DEED OF GIFT
To Miss Mariana Wylde
the property henceforth known as Piccole Nuvole
By James Duncan Blackmore, Duke of Valkirk
Piccole Nuvole.
Little clouds.
“What on... what is... I don’t under...”
She slowly lifted her head to find Mr. Malloy grinning at her. And then he stepped to the left.
To reveal, standing on the path before her, the Duke of Valkirk.
She stared. Whatblissto see him in the sunlight.
For the time it took a bird to trill the first few notes of an aria, they feasted their eyes upon each other.
“Would you be so kind as to go for a walk with me, Mariana?” His voice was a little gruff.
He extended his arm.
It was a long moment before she could speak.
“I would be so kind.” Her own voice was a mere thread.
She looped her arm through his.
And for a time—minutes, hours, days, epochs? They strolled without a word. Outside of time. Side by side. Along a pathway lined in a picturesque, ancient stone wall, wildflowers taking anarchic advantage of the gaps in the stone to bob over the path.
If she had actually died out there on the roadinside the hack, she was satisfied with how eternity was progressing. If she was dreaming, she would happily never wake. She would also have enjoyed the feel of his warm naked skin pressed against hers, but she would settle for this peace, this velvety contentment, the floating along on this day while her old nemesis, hope, bore her along on wings. As long as he was here.
He’d remembered about the musicians and Mr. Malloy. He’d ordered aristocrats to her event. She knew somehow he had done it.
She didn’t know what was happening now. Or why, in her other trembling hand, she held a deed to a property that he seemed to have given to her.
But she would learn in due time, and something told her she now had all the time in the world.
He stopped when they came to a little wooden fence. Beyond it, pasture lands were heaped like soft, green blankets as far as her eye could see.
And scattered over them were enchanting, fluffy white sheep with sweet, long faces and ears that flickered at the sound of their approach.
She slipped her arm from his and moved along the fence. Her heart kicked inside her like a jackrabbit.
“I bought the property back from my son,” he told her simply, quietly. “And I’m giving it to you. This land and everything on it should provide safety and shelter and an income for you and your mother if you choose to bring her to live with you. It’s yours. If you want it.”
He took a long breath and slowly released it.
“Or it can be ours... if you want me.”
Her lungs stilled.
Her heart felt tight, like a bud. It yearned to unfurl.
She was not yet brave enough to let it. He had more to say, and she would need to hear it first.
