Page 63 of The Lyon Loves Last
Caroline picked up the slips of paper at the center of the table.
In Felix’s scrawling hand: a pint of ale.
In Garrett’s steady pen: Hawthorne House.
The paper fluttered back to the table.
“I’m dealing this time,” Felix said. “Clearly the man is mad. He’s playing a prank, but just in case he’s not, I’ll win it back. I swear.”
“I need to speak with Felix for a moment,” Caroline said, settling a hand on his shoulder.
The face he lifted to her mixed rage with sorrow. She needed to put the poor man out of his misery, so she pulled him into the hallway.
Felix looked as if he might hit his knees before her, beg for mercy. “He won’t hold us to it, Caro. It was a mad prank. Stupid of me to jump in without knowing the true stakes, but I do like a bit of risk. You know that. And since I’ve stopped risking my life—”
“For which I daily thank you.” She popped up on toe and kissed the tip of his chin. A year ago, when he blazed into the fire to save Hawthorne, she’d realized no house, no plan, no greater purpose mattered if Felix lost his life. No, she’d realized that sooner, but watching him risk himself to save her dream had put things into stark perspective.
“You do not seem angry.” He narrowed his eyes, held her out at arms’ distance. “Are you unwell?”
“I’m quite well. It’s only… I’ve been thinking, Felix. I intended to mention it to you sooner, but I wanted to construct the perfect plan to lay before you first.”
“Of course you did.” He pulled her close, kissed her well. “Christ, that makes me want you. In our bed chamber. Now. Do you think Garrett will mind if we pause the game for a bit? I’d like to hear about this plan. In bed.” Felix had moved into Hawthorne with her as soon as the house had been deemed structurally sound. Thank God the fire hadn’t stretched much beyond the conservatory, but for the smoke. He’d had nightmares here and there. He might always. But he no longer seemed suffocated by the home where he lost his family. He said he was building a new family and filling Hawthorne’s halls with happiness to decimate the shadows.
Caroline drew a heart on his chest with her fingertip. She took a deep breath. And she jumped without knowing all the answers. “Iwantto give the house to Garrett and Chloe.”
Felix froze, his eyes narrowing again. “Did Garrett know?”
“I’d mentioned it to Chloe. To see if they’d be interested.”
“That donkey’s arse.” When Caroline laughed, Felix stroked her hair. “This cannot be what you want. So I can only think you are anticipating my desires. And Caro, you must know by now that my desires are yours.”
She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of being well and truly loved. “Yes, you lovely man. It is only… Hawthorne is complete. The fixing of it, the creation of it. The planning of it. And I grow restless thinking of day after day sitting still. The work still to be done here is necessary, important, but perhaps I am not the one to do it.”
“What do you want, then?”
“To travel. To meet those thinking new ideas and changing the world. To plan, perhaps, another Hawthorne. Somewhere else in England. We will need to scout locations and find donors willing to be quiet about their largess. We will need the connections that come with your title, as well, and—”
“God, Caro-mine, you’re glowing.”
She felt like it. Felt bright as the sun.
“You’re sure this is what you want?”
“Yes. Every day I feel it more and more. But”—she flattened her palms in her chest, rested her cheek between them—“how doyoufeel? You’ve only just come to terms with remaining here, and I do not want to abandon this place if—”
“Here.” He pulled a note from his jacket pocket, held it out for her.
She unfolded it and read:
Dear Caro-mine,
If you are so inclined, meet me in our bedchamber in a quarter hour for a kiss. I can think of no one more suited for the activity than my wife. And just in case you are not adverse to children at some unfixed point in our future, it is wise we practice the making of them as much as possible.
Yours, Felix
“When did you write this?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Some days ago. Kept it in my pocket. Waiting to be used.”
