KDBookOnline
Share Us
Will stood up and offered his hand. “Yes. And thank you. Thank you, Michael. Caroline. You have no idea how much easier this sets my mind, to know they’ll be well cared for.”
The solicitor tilted his head. “I have an idea. I am a parent, too, you know.”
I am a parent, too, you know.
For better than a week those words had been echoing in Emmie’s mind.
They’d dug into her when she’d gone upstairs to find George after the Fenmores had left. She’d discovered the boy beneath his bed, Rose under there with him. The little girl had an arm over her brother’s back, and she’d brought a pair of pillows into the makeshift cave with her, one for each of them.
Four days ago, when they’d packed for the trip to Cumberland and George had asked if their things would still be at Winnover Hall when they returned, she’d nearly broken down into tears. The children were giving them Winnover Hall, and in doing so, were ensuring their own exile from it. That was how it felt, anyway.
If this was parenthood, she’d never realized how very much it hurt. And yet she’d felt all the other emotions, too, when one of the little ones smiled at her or hugged her or asked her to read them a story or demanded an explanation for lightning. She adored it, she would miss it more than she could ever express, and she didn’t regret a moment of it.
There was even more to it than that. The warm arm currently draped across her shoulder, long fingers twined with hers—that was not… new, but at the same time, it was. The way she felt having Will there in the bed with her, sleeping beside her, that was new. The fondness and humor in his eyes when she looked up at him, that was new, as well. It had taken her eight years to figure out, but evidently procreation wasn’t just about making children, and a friend could also be a very passionate—and very patient—lover. And without that burden… well, good heavens.
“Good morning,” he murmured, followed by a kiss to the nape of her neck.
“Good morning,” she said, shifting onto her back so she could see him.
“How are you?”
How was she? Relaxed, a bit aroused, comfortable—all things she hadn’t been in his presence for eight years, until the past few weeks. And especially the past few nights. “Feeling a bit naughty.”
“I—” He narrowed his eyes. “Which kind of knotty?”
Chuckling, she reached out and ran one finger down his well-muscled chest. “This kind.”
“Ahh.” Will closed in for a long, slow, heart-pounding kiss. “Another reason I’m glad we’ve taken an additional day for travel,” he murmured, shifting his attention to her throat.
She sighed. If only they could turn the coaches around and head back to Winnover. Today… Today they would secure Winnover Hall. There was no sense in thinking otherwise. “I’m worried about this afternoon.”
“Yesterday would have been more difficult, with a hundred people arriving and settling into rooms, and a large formal dinner. We’ve avoided that by being late.”
“Which will raise questions, because we’re never late to anything.”
“Yes, but this time we have sickly children with us. They’ll garner some attention when we first arrive because they’ve been much mentioned but never seen until now, but with the party already begun, hopefully any greetings will be brief. We’ve made it as easy on George and Rose—Malcolm and Flora—as we can.”
“Yes.” She put a palm against his cheek, rough with its morning stubble of beard. “Regardless of what happens, though, I… I don’t want things to go back the way they were, Will.”
“I don’t want that, either.” His fingers, still twined with hers, tightened. “I like being in love with my wife.”
She lifted up and kissed him. Love was… extraordinary. And unpredictable. The peskiest thing about it was that once it awakened, there was no telling who it would surround and encompass and make vital. And it had seized on two precocious little children with the same fierceness that it had this connection between her and Will.
The door to the inn’s adjoining room rattled. “Are you awake?” Rose’s muffled voice sounded through the keyhole. “We want to go have breakfast.”
“Go ahead,” Emmie answered. “We’ll be down shortly.”
She’d brought Hannah along, because she wasn’t about to do her own hair with a hundred relatives there to pass judgment on it, and she slipped on her dressing robe to go fetch the maid and have Davis, Will’s valet, come see to him.
“I keep reminding myself it wouldn’t be fair to the children to keep them,” Will said, as he pulled on his black, formal trousers.
“Yes,” she agreed, not certain why he wanted to revisit this same argument again. “Too many lies have been told. That’s on me, I know, but they would be the ones to suffer for it if they stayed.”
“It’s not on you,” he stated, straightening. “You kept us in our home. But I keep trying to find a path where we can untangle everything and have them stay. I want them to stay.”
“I want them to stay, too, Will. But we can’t even ask them if that’s what they wish, because they simply don’t understand the consequences. Or the responsibility of pretending to be other people for their entire lives.”
“I detest problems without solutions; I don’t believe in them,” he countered, scowling.