by Gill, Tamara
As if sensing company, he glanced up and skidded to a stop, his eyes darting from her to the carriage and the abundant of traveling trunks stacked on the back of the vehicle.
"Hello, husband. Are ye not going to greet me?" she asked him, amused somewhat by his shock.
"Lizzie?" Her name came out with an exhaled breath, and her heart pinched at the disbelief that ran through his tone.
He had not thought she would come. Perhaps he never thought to see her again. Silly man. When women were angry, and especially Scottish women, one must understand that time is required to forgive and move forward in life.
She stepped toward him, smiling. "Sebastian. Ye look well," she said, aware that they were being watched by an abundance of staff.
"I am as good as I can be." He frowned, taking in her wrinkled gown, and Elizabeth knew she had several strands of hair loose about her face.
"You must be tired." He clasped her hand, kissing it. Without letting her go, he turned for the door, barking out orders for her trunks to be unpacked in the countess's rooms beside his own.
"Come, we can speak in my library."
Elizabeth followed him, taking in his home. Marble floors, family portraits, and rich tapestries hung on the walls. Dark-chestnut doors led into numerous rooms. She saw little of them before she was rushed into the library, where he closed and locked the door.
She strolled over to the fire, warming her sore muscles. She turned and found him staring at her with something akin to disbelief.
"Ye did not expect me," she stated, knowing that after months of separation, not many people would, certainly not after the way they parted.
A small frown set between his brows, and Elizabeth had the overwhelming desire to wipe it away, to take away his fear. "I did not think I would ever see you again. It has been so long."
He moved toward her, but not close enough that she could reach out and touch him.
"Our separation has given me time to think, Sebastian." She unhooked her pelisse, throwing it over a nearby wingback chair. "And while I dinna agree with how ye set out to win my hand, I am not unhappy that we're married. Not anymore."
She closed the space between them, staring up at him. He looked good enough to devour. His eyes burned with hope and fear both. His slightly disheveled appearance gave him an air of ruggedness that she liked. Not so much the lord of the manor, but a man, delightful, strong, husband of hers.
"You do not regret being my wife?"
She shook her head. "No. I want to be yer wife."
He reached out, clasping her hands. "But what about what I did to you? How I tricked you into marrying me?"
"Well, the fact that fate had you falling in love with the woman ye set out to fool, I consider myself the victor in this, for you are mine to command. Mine to love."
"I am yours," he declared, kissing both her hands in turn. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I have missed you so much." He pulled her against him, holding her tight in arms that locked about her, like an impenetrable band.
"When my brother told me ye had signed any rights of Halligale over to me, I knew that ye loved me, for I knew how much that house meant to ye."
"It means nothing to me without you in my life." He reached up, pushing the loose strands of hair away from her face, his thumbs idly sliding over her cheeks. "I have missed you so much."
She blinked back tears. They could move forward, have a life together, a marriage. "I missed ye too. Once I decided to forgive ye your stupidity."
His lips twitched. Oh, she'd missed him, everything about the man in her arms. Even if he had been absurdly stupid, to begin with. "Are you here to stay with me?"
"I am," she said, looking about the room. "And when ye want, we can travel to Scotland to your home there as well. I want ye in my life, Sebastian, and from this day forward, I never wish to be parted from ye again."
"I love you. So much." He wrapped her in his arms a second time before pulling back and taking her lips in a searing kiss. Her body heated, liquified at the feel of him again, his warmth, the commanding way he took her mouth.
It did not take long for the kiss to turn from beckoning and sweet to hot and needy. The months apart acted as a kaleidoscope of need. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back with undisguised desire.
His hands were everywhere, teasing and touching, stroking and tweaking. She moaned when one hand covered her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers.
"I want you," he gasped, bending to scoop her into his arms. He carried her over toward the fire, laying her down on the thick Aubusson rug beneath them. And then he was atop her. His powerful body settling between her legs, atop her chest.
Lizzie reached down, fumbling with the buttons on his breeches. One of his hands supported his weight, the other making quick work of her gown, wrenching it above her hips. He thrust into her, taking her with hard, deep strokes. She sighed. This was right, what she wanted. Had missed so very much.
Lizzie wrapped her legs about his hips, letting go and giving over to his desire, the desperation in each thrust, each touch, and kiss he bestowed on her. She ran her hand through his hair, clasping his nape, trying to calm him.
"I'm not going anywhere, Sebastian," she said, slowing their kiss. "Not ever again."
He quieted his lovemaking, and it was more devastating than anything she had ever known. In every kiss, every touch, she could feel the reverence he felt for her, the care and love he had.
"I love you, my darling wife."
She arched her back, enjoying this newfound pace particularly. "I love ye too. Now and forever."
"Yes. Now and forever."
Epilogue
Halligale Estate, 1813 Scotland
Sebastian threw his son in the air, catching him as he giggled and screamed at the game. He was a strapping lad, already a young hellion and a handful for his mother. Ewan Sebastian Brice Denholm, Viscount Trent, future Earl Hastings, was the most perfect boy. Watching him stumble and run to his mama made Sebastian's heart twist in his chest.
Lizzie and Ewan were everything to him, and every day he thanked the stars in the heavens he had not lost his wife due to his own foolish actions.
"Stop throwing him in the air, Sebastian," she said, setting their boy back on his feet and watching as he ran back to him. "He'll be sick all over himself before Brice and Sophie arrive."
Sebastian inwardly groaned, seating himself on a nearby settee, content to watch his son pick up and play with the wooden blocks at his feet. Brice had eventually forgiven him for his conduct, but it had taken two years after their reunion. Still, even to this day, three years into their marriage, he sometimes wondered if the Scottish laird believed he loved his sister.
Not that he cared what Laird Mackintosh thought, so long as Lizzie loved him, that was all that mattered.
"He likes being thrown in the air. He will not be sick. He's too tough for that nonsense."
Right at that moment, his son coughed, spitting up some of his lunch over the front of his clothing. Lizzie threw him a knowing I told you so look and called for his nurse.
"No, I shall take him up and change him." He scooped his son up in his arms, leaning down to kiss his wife as he walked past. "I shall not be long."
"Good." she grinned up at him, laughing when Ewan reached for her face, kissing her cheek. "Thank you, my darling boy," she said, kissing him back.
Sebastian chuckled, pulling their son away.
He did not think he could have been any happier than the day she arrived at his estate, forgiveness in her heart, but he was wrong. Right now, every day since that day. had been better than the last.
The birth of their first child, her body rounding again with their second. Hell, he prayed for a girl, a wee lass with fiery red hair and brilliant, green eyes just like her mama. Their life was perfect, happy, and blissful.
When his brother had lost the estate, and he had set out to win the woman who inherited it, little did he know how much he owed his fo
olish sibling. He owed him his life. His happiness.
"Darling," Lizzie called as he started out the drawing room door.
"Yes?" He turned to her, counting down the hours until he had her in his arms once again. Alone in their room.
Her eyes warmed as if she knew what he was thinking. Understood the secrets of his heart. "Nothing really, only that I love ye."
He winked, tickling his lad when he wiggled on his shoulder, letting out a squeal of laughter for his efforts. "I adore you too," he replied to her. Reveling in her beauty and the love that shone from her eyes. And he always would.
His own perfect Highland Rose.
Thank you for taking the time to read Kiss the Wallflower box set, books 4-6! I hope you enjoyed the stories.
I'm forever grateful to my readers, so if you're able, I would appreciate an honest review of Kiss the Wallflower Books 4-6. As they say, feed an author, leave a review! You can contact me at [email protected] or sign up to my newsletter to keep up with my writing news.
If you'd like to learn about book one in my Royal House of Atharia series, To Dream of You, please read on. I have included chapter one for your reading pleasure.
To Dream of You
The Royal House of Atharia, Book 1
After months spent in hiding, Princess Holly is finally ready to take her rightful place as ruler of Atharia. All she has to do now is survive her murderous uncle’s attempts to steal the throne for himself. But when a mysterious gentleman washes up on the shores of her beach, she’s shocked to realize she needs his help almost as much as he needs hers …
When Drew Meyers left his estate, his plan was to escape the arranged marriage, his scheming father brokered for him. The storm that nearly killed him was not part of the plan. Neither was meeting her. Holly is everything he ever wanted, and he will do anything to keep her safe and get her home—even if doing so means he’ll be forced to let her go forever…
A union between a princess and a lowly future duke is forbidden. But as intrigue abounds and their enemies circle, will Drew and Holly defy the obligations and expectations that stand between them to take a chance on love? Or is their happily ever after merely a dream?
Chapter 1
Sotherton Estate, Suffolk, 1805
My Lord Balhannah,
Drew…
I write to you today from necessity and desperation, and I hope you shall heed my words and help me due to our friendship. There is no doubt in my mind that in the coming days your father shall demand that our marriage takes place forthwith. In fact, as I write this, my father is readying the coaches to travel two days hence. I assume a marriage license has already been procured and contracts signed, unbeknown to us of course…until today.
Know that as much as I admire and care for you as a friend, I do not love, nor do I wish to marry you, as I'm sure you do not want to marry me. You see, my heart has long been given elsewhere, and I will not, not even on pain of disinheritance, give up the man I love.
When we arrive at Sotherton, please do not be there, unless you wish to break my heart and give yourself to me before God, when you know that I shall never love you how a wife should love a husband. If you can provide me with time, my love has promised to come and collect me at Sotherton, where we shall run away to Scotland and be married. I'm sorry to be so frank with my words, but I'm desperate to get this letter to you and, with it, stress how much I do not want such a union.
Please do whatever you can to dissuade this marriage from going ahead.
Forever your friend,
Myrtle
Drew placed the missive from Myrtle into the fire in his room and went to the window. He pulled back the heavy brocade velvet curtains to gauge the weather. A perfect spring day, and from his window, he could see the sea and the cove where his small sailing raft was kept.
Absently he listened to his valet, Jeffries behind him go about his duties in his room. He could not stay here. Not with Myrtle so heartsick over their impending marriage. With his decision made, he turned and faced his servant. "I'm going sailing and may even travel down the coast to visit Sir Percival's at Castle Clair in Kent. I will meet you there. Please pack me a small bag to get me through until we meet again. Nothing too fancy, mind you, we'll be mostly hunting or taking our leisure about the estate. Maybe only two dinner jackets."
Jeffries stared at him, his eyes wide with this change of plans. Drew raised one brow, waiting for him to comprehend he was serious with his demand.
"Of course, my lord." Jeffries started for the chest of drawers, pulling out cravats and buckskin breeches before walking into Drew’s dressing room to collect a trunk. "Will His Grace be aware of your travels, my lord, or are we keeping this excursion a secret?" Jeffries asked, from the small room.
Drew went to his chest of drawers and pulled out the oldest buckskin breeches he owned. He stripped his perfectly tied cravat from his throat, along with his waistcoat. Rummaging through his cupboard, he couldn't find his old woolen waistcoat that was warm and what he liked to use for sailing. "I cannot locate my…" Drew smiled when Jeffries passed it to him, a small smile on the man's face. "Thank you," he said, slipping it on, along with his coat.
Drew walked over to his desk and scribbled a short note to his father. Folding it, he handed it to his manservant. "Have this sent from London when you move through there. The duke may travel to town and demand answers, he will try to find me, but he will not succeed. Under no circumstances are you to tell him where I've gone. I will send a word in a week notifying you, God willing, of my safe arrival." His father was ruthless when it came to having his way, the marriage to Myrtle no different. He would lose his allowance, Drew had little doubt, but what of it? It would not be forever. Myrtle would run away and marry, and then Drew could return home.
Thank heavens Miss Landers was also against the union and only needed time to ensure their marriage would never happen. And time is what he was buying now.
Jeffries handed him a small black valise. "Yes, my lord."
Drew pocketed some blunt and left, leaving via the servant's stairs and the back door, two places his father's shadow never darkened. He ran a hand through his short locks, pulling on a cap to disguise himself further.
The brisk, salty tang of sea air hit him and invigorated his stride. Drew walked through the abundance of gardens his mother had so painstakingly cared for before passing last year. Memories of running about the garden bombarded his mind. Of hidden vistas and large oaks that any young boy enjoyed frolicking around whenever he could. His mother had designed the garden to incorporate hidden vistas perfect for children. Plants that camouflaged the old Roman ruins on the south side of the park, so it wasn't until you were almost upon them did the ruins reveal themselves, the long-lost castle of the Sotherton dukes who came before them.
Drew had spent hours playing on his own within the walls of this green sanctuary. As much as he disliked having the idea of a wife at this very moment, he couldn't help but look forward to the day his children would run about the beautiful grounds and enjoy what he always had.
The crashing of the waves echoed through the trees. Stepping free of the manicured grounds, Drew stood at the top of the small cliff and looked down on the beach's golden sands below. Many years ago, he'd had a small boathouse built to house his sailboat, and as the tide was high, it would be no problem pulling it out and dragging it the short distance to the water.
Taking the winding path down to the shore, it didn't take him long to haul the boat into the shallows and throw his bag under the little compartment that would keep it dry. The sky remained clear, with only the slightest sea breeze. It would help him travel down the coast to where his friend and closest confidant Sir Percival lived. The trip should only take a few days, and he couldn't get far enough away from this estate. To be forced into a union, not of his choice, or Miss Lander's, was reprehensible. The year was 1805, for heaven's sake. His father really ought to get up with the times. Step into the nineteenth cen
tury and embrace the new era. He was a grown gentleman, fully capable of making his own decisions. For his father to demand he marry, simply because he'd stumbled across an heiress, was offensive.
Drew pushed off from the shore, releasing the sail. The wind caught the sheet and pulled him out to sea at a clipping pace. He steered south and smiled. His father would forgive him in time, he was sure of it. The duke was never one to hold a grudge for long, and no matter how mad he'd be at finding out Drew left, he would get over it in time.
Want to read more? Purchase To Dream of You here!
Lords of London series available now!
Dive into these charming historical romances! In this six-book series by Tamara Gill, Darcy seduces a virginal duke, Cecilia's world collides with a roguish marquess, Katherine strikes a deal with an unlucky earl and Lizzy sets out to conquer a very wicked Viscount. These stories plus more adventures in the Lords of London series!
League of Unweddable Gentlemen series available now!
Fall into my latest series, where the heroines have to fight for what they want, both regarding their life and love. And where the heroes may be unweddable to begin with, that is until they meet the women who’ll change their fate. The League of Unweddable Gentlemen series is available now!
The Royal House of Atharia series