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“Oh.” She shivered, then laughed as Alan kissed her temple. “Right. I didn’t say yes.”
“And?”
“Hmm.”
“Christ.” His lips moved on her neck.
“Yes,” she said, and he turned her.
“I still imagine setting the stars on your brow.”
She could just barely see his eyes in the darkness, their faint shine.
“I like the stars where they are.” She found the edge of his face with her thumb. “What else do you imagine?”
“This,” he said, his mouth so close she felt his smile curve the air.
“This,” she whispered. “It’s so much better than anything I ever dreamed of.” Her smile touched his.
“And it’s real,” she breathed.
He kissed her, the taste sweet beyond all measure.
Epilogue
Two Months Later
The sun slanted through the clouds as Nina cut across the meadow. Fritz bounded ahead, leapt through the rails of a fence, and spiraled up the trunk of the old crabapple tree. Before she’d left the cottage, she’d tried to tuck him into the satin-lined basket with Lucinda, to no avail.
A princess for Prince Fritz. That was what was written on the card that came with the lovely young marmoset. No signature, but Nina knew who sent her. Jack’s wedding gift was a true beauty, with silky fur and bright black eyes. Fritz seemed dazzled, at first. But he’d quickly resumed his roving. Of late, Lucinda had been doing her best to make him jealous, or else—Alan’s theory—she’d developed a preference for Charlemagne. For her sake, Nina hoped she had formed an attachment to the gentle, constant old cat. Fritz was handsome, but rather a fiend. She reached the hedgerow beyond which the ground sloped to Priory Pond. The tiny, twisted branches were massed with green leaves. Too early in the season to glean for Aunt Sylvia’s hedgerow jelly. But the gooseberries on the hill were ripening. Her soon-to-be nieces, Mary and Arabella, would arrive tomorrow to help pick them.
Nina’s Sweets hadn’t yet opened for business. There’d been too much to do, finalizing the sale, replacing equipment, stocking ingredients for the wedding and beyond. But Nina had been baking in the new ovens, testing recipes. And Kate had painted a resplendent sign, which hung now above the door. nina’s sweets. Gold and pink and pale green, berries and birds in the corners.
It was nearly time to begin on the bride cake. Nina had decided on classic fruitcake, with an emphasis on plum. Massive, round, and multilayered, tiers separated by column stands. A labor of love and an advertisement, with sculptural elements, figures worked in marzipan.
She already knew the piece of cake she and Alan boxed to post to Italy for Claud would include a marzipan Fritz. The duke had made the trip to Pistoia with his son after all. When he’d returned last month, he’d had happy news to share with Alan regarding Claud’s improvement. Since then, the doctors’ reports had only gotten more encouraging.
Next summer Claud would join his sisters, picking berries on the hill. Join Alan for a swimming lesson in Priory Pond. And perhaps, join his father for a game of chess at the table beneath the plum tree in the cottage garden.
She could see the pond now, shining at the bottom of the hill, shaded on one side by the ancient oak, the tumbled-down stone walls of the ruined abbey protruding here and there from the thick green grass.
Birds twittered behind her in the hedges. The pond was placid.
For the past two months, she’d been mostly in Hensthorpe, but Alan had been coming and going, taking rooms at the inn and calling on her at the cottage.
Last night, he’d arrived to Hensthorpe late. Their visit in the parlor had been brief. But she couldn’t have mistaken his words—he’d told her to meet him here in the morning.
She stopped. And he surfaced. The ripple shimmered as it spread. He was cutting through the water, fast, and she raced the rest of the way so he’d see her before he turned.
He put down his legs and stood. He stood more easily these days. The pain still came and went, but without the same force. Fear and doubt no longer gave it fuel.
He grinned, flinging back his wet hair, long enough now to get in his eyes. He wore his black bathing costume. The thin fabric clung to his muscled torso, his lean hips. She couldn’t help it. She stopped again and stared. Windswept clouds flirted with the sun. One moment he was in shadow, the next, the light sparkled on the droplets rolling down his bare arms.
Gorgeous day. Gorgeous man.
A breeze at her back urged her to the water’s edge.
“What did you want to tell me?” She felt herself smiling, a huge, silly smile, and clapped her hands to her cheeks. As though it might otherwise overflow her face.
