Linthorpe stood at the top of the steps in the doorway of his own home, in buckskin breeches and a dark coat that suggested he’d been working rather than prepared to receive guests but had come out anyway. The Yorkshire light caught his fair hair and the grey of his eyes in a way the London drawing rooms hadn’t done. He looked, she thought, very much himself in a way that he had not quite managed in London, as though Acklan agreed with him in some fundamental way that life in Town did not.
Their eyes met.
Cori’s belly flipped.
And it flipped again when he inclined his head. "Welcome to Acklan.” Though Linthorpe addressed the group, Cori felt like he was speaking only to her.
Lord Daniel ushered Cait up the steps and the rest followed. The warm noise of arrival took over, and through all of it Hannah's voice carried, explaining the expressive face of Bread, the new foal, to anyone within listening range.
Cori quietly followed the group inside.
Acklan smelled of cold stone and woodsmoke and something older than either, something she did not have a word for but recognized immediately as the smell of a house that had been loved for a very long time and by people who had not always found it easy.
The castle was, in a word, lovely.
After settling into her chambers, Cori was anxious to explore the castle. She couldn’t help herself. After all, Acklan’s north turret had called to her ever since she’d first spotted it through the trees and she couldn’t wait to see it for herself. She climbed the winding steps and found a door at the top that opened onto a small stone platform.
The view she found was her reward.
It was the most extraordinary thing Cori had seen since leaving Bermuda.
At some point along the journey, she'd heard Lord Daniel mention the view from the turret, somewhere between his third and fourth account of Acklan's various excellencies, and Cori had not forgotten his words. She rested her hands against the low stone parapet and gazed out at the Yorkshire landscape that stretched out before her.
The moors.
She’d read about them. Lord Daniel had described them at some length and with a faraway expression. But nothing had quite prepared Cori for the reality of standing above them in the grey, August evening light and understanding, in her bones why one might love this place with a fierceness.
The moors were vast and austere. They were every shade of brown and gold and purple that Cori did not have names for. A wind came off them cool and clean and smelling of heather.
Bermuda was warm and saturated with color, a beauty that announced itself loudly and all at once. But this was something different. This was a beauty that asked you to stand still and pay attention and then rewarded you for having done so.
After some time, she spotted the two foals Hannah had described in the north paddock below. Small and leggy, standing close to their mothers in the cooling evening. She smiled at the sight.
Then she heard the door behind her, and she turned.
The Duke of Linthorpe stood in the doorway, a look of surprise on his face. It was rather clear he had not expected to find anyone else there.
"I beg your pardon," he said. "I didn’t realize..."
"Please don't go," Cori said, before she thought the better of it.
He stopped.
"I only meant," she said, with slightly more composure, "that the view is remarkable enough for two people. If you don't mind the company."
He considered this for a moment. Then he stepped out onto the platform and came to stand beside her at the parapet, not close, but close enough, and looked out at the moors.
She was aware of him the way she was aware of the wind, just by feeling the shift in the air beside her.
Neither of them said anything for a while. The wind moved through the heather and somewhere on the far edge of the estate a lapwing called, that tumbling cry she had come to associate with Yorkshire in just one day.
"Lord Daniel didn’t do it justice," Cori whispered. “The view from here.”
"I’m glad you approve," His Grace said, his voice low in his throat and made shivers race through her at the sound.
She wanted to say something clever, something that would capture the moment perfectly. Instead, she said, "The foals are in the north paddock."
The duke looked down at the horses. "Bread and Butter,” he said. "Hannah’s named them both. I wasn’t consulted, but I’ve been told that Bread has a very expressive face."
