by Caroline Lee
He’d loved her for weeks.
After a long moment, he heard her take a deep breath. “Don’t go, Vincenzo.” She was still calling him that, even after what he’d told her last night?
“Arabella, I—“
“Yes.” She stepped closer to him; he could feel her, taste her breath. “Yes. I know.” She took his free hand, then, in both of hers, and he wasn’t sure her intentions. “What you said last night was true. I’m not your Jane, and you’re not my Edward. But…” She lifted his hand, and placed in on her cheek, and he heard a lifetime’s worth of unspoken promises in that but.
She was wearing her hair down and loose around her shoulders. He felt it brush against the back of his hand, and stooped to lower his violin case to the ground. He wanted both hands free for this. Slowly, he threaded his fingers through the thick tresses, the way…the way he used to. Then, he dropped his hands to her shoulders, and felt silk. His questing fingers followed the collar to the belt, and realized two things simultaneously; that she was still wearing her dressing gown and nightie, and that she was holding her breath.
For someone who’d bent her life to fit rules and dictates about propriety, she was sure throwing it all to the wind now, wasn’t she? “Are you still wearing what I think you’re wearing? Here, in public?”
“Absolutely everyone is looking at us, Vincenzo.”
“And are they eyeing you appreciatively?” He ran his hands up her arms, and resisted the urge to pull her against his chest. He didn’t have that right. “I know I would, were I in their shoes.”
She made a surprisingly sexy little noise of dismissal. “You might be used to the stares, but I most certainly am not.” When she took a deep breath, he felt her press a little closer. “But that’s why I did it.”
“Because I’m used to the stares?”
“Because I wanted you to know that I understood.” Understood what? “Understood what you’ve been trying to teach me, Vincenzo Bellini.”
He tried for a smile, but having her here, this close to him…having her under his hands, but not in his arms…having her say his name in that breathy voice…it was torture. It was all he could do to swallow and try not to think of what it would feel like to slip that silk off her shoulders and pull her down on top of him.
Her voice was a purr worthy of Rajah when she said “I understand now, my darling.” Her hands were on his cheeks then, and Oh God, she’d stepped closer. He could feel all of her under the dressing gown, and there was no way she couldn’t feel all of him—even the suddenly tight parts. But she didn’t jerk away in surprise or disgust. Instead, she—a little shudder of desire passed over his skin—she pressed her hips against his and twisted her fingers through his over-long hair at the base of his neck.
“I…”
“You’re leaving us because you think that I don’t see your value. You think that I assume you’re a lesser human being, because you’re not physically perfect. And maybe I did think that, when we met. Maybe I’ve been using Milton’s rules and dictates on how to appear proper to hide from the truth; I’m not physically perfect, either. Maybe I thought that by following those rules, I could make up for my lost beauty.”
“’For as you were when first your eye I eyed, such seems your beauty still’. Shakespeare wrote that, and I’ve always thought it was about you.”
She laughed then, the same tinkling giggle he’d remembered during a decade of darkness. “That’s because you’re blind, darling.” She pressed her cheek to his shoulder and he was at a loss for what to do with his hands. “What I’m trying to tell you is that I was wrong. Milton’s rules are wrong. You... you taught me that.”
Heart soaring, he wrapped his arms around her. “Do you mean it?”
Her fingers were drawing little circles on his shoulders, and she sounded hesitant when she said, “Yes. I…” A deep breath. “You taught me that it doesn’t matter what a person looks like, only how they make others feel.”
She understood! “And you have the most wonderful way of making others feel accepted, Arabella. You’ve raised a fine son, and have made a strong home for him. You are beautiful, inside and out.”
“This realization wasn’t supposed to be about me. I chased you down—I’m outside in my night-clothes, for goodness’ sakes!—to tell you not to go, because you’re wrong about me. I don’t care what you look like. I just want…”
When she trailed off, he thought he might choke. “What?” He swallowed, but that didn’t help the tightness in his chest. “What do you want?”
“You. Just you.”
With a groan, he gave in to the inevitable. He loved her, and she’d just told him that there was hope for a future for him, after all. “Arabella, honeysuckle, I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Thank God.”
And then neither of them were speaking. Kissing her was better than he remembered. Better than he could’ve imagined, over the last few weeks of dreaming about her taste. Her lips pulled at his, and he lifted her off her feet. The sexy way she moaned almost undid him then, and he couldn’t help thrusting his tongue against hers.
They fit perfectly. That was all he could think about. So much had changed—they were two different people. But they still fit together perfectly. And she smelled of honeysuckles, just like his dreams.
Her arms were tight around his neck, and he liked how she didn’t let him go, even when he lifted her higher. God, she was perfect. This was perfect. She kissed him like a starving woman, and the realization made him hotter than he could’ve imagined.
It was the train whistle that finally drew their lips apart. He didn’t lower her to her feet, though; just pressed his forehead to hers and tried not to gloat at how heavy she was breathing. “I’m going to miss my train, honeysuckle.”
“Good. You don’t belong in San Francisco. You belong here, with us.”
“Us?”
“Your family, Vincenzo. Eddie and Gordy and…me.” She pulled back a bit, and he let her slip down his body and stand on her own feet. “I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay and make your life here in Everland. I want to live with you, and read to you, and listen to you teach our son to be a world-class violinist.”
He had to be sure. Reaching up, he yanked the blindfold down, so it hung around his neck. “Even looking like this?”
He felt her gentle touch on his cheek, and then brow. “The first time I saw you, Vincenzo, you looked like this. You still moved me to tears with your incredible talent. I knew from that very moment that you were special, no matter how you looked, but it took me a while to realize it.”
His was flying again. He felt like a different man, a better man. “I told you that I’ve never loved another woman the way I loved my Jane—“
“And I’ve never loved a man the way I loved my Edward. But…” His breath caught. “But I think that I could. I love you, Vincenzo. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed, loudly and freely and full of hope for the future. Then, wrapping his arms around her once more, he pulled her into another kiss, one she enthusiastically returned.
“Mother?” The small voice pulled them apart, but not before he felt her smile against his lips. “Are you feeling all right?”
Still holding Vincenzo tightly, she giggled. “Of course, sweetheart. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re still in your robe, and you’re…you’re kissing Signore Bellini in the middle of the street.”
“Yes, I know. It’s a little unusual, isn’t it?”
He could actually hear the boy thinking, and Vincenzo had to smile. How had he not realized the similarities between them sooner? “Eddie, you’re just in time. I was about to tell your mother that I loved her.” He felt her suck in a breath. “Love her the way I loved my first wife.”
“Are you going to marry her, so we don’t have to live in the storage room?”
Loosening his hold on her once more, Vincenzo let her stand beside him
when he turned to speak to the boy. To his son. “I think that you should come live with me.”
“All of us? Even Rajah?”
“Of course. My house is big enough. Thank you for taking care of him, by the way.”
“What about Mother’s garden?”
What about it? She’d worked hard on that garden, over the years. It was perfect. But she surprised him by shrugging, and leaning her head on his shoulder. “There’s room in front of your house for a garden, darling. I’ll plant a new one.”
“No, yours is beautiful. I couldn’t ask—“
She tsked. “Too beautiful. This new one will be wild and carefree and everyone will be able to enjoy it.” Wild and carefree. Just like his Jane.
He breathed a silent prayer. She was saying everything he’d hoped—but never dreamed—she’d say. “And honeysuckle?”
“As much of it as you can stand.”
“God, Arabella,” he groaned, burying what was left of his face in her hair, inhaling her perfect scent. “I love you. I will never stop loving you.”
He grunted when Eddie threw himself against both of them, but they wrapped their arms around the boy and hugged him. “Can I call you ‘Stepfather’?”
Throat tightening, Vincenzo could only shake his head. She answered for him. “I think that you should skip the formalities, Eddie, and just call him ‘Father’.”
There was a deep silence from his son. Vincenzo let go of Arabella, placed both hands on Eddie’s shoulders, and squeezed. From against his stomach, he heard the boy ask hesitantly, “Are you sure…Father?”
And his heart, which he thought couldn’t get any fuller than it had when she’d declared her love for him, exploded in a wild crescendo. He tightened his hold on his son, and knew that his voice was gruff when he said, “I have never been surer of anything in my life, Eddie.” When the boy grew a bit older, maybe he’d sit down with his son and explain some things…but for now, he was content just to hear the word father on Eddie’s lips.
“Well, then…” Arabella put her arms around both of them, and found his mouth for a quick kiss. “I guess there’s only one thing to ask.”
“What is it?”
“Will you marry me, Vincenzo Bellini?”
He was still laughing when he swept her into a hug and twirled her around. He had a wife who valued him, a son who looked up to him, and a home to grow old in. He’d found his forever.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at another Everland tale!
If you’ve enjoyed Arabella and Vincenzo’s fairy tale, I urge you to friend me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter; I frequently post fun bits of social history that I find while researching my latest book. Do you like reading historical westerns, and like hanging out with others who do too? Join us on the Pioneer Hearts Facebook page, where we have the most wonderful discussions, contests, and updates about new books!
The Everland, Ever After series is going to be so much fun! If you’d like to keep up with my stories, or read deleted scenes, or receive exclusive free books, sign up for my newsletter.
Reviews help other readers find books they’ll love.
All feedback is read and appreciated.
Other works by Caroline Lee
Sign up for Caroline’s Newsletter to receive exclusive content and freebies, as well as first dibs on her books!
Interested in finding out just how Jack Carpenter became Everland’s town doctor? Here’s a sneak peek of his story:
From The Stepmother; an Everland Ever After Tale
His princess’s gentle snoring had lulled Jack into a state of near-sleep himself. He wasn’t sure if she could even put herself to sleep anymore; most nights he just held her against his chest, marveling at this tiny little miracle of Creation, until she drifted off. It wasn’t because Zelle needed it. Nah, it was for him; he needed to feel her, to listen to her, to be reminded that he was alive and free and so was she.
Tonight had been no different. After finishing yet another meal of rice and beans and salt pork, he’d had to give her a bath in the basin. It was just as well that he let her eat naked, because with his limited meal repertoire, she often ended the evening smeared in mushed beans and with rice stuck in her ear.
It was the highlight of Jack’s day.
As usual, after her bath, he’d changed her into her nightdress and put her on his lap to read to her. Lately she’d gotten real interested in his books, but he still didn’t know if it was just the sound of his voice, or if she really cared about the story. And then, as usual, her eyes had gotten droopy, and she’d curled up against his chest, one thumb in her mouth and her feet tucked between them. When her breathing told him that she’d fallen asleep, he’d put the book down, and just hold her.
With his feet up on the crate, and his head wedged against the seat-back cushion just so, he could fall asleep like this. Had fallen asleep like this, pretty often since that day three months ago that he’d arrived in this two-bit town and moved into the empty house. Probably would’ve again tonight, except for the knocking.
It took him a minute to figure out where the noise was coming from. He’d had plenty of visitors in the first month, sure, but he’d gotten rid of most of them with his poor manners. Besides, the sun had already set. As always, something out of the ordinary like this caused his heart to crawl up into his throat and his pulse to start pounding in his ears. Had Witcher found them, already? It’d only been a few months!
The knock came again, and Jack slowly sat up, making sure not to disturb Zelle. He slipped around the furniture towards the simple house’s only door. Still holding her pressed against his right shoulder, he lifted her so that she sat more comfortably, and grabbed the knife off of the table where he’d set it to dry after dinner. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
If Witcher had tracked them to Everland already, he wasn’t going to take them by surprise. Jack would do pretty much anything to keep his old boss from taking Zelle away again. Swallowing, he admitted that he could even kill to keep his princess safe.
Cautiously, he cracked the door with the hand holding the knife, being careful to angle his body to protect Zelle if necessary.
He probably shouldn’t have bothered. There was just enough light from the western sky to see who was standing on what would’ve been his doorstep if this God-forsaken place was civilized enough to have doorsteps: a woman. And not just any woman, but a young one.
He’d been to the prayer meeting every Sunday for the last ten weeks—he believed strongly that Zelle needed to be raised with religion—and thought he’d met every single female Everland had to offer… all six of them. But this one hadn’t been there; hadn’t been around the town at all, as far as he’d seen. Because he’d sure as hell remember someone who looked as good as this.
She was a pale angel in the twilight, dark hair pulled back under some kinda bonnet, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth in a way that made her somehow more approachable. Maybe he was getting fanciful, but she looked exactly like the kind of woman—good and pure and tight and clean—that he’d dreamed of during those long nights in his cell. The kind of woman that he wanted to raise Zelle to be. Noble. Kind. Pristine.
Jack blinked, wondering if there was something off about the beans. What the hell was she doing, standing at his door? The sight of a wagon with two figures in it, kicking up dust on the way back to town, or the trunk with carpetbag on top, didn’t help clear things up, either.
Well, blinking hadn’t made her disappear, so Jack figured he’d better find some manners, quick. He pulled the door open wider, keeping the knife behind it so he wouldn’t scare her. He shifted Zelle up higher, and stepped forward a bit, to let the light from the lamp on the table spill out into the frigid night.
With a gasp, the woman took a step back, staring up at him like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe opening the door hadn’t been such a good idea. Was he all that ugly, really? From the way she was looking a bit sick, he thought that maybe he was.
> “Can I help you, ma’am?”
She didn’t say anything, but continued to stare, her fingers twined around themselves in front of her lips. “Ma’am?” It was damn cold out here, and he was letting all the heat out. She shook her head once, although Jack couldn’t tell if it was in response to his question, or if she was trying to shake some sense into herself.
Zelle whimpered in her sleep, and nestled deeper into the crook of his neck. He would’ve patted her back to sooth her, but he was still holding the knife. The baby had drawn the mystery woman’s attention, though, and he watched her fear—or was it only surprise?—fade as her gaze swept over Zelle’s wispy pale hair. He tried again, “Ma’am?”
This time, she met his eyes, and dropped her hands from her mouth. He noticed that they were still twisted together, though, when she took a deep breath. “I’m Meri Almassy.”
She said it like it was supposed to mean something. “Yeah?” He knew he was being rude, but she still hadn’t explained anything.
When he didn’t react sufficiently—what had she been expecting?—her dark brows drew together, making a cute little “V” that he itched to smooth away. Another deep breath, and he pretended not to notice the way her small breasts strained against the light gray of her coat. Why in the world would someone who looked like her show up at his door at this hour? There was no call for it, no good reason.
“Are you the doctor?”
Ah. There was a reason, but not a good one.
So Jack scowled, and told the truth—“No”—and slammed the door in her face.
Don’t worry! Jack eventually lets Meri in out of the cold…but you don’t have to take my word for it! You can read all about his surprise mail-order-bride in