Jericho’s eyes held a gentle smile, the edges creasing a little. "It's a new day. A new beginning for all of us."
Sampson nodded, his throat tight. Maybe this was the time he needed to speak to all of his brothers. They all still lingered around the graves, talking in small clusters.
He raised his voice a little. “I need to apologize. To all of you.”
The group turned silent once more, all eyes on him.
He forced himself to keep talking. “For trusting the wrong people. For letting all our sapphires get stolen.” He met Jude’s gaze so he would see the extent of his regret. Jude only watched him, his head tipped almost in curiosity.
Sampson had to keep going, so he shifted his focus to Gil. “For thinking I could fix my mistakes by myself.”
“Just glad you came to your senses.” Miles broke in, interrupting his speech.
“Yep. You came around, and that’s all we care about.” This from Jonah, who’d moved beside him. Close enough to reach out and ruffle Sampson’s hair.
Sampson ducked away, and a glance at Jonah’s face showed a devilish twinkle that reminded him too much of the pranks they used to play as boys. A lighter time that tugged another layer of weight off his chest. Could his brothers really joke about this?
“Next time, just ask for help instead of joining the enemy. All right?” Jude stepped next to him and clamped a hand on his good shoulder. “We’re here. All of us. Anytime. For anything.” He gave a squeeze, then let go.
Sampson nodded. “Thanks.”
A fresh start. Just like Jericho said.
Maybe he wasn’t worthy of his family’s love, but they were proving they loved him anyway. Unconditionally. Just as he was learning to love Grace.
As if sensing his thoughts, Grace glanced up, meeting his gaze over the top of Ruby's head. Her eyes sparkled with a tentative hope, a glimmer of the joy opening up inside him too.
A new beginning for them both.
* * *
Grace blinked awake as shafts of pale winter sunlight slanted through the window behind them. A new morning.
She glanced at Sampson to make sure she hadn’t awakened him with her movements. The laudanum usually had a firm hold on him in the mornings, and it took a while for him to come out of sleep.
His rich brown eyes stared back at her, less than a foot away.
Heat crept up to her cheeks at his direct look, but she allowed herself to smile. “Good morning.” Waking up in Sampson’s bed—in Sampson’s arms—had become her favorite part of each day.
They both slept fully clothed, of course. But she felt so…safe here.
That first time she’d laid in his arms and cried, something about his presence brought comfort, and he’d continued to bring comfort every time she needed it. The first night, he’d invited her to sleep there. The bed was so small that she had to lie with her head on his shoulder, snuggled into his side. He always kept his good arm around her, his hand resting on the curve of her waist. She’d never felt so warm and cherished. And safe.
He still watched her now, those warm eyes taking her in. “Morning.” His voice held that deep sleep-roughness, making a tingle slip through her. The man had no right to be so handsome, with those strong features and heart-stopping eyes. His gaze held a clarity this morning that hadn’t been there since his injuries.
"What are you doing?" She tried not to look as shy as she felt.
His gaze roamed her face. "You’re so beautiful.” He met her eyes again. “If I could, I would lie here and look at you all the time. Never sleep.”
Heat surged to her cheeks, probably turning her ears red. But his words wrapped around her heart, filling her with so much warmth. They'd talked a great deal these past few days, but they hadn't broached the subject of their marriage or what the future might hold.
She’d caught an appreciative gaze every now and then, but he'd not spoken to her like this, with such open admiration.
And she had no idea how to respond.
The last thing she wanted was to say the wrong thing and stop whatever he might say or do next. She craved him to be her husband in every sense of the word. A true partner, not just the arrangement he'd initially proposed when her father forced their hasty wedding.
Sampson's mouth curved in a rueful smile. "The hardest part of this broken arm is not being able to touch you the way I want to. To run my finger down your cheek and feel if it's really as soft as it looks." His eyes traced the path he described.
