of a baby girl with green eyes.”
“Would ye prefer a girl?”
Lydia shrugged, a small smile quirking her lips. “I prefer to be surprised in a few months.”
“I like surprises.” Brian slipped his arms around her and pulled her into the lush grass beneath him. His lips found the sweet flesh of her mouth and throat. The knowledge she carried his child left his heart full enough to burst with a depth of love he’d never known. He longed to love her right here in the grass, show her what he could not put into words, but as he shifted above her his hand grazed the battered Gracie doll.
“Papa!” The call drifted down the knoll. Brian stilled with a sigh, lifting the toy.
Lydia too sighed and then smiled. “Duty calls.” She pressed her lips to his neck. “We could always continue this later. Hopefully we won’t get busy and forget.”
“Forget you, lass? Never. Ye’re the love of my heart.”
END
About the Author
Photo by Susan Gest
A Registered Nurse by night, Melissa battles the stresses of life and illness by enjoying uplifting tales of love and romance. A firm believer in true love united with an enduring fascination with history has prompted her pursuit of romance writing. She lives in beautiful Big Sky Country Montana with her husband and children.
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