“You know, I never thought I’d say this,” Elizabeth said, turning back to her husband with a beaming smile, “but I think I love Sandy boy.”
“I knew I should’ve married a lass with no sense of humor,” Alasdair muttered, pulling his hat over his face and reclining in mock despair.
Victoria, who had caught only the tail end of the conversation, popped her head up. “Wait, wait, wait. Did someone say ‘beastie’? Are we back to dragons?”
“No, darling,” Wilhelmina sighed. “We’ve moved on to ducks.”
“Disappointing,” Victoria mumbled. “I was rooting for more chaos.”
“I think we’ve had quite enough of that for one outing,” Elizabeth said fondly, leaning into Alasdair’s side, who, despite the teasing, wrapped an arm around her waist.
She felt different and lighter, somehow, but the fear that it would all vanish too quickly still lingered beneath the surface.
“Lizzie,” Wilhelmina reached for a strawberry and popped it in her mouth. “I suppose now you’re going to show off all those new sketches you’ve been working on in your little studio, hmm?”
Elizabeth and Alasdair exchanged a glance. She barely stifled a laugh.
“Oh yes,” Elizabeth said lightly, “I’ve been sketching a great deal.”
“We’d love to see them,” Marianne said. “Perhaps I’ll stop by one afternoon?”
Elizabeth hesitated, picturing a very particular sketch currently hidden in their bedchamber. Alasdair seemed to think of the same thing, as his mouth twitched.
“Some of them,” Elizabeth said with a vague smile. “The ones suitable for general audiences.”
“Oh!” Victoria suddenly piped up. “Have you been in a duel, Your Grace?”
The abrupt question made everyone pause.
“Why are we going from dragons to duels?” Alasdair asked, chuckling.
“I just remembered the rumors,” Victoria replied, unfazed. “Well, only what Mother has been muttering under her breath since your wedding.”
Alasdair laughed. “Aye, I’m certain yer maither has her own opinions of me, Lady Victoria.”
“Is it true, Your Grace? Have you been in a duel?” Daphne asked.
“I’d like to think I’ve matured past duels,” he said dryly. “Though I might consider one if anyone insults my wife.”
Elizabeth’s heart squeezed. The protectiveness in his tone was no jest.
“How romantic!” Daphne sighed dreamily.
“Hmm, I agree,” Victoria declared proudly. “I would also duel for my sisters.”
Alasdair gave her a playful nod. “Then we’re allies, lass.”
The conversation shifted then, laughter flowing as easily as the lemonade.
At one point, the twins began chasing each other around the tree, Wilhelmina joining in to corral them. Elizabeth watched with a strange tightness in her chest. She had missed this: her sisters’ chatter, the normalcy of shared sweets and afternoon sun.
About a quarter of an hour later, Alasdair stood a few paces from the picnic blanket, holding a long, thin branch he’d plucked fromthe grass like a broadsword. He twirled it lazily in one hand, his stance exaggeratedly wide, knees bent, his shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his hair loose and flowing in the soft summer breeze.
“En guard, ye wee menace!” he called, pointing the branch toward Victoria, who was brandishing a shorter stick of her own with immense concentration.
“I amnota menace,” Victoria huffed, eyes narrowed. “I am Lady Victoria the Dragon-Slayer, and you’re the beast!”
“I remember you quite vehemently defending dragons a few moments ago,” Wilhelmina remarked with a smirk.