Page 94 of Managing the Major

“You do?” She tilted her head back to look at him. “Your canter this morning was a wonderful surprise, but I was too stubborn to tell you so.”

Alastair kissed the tip of her nose. “You are very stubborn, Octavia. I wonder how I might correct that? A lap or two around the paddock perhaps?”

“I’ve never been spanked,” she said hopefully.

His shaft actually jerked in response.

“Alastair…I believe you like that idea.” She pinched him again, but teasingly.

“Actually, it was my first thought on meeting you.” His lips trailed across her cheek to nuzzle the lobe of her ear. “To teach you some manners,” he whispered.

“Confound it!” he jerked away, his hand on the seat of his trousers.

“What?” she asked in alarm. “Are you ill?”

“Not at all. Freya bit me on the—well, you can guess where.”

She dissolved in laughter. “Well, she is very protective, and you threatened to spank me.”

“No, you suggested I spank you. You are both incorrigible.”

“Poor Alastair,” she said mournfully. “I fear your days as a happy bachelor are over.”

“Thank God!” He pulled her close again, keeping a watchful eye on Freya, who looked very satisfied indeed.

Epilogue

Octavia galloped across the lush pasture, reaching up to stroke the bay stallion’s neck. It was Alastair’s wedding gift to her, bred from one of the finest lines in Ireland—a horse worthy to be the cornerstone of their future success as breeders. As she turned the far corner, she saw her husband of three months standing near the gate.

It certainly hadn’t seemed that long since they took their vows in the parish church here in Lewisham. The ceremony was small, Alastair’s and Octavia’s families and close friends like Rafe and Sir William, and quite different from Richard’s extravagant ceremony. She wore the ivory gown embroidered with hummingbirds that Alastair loved so much, with a floor-length ivory veil, and carried a bouquet of fragrant camellias.

She wasn’t accustomed yet to waking next to Alastair in the morning, or even having him at her side as they groomed horses, both of them dusty and dirty. Her heart still leapt to see him waiting by the entrance to the Soldier’s Infirmary after she spent an afternoon visiting patients; or across the room at Almack’s, knowing he was hers, and they would go home together.

Richard offered the Kensington house as dowry after his family moved back to Merrick. Alastair refused initially, but Octavia assured him it would remain in the Merrick family and sit empty until someone’s child inherited it, so he relented.

Some days, they never left Kensington Square, sequestered in the bedroom for hours on end, or in the library as Alastair read while Octavia studied bloodlines and race results. They were a notoriously private couple, and although Octavia knew the ton wondered at the changes in her life, she was blissfully happy and offered no enlightenment.

They were, by turns, passionate and nonsensical in their love—avidly pursuing sensual exploration, and other times choosing to play games of charades, or cards, or hide and seek, which induced gales of laughter from each, and many indulgent smiles from the servants.

During more social intervals, they ventured out to walk or ride in Hyde Park and attended the occasional museum or concert. Weekly dinner parties at Merrick House were commonplace and often included Nerissa and Abigail, and sometimes Rafe.

But the weekends were spent at Fairfax. She dismounted at the gate, and the warm June sun fell across the landscape, casting a butterscotch glow over the emerald fields and the horses grazing in them.

As she closed the gate, Alastair came behind her, and his arms closed around her waist. He bent and nuzzled her neck.

“Hello, wife. How is the loveliest woman in England?”

“Hello, my love. Did the meeting of the hospital committee last a very long time? I expected you earlier.”

“I thought it might never end. There was quite a bit of discussion about adding a gymnasium, but I think we convinced the new board of governors that it’s worthwhile. The vote to hire the new doctor was unanimous.”

The methods applied in Alastair’s own rehabilitation had been so successful that he wanted to offer them to patients as well. His left leg continued to heal, but Professor Voelker and the doctors agreed there was too much damage to the nerves in his left arm to expect a full recovery.

“Did the professor come and speak about the gymnasium?”

“He did indeed, and I think that swayed the general opinion in our favor. Richard sends you greetings, by the way. They’re leaving tomorrow for Newmarket, and he thinks Firefox has an excellent chance in the Derby. Are you positive you don’t want to join them? I can take care of things here.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve attended more than enough hunt balls for a while. Did you bring our new charge with you, Alastair?”