“I want to build a family here, one that is truly ours. I want you to bare my children.”
“Oh, Ben…”
“What do you say wife?”
“What has changed yer mind so? So much has happened,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.
“You have happened, Duchess. You have changed me forever.”
“And ye have done the same for me.”
“I want to look into my child’s eyes and see your fiery emerald gaze.”
“With your dark curly hair?”
“I need our lives fully entwined together.”
“It would be me life’s greatest joy, to have yer children and to grow old together.”
“I have learned that you can do anything. You are beauty and strength, life and love itself. Welcome home, Duchess.”
Epilogue
CHRISTMAS DAY
Amassive yule log, walls dripping with glittering garlands, fresh holly sprigs, little bows, and flickering candles, dominated the Ealdwick Manor parlor as Christmas had finally come. It was a beautiful fixture at the far end of the room next to the roaring fireplace, casting dancing light over the chaos.
It was mid-morning on Christmas Day, and the ancient house, perhaps for the first time, felt truly alive.
A makeshift race was in progress, involving a miniature wooden horse, a velvet cloak used as a cape, and three grown men moving far faster than their dignities should allow.
Benedict was utterly unrestrained. His jacket was tossed over an antique chair, and his movements were quick and joyous, a shocking contrast to the rigid control he had worn like armor for years.
“Yah!” He yelled out as he moved with a booming laugh, a sound rarely heard before Isla had come into his life. “Come boy!” He cheered as he scooped up Oliver around the waist.
He tossed the boy high into the air, catching him easily before setting him down to chase after the runaway wooden horse.
“Look at me!” Oliver cried to Isla, who was sitting comfortably by the fire on a settee.
“Ye are most brave, Oliver! I am so glad ye are enjoyin’ yer Christmas present, although nae as much as yer faither!”
Callum, dashing and competitive, yelled playfully as he cut in front of Benedict then, attempting to snatch the velvet cloak. “I fear ye are too slow, Yer Grace! Your old bones canna keep up with young lads like us! Aye, Oliver?” He said as he finally snatched up the cloak and the boy, who began giggling wildly.
Lord Murkwood slapped Callum on the back, grinning widely. “Easy now, lad! Not all of us are still in our athletic prime!” He said as he narrowly dodged a soft throw pillow Oliver had aimed at his head, shouting, “A good toss, Master Oliver! But your aim is like your father’s strategy… predictable!”
In that moment, Benedict changed course and ran into Kenneth, playfully knocking him on the settee next to Isla.
“That will show you who is in their athletic prime, and predictable,” he said with a wink. “Now, who is ready for somerefreshment. I think my son needs a few more gingerbread and biscuits. Where is Mrs. Callahan?”
“Right here, Your Grace,” she said as if on cue, dropping a fresh batch of biscuits on the coffee table and a steaming pot of coffee. “And no wine until after dinner, Lord Arnold. You forget, I knew your mother. You have to listen to me!”
“Mrs. Callahan, please do me one last order,” Benedict said sharply, the room falling to a hushed silence.
“Of course, Your Grace,” she said, her face blank.
“Take the rest of the day off. Please. Along with the rest of the staff.”
“But Your Grace! Christmas dinner!”
