“Is that…” she began, unable to finish the question.
“It is,” he said softly, his tone filled with regret. The piece of furniture was a baby’s crib, covered in dust but looking unused. “When Helena died, she was pregnant with our child…” His voice cracked.
“Oh, Alaric…” She did not know what to say. But she spread her gaze over the room, noting now the bright colors of the walls and the paintings of mythological creatures on the ceilings, clearly designed to capture the attention of a child.
“When she died, I made a promise,” Alaric continued, his voice turning distant. “To never love again. To never marry. And most of all…” His voice wavered. “To never have a child.”
“Alaric, I had no idea.” She wanted to go to him, but she felt that wasn’t the right thing to do. She could see Alaric fighting with himself as he stared at that crib. “And I understand if you do not wish to…” She grimaced as if in pain. “Truly, we do not have to have a child. I am simply happy being with you.”
“To not love… to not marry…” He spoke the words carefully. “Two promises that I have already broken.” Then he turned to look at her and, most surprisingly, he was smiling. There was love in his eyes, and they glimmered with tears. “I want to have a child with you, Clara. More than anything.”
“You… you do?” she stammered, unsure.
“Yes… but on one condition.”
“Name it.”
He stepped into her, took her hands, and pulled her in close so that his lips traced her forehead. “That you never leave me.”
She answered him with a kiss. With her arms wrapped around his neck. With their bodies held close so that he could feel how much she loved him. Just as she could feel how much he loved her.
And as they kissed, Clara could not help but think about how she had gotten here.
That she had taken a chance on a man who had terrified her. That she had forced this marriage for no other reason than the alternative was worse. That she had consigned herself to living in a loveless marriage, a prisoner of a different type, yet still with more freedom than she’d had.
For her entire life, she had been a prisoner. To her father. To this marriage, for a time. To Lord Wolfe, even if it was only for a few days. Desperate for freedom. Determined to live her life how she wanted it. She had that now, a life she had chosen, not been forced into. A life with a man whom she loved, who loved her in return. A life that would bring her a different type of freedom, surprises, excitement, and love in all its forms.
As Clara kissed her husband and laughed with him, she could not believe all she had been through to get here, just as she knew that if she was asked to do it again, she would not change a thing.
That is how I know I have made the right choice. And that is how I know that every choice I make from here on out will be the same. For I am in love, and with love such as this… well, how can any choice made be the wrong one?It couldn’t be. And that was a truth from which she would not be shaken.
Epilogue
SEVEN MONTHS LATER…
Alaric stood by the window in his office, doing as he so often did these days, watching his wife. She was down in the back garden, walking about as she kept an eye on the gardeners who were tending to the verdant grounds with a sense of care and an eye toward perfection that his wife had instilled into them. He laughed softly at the thought.
The gardens themselves were bright and colorful, like he had never seen them. Or rather, like he had not seen them in years. Now, to see the rainbow of colors that grew from the dark brown earth under his window was as natural a sight as the sun in the sky, and just as welcoming.She has worked so hard to make this castle into a home, and I could not be happier for it.
Technically, Alaric was meant to be working on this day. He had estate reports to finish. Bills from parliament he needed to read. Invitations to write and send, for he and Clara would be hosting a dinner party next week, and she would be loath if he forgot to send them on time. And yet…
Alaric found himself walking from his office because on a day as glorious as this one, it just felt wrong to be cooped up indoors.
He walked the halls of his castle, which were lit bright by the natural sunlight that shone through the open windows. Every door was open, and in every room the curtains were drawn back so that there would be no hidden shadows. And in those rooms, and through those halls, he heard the familiar sound of feet scurrying and servants chatting merrily as they walked.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” an elderly staff member said as she passed by. She had a stack of sheets folded under her arm, clean by the looks of it.
“Good morning,” he said with a smile.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” another smiled as he passed them,
“Morning,” Alaric said without hesitation. “Hope all is well.”
“It is, Your Grace! Many thanks for asking.”
Once, he had despised the idea of engaging in small talk with the staff. In fact, he had taken a sort of pleasure from the fear they held him in. There had once been just a dozen who worked here, none he knew by name, and most he rarely saw, save for when he needed something. Now, there were two score living in this castle, and he knew the names of about half.
“Ah, Mr. Winters…” As Alaric reached the foyer, he found the head of staff making his way lazily across its breadth. “Do me a favor, will you, check on Lady Marwood. See if she needs anything.”
