Bride?
Her jaw dropped, her fingers suddenly clammy against the heat of his. Was this his way of proposing—or saying that he’d found another? Ought she pull away or lean into him?
He made the decision for her, drawing her ever closer. “That is, only if you agree, Amelia, to be my wife. There is no other love for me but you. No other woman with whom I want to share my life. Will you have me?”
Her breath caught.Wouldshe have him? This man of strength and compassion? Of healing and integrity?
“Oh, Graham—” Her voice broke as she rose to her toes and kissed him full on the mouth.
“Yes.” She grinned. “But I don’t need Cairo. All I need is you.”
“Would that I could give you more. More than me. More than Egypt.” He skimmed his fingers across her cheek. “I would give you the moon, the stars, the very breath from my body, and, were it in my power”—his brow lowered, along with his voice—“I would give you back your brother.”
“Ahh, love. Don’t you see? Colin is finally free of all his brokenness and imperfections. How can I wish him back from that? Besides…” She pressed one hand against her chest and the other against his. “He does live on, in both of our hearts.”
“So shall it be.” His words were husky as he covered her hands with his own.
“So shall it ever be.”
THIRTY-THREE
“And now, with the world before me, whither should I bend my steps?”
One year later, Devonshire, Balfour Country Estate
Time did heal wounds, but not scars. Never scars. The permanent marks on Amelia’s heart were sometimes still tender and other times numb, always, though, a reminder of the past—as was the boisterous whoop-whoop-whooping of a boy gone wild beneath the summer sun.
Arching her back, Amelia worked out a kink and gazed past the garden to the pond, where Nemo chased a gaggle of ducklings with flailing arms. She smiled. How many times had Colin done the very same as a young lad?
Next to her, Betsey straightened, the flower basket on her arm swinging with the movement. “That boy needs more chores.”
“I suspect you and Mrs. Kirwin will remedy that situation in no time.” Amelia raised a brow at her. “But keep in mind Nemo is a child, not a workhorse. Play is the labour of the young.”
Betsey batted away a blackfly circling her head. “You dote on him overmuch, I think. Excess kindness will not erase the harshness of the boy’s earlier years.”
“True. Only God heals the past, but I have learned that kindness makes the present all the sweeter.” And it did, for not a day had gone by this last year as Graham’s wife in which she didn’t cherish his frequent indulgences. A hidden love note tucked into her pocket. Whispered words of affirmation as his head lay next to hers on the pillow. How he insisted on serving her drinking chocolate in bed before her day began. She would always hold a special ache in her heart for her lost brother, but Graham’s love had mended and healed in ways she’d never expected or could possibly explain. Her husband was a beam, solid oak, girding her world when all else had collapsed.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel path.
“And so I am graced with flowers amongst flowers, hmm?” Graham’s voice was as warm as the June day. He strode towards them, his worn medical bag hanging limp in his grip, his hair ragged and windtossed where it peeked out beneath his hat. His suit coat was rumpled. His neckcloth undone. And no wonder. He’d been called out late last night and been gone ever since.
A snort puffed from Betsey’s lips. “You’re the only bloom that man sees, missus. I’d best hie myself off before my ears burn with what a respectable spinster ought not hear.” She reached for the peonies in Amelia’s hand then swiped up the scissors lying forgotten on the ground. Tucking the items into her basket, she marched away, dipping her head at Graham as she passed him. “I’ll let Mrs. Kirwin know to set your place at dinner.”
Amelia smirked. Though her maid feigned a great distaste of their marital bliss, deep down, she knew the woman not only approved but perhaps even longed for the same for herself someday.
“I thought she’d never leave.” Graham winked as he set down his bag, then drew her into his arms and kissed her breathless before pulling away.
Amelia couldn’t help but grin. “You are wicked to tease Betsey so.”
“Me? Wicked?” He lifted his chin. An imperious look. Altogether roguish and handsome. “You may wish to revise your opinion of me, Wife, for I come bearing gifts.”
“Oh?” She peered over his shoulder as he rummaged in his bag. There didn’t appear to be any brown-paper packages nestled inside.
“Well, letters, actually.” He held out two envelopes, his earthy scent of sage and lemon blending with the sweetness of peonies. “I stopped by the post on my way home from delivering the Williams’ baby.”
She flipped over the first missive. Odd. No return address. Running her finger beneath the wax seal, she peered up at Graham. “All is well with Clara, I hope?”
He went on to explain the details of the birth while she skimmed the short note, and though her attention was divided, his words and those of the letter curved her lips.
