Rebecca wordlessly nodded.
He led her to another oil painting, this one in the gallery. It was a portrait of Christ on the cross, with one of the criminals crucified beside him, the man’s eyes raised to heaven. The old words whispered through her mind,“Thou shaltbe with me in paradise.”
“I’ve walked past this a thousand times,” he said. “But today was the first time I stopped and really looked. Reallysaw.”
She watched his dear profile as he spoke, relishing the sweet intimacy of his confession and this moment, and hoping not to do anything to break the tantalizing spell.
“You may think me daft,” he added, “but as I stood here, I thought I heard a voice whisper, ‘I forgive you, and I love you.’”
“Like Mr. George said to Selina as he was taken away,” Rebecca observed.
He nodded, and for a moment, they both stared up at the portrait of the Savior.
Then Rebecca said, “I have accepted God’s forgiveness for my deception. But I still need yours.”
“You have it.” Holding her gaze, he took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed her fingers. Her skin warmed and tingles of pleasure swept through her.
As if suddenly remembering something, he said, “Oh. I have something for you. I had planned to bring it to the lodge, but now you’re here....”
“What is it?”
“Come with me.”
She eagerly followed him across the hall, up the stairs, and along the corridor. Near the door she knew led to his bedchamber, she noticed an empty place on the wall in a long row of regularly spaced portraits. On the floor, propped against the wall, was a rectangle wrapped in brown paper. He lifted it and held it toward her.
Afraid to hope, she tentatively tore away one corner, then ripped away more.Yes.
“I am returning it to you,” he said. “I never should have agreed to purchase it. John said he needed the money, and I am a dupe, apparently.”
“You are kind and generous and always have been.” She stared down at the family portrait. Her father, mother, herself as a girl, and John as a toddler. Seeing it again, her heart swelled with love and the sting of loss.
“Thank you,” she whispered, aware of the tears filling her eyes but powerless to stop them.
“The truth is,” he added, “I was afraid if I did not buy it, John would sell it to someone else, and you might never see it again.”
“Had it been hanging there, before now?” She pointed to the empty spot on the wall.
He nodded. “For nearly a twelvemonth. I wanted to hang it somewhere I would see it often, which I did, whenever I went to my ... bedchamber.”
At the word, said in that tone, her chest gave an odd palpitation and her mouth went dry. She looked up at him, her gaze drawn to his mouth. His lips.
Then reality intruded.
“You keep it,” she said in a shaky little voice and pushed thepainting toward him. “I don’t know where I shall be living. I have no proper home to give it.”
He bent to set the painting down, then rose. Framing her shoulders with warm hands, Frederick gently guided her to face him. He reached up and stroked her jaw, then cupped the side of her face, looking deeply into her eyes. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure or honor than to share my home with you, Rebecca Lane.” He slid his thumb over her bottom lip, then slowly leaned close, touching her mouth with his in an achingly slow, sweet kiss. Raising his head, he said in a husky voice, “Say you will marry me and bring this dusty place to life. I love you, and will do everything in my power to be a good husband to you.”
Her heart lodged in her throat, she found it difficult to speak.
When she didn’t immediately reply, his eyes dimmed. “Please don’t tell me I am too old or have waited too long.”
Her eyes filled with a new wave of tears, and happiness beat a rhythm in her veins.
With a trembling grin, she said, “It has been a rather long wait. But I love you too. I always have and always will.”
Pleasure brightened his dear face. “And here I feared I had lost my chance with you.”
“Thankfully, God offers second chances.” Rebecca gazed into his adoring eyes, raised herself on tiptoes, and pressed her lips to his as she had long dreamed of doing.
