The wagon rolled into the yard, and movement on the porch pulled her attention. Bea stepped out first, her small frame wrapped in a thick shawl against the cold. Then Mandie appeared behind her, and Rose’s chest expanded with so much relief.
Mandie looked wonderful—pale perhaps, a little unsteady on her feet as she gripped the door.
But whole. Alive. The round swell of pregnancy had diminished, replaced by the soft curves of a woman who’d just brought new life into the world.
Where was the babe?
Thomas reined the team to a stop, and Rose was already moving, climbing over the side of the wagon before anyone could help her down. When her boots hit the packed snow, she stumbled—her legs stiff from the cold ride—but caught herself.
And then Bea was there, pulling her into a fierce hug that smelled of bread and wood smoke and safety.
“Foolish girl.” The words came out rough against Rose’s hair. “Running off like that. Had us all worried sick.”
Her eyes burned as she let herself sink into the embrace, breathing in that familiar scent of comfort and belonging. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Shh.” Bea pulled back just enough to cup Rose’s face in her weathered hands, her dark eyes scanning every bruise, every mark Vincent had left behind. Her expression shifted—softened and hardened all at once—and her thumb brushed across Rose’s cheekbone. “You’re home now. That’s what matters.”
That word again. Home. How could four little letters mean so much?
“My turn.” Mandie touched her shoulder.
Bea pulled back with a chuckle as Mandie closed in.
Her arms came around Rose in a careful hug, gentler than Bea’s fierce embrace, but no less meaningful.
“Thank God you’re safe.” Mandie’s whisper warmed Rose’s ear. “Now that I finally have a sister, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.”
Sister. Rose had to blink hard against fresh tears. She’d never had family beyond her mother, and even that had been stolen away too soon. Now so many people she would soon call family.
Behind them drifted the sounds of Thomas and Robert helping James down from the wagon. His sharp intake of breath cut through her overwhelming emotions. He needed to be inside, resting that twice-broken leg.
She pulled back and sniffed to rein in her composure. “Where’s the babe? And Enoch?”
Mandie turned to the front door, which stood ajar. “Come in and see them. It’s so cold out here, Enoch didn’t want her in the wind.”
Rose almost chuckled. She could certainly imagine Enoch would be protective of his new daughter.
James was already hobbling up the porch steps, a brother helping on either side. She waited to enter with him. She wasn’t even real kin to Mandie’s baby, so she shouldn’t be the first to see her.
But James motioned for her to step in before them, the corners of his eyes creasing in a smile that said he knew how much she wanted to hurry inside.
The warmth of the great room wrapped around her. The familiar scents—pine logs and wood smoke and something baking in the kitchen—settled into her lungs, and another wave of emotion threatened to undo her completely.
Mandie crossed to her husband, and the sight of him nearly stopped Rose’s breathing.
The big rancher—Lord Enoch Balfour, heir apparent to the Duke of Clarence—cradled a tiny bundle against his broad chest, his large hands supporting the infant with such reverence, such tenderness. Something warm and bright unfurled through her chest.
He looked down at the baby with an expression she’d never seen on his usually guarded face—a wonder so raw it trembled in the lines around his mouth, tangled with the fierce protectiveness that was Enoch to the core.
This wasn’t his child by blood. James had told her that much during one of their conversations at the ranch, explained in careful words about the awful thing that had been done to Mandie before she’d ever found her way here, before she ever met Enoch.
But the love shining in his eyes now could only belong to a father gazing at his newborn daughter.
Maybe blood didn’t matter as much as everyone always said it did. Maybe family was built out of love, sacrifice, and being there when it mattered most. Not simply born—it was chosen.
Behind her, James’s walking sticks tapped against the floor as his brothers helped him inside. He came to a stop beside her, and she glanced up at him. His eyes glistened as he took in his brother.
What a perfect family they made. Enoch and Mandie and the babe that was theirs to treasure.
