Page 92 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
“I have always been so selfish when it came to you, my wife,” Matthew said. “And unreasonable.” His throat bobbed. “I meant to do right by you, and instead, I have broken your heart, your trust—lost you.” The Earl turned and let out a bitter laugh. “Emma is a canny thing, and she is rarely wrong. I am a monster.”
“Matthew.” Lavinia’s voice was soft, and their father tensed. “Matthew, look at me.”
Slowly, the Earl turned, and Emma thought she sensed it cost him a great effort. More than she could ever know, for such a powerful man to allow himself to be so raw and broken by his mistakes—and his love.
“I am so sorry, Livvy,” he murmured.
Lavinia put her hands on his face and gave him a tremulous smile. “And I am so furious with you, but…” Her face creased. “Iforgive you—or I am close. Agnes wants that.” At that, Matthew startled and looked over at his daughters, while Agnes tightened her grip on Emma. “I want that, too. And… loath as I am to admit you are right…”
At that, Matthew let out a weak chuckle and looked back at his wife, some of old fire and mischief in his eyes. Emma started, suddenly realizing how similar Agnes and Matthew were. It softened her heart.
“You know that I always defer to you, Livvy,” Matthew murmured. “You are the wise one.”
“So, hark me now. Agnes told me of the Nuns and the old healer who cared for her,” Lavinia said. “And I wonder, if perhaps, you did save our daughter.” Emma felt a spike of temper and her mother looked over, giving her a warning look. “We shall never know. And we will go mad if we keep looking backward.”
Agnes drew in a deep, watery breath, and Emma looked to her, noting her twin was crying, but her eyes were shining. She seemed to be seeing their parents in a new light and a soft smile played around her mouth.
“I agree. Let us look forward and do our best to do right by each other.” Agnes drew in a deep breath. “After I give birth, I would be honored if you would both visit.” She glanced at Emma. “All of you. I shall need your help if the babe is anything like me or my sister.”
Matthew stared at Agnes, tears still tracking down his face, and he shook his head slowly. “You cannot have forgiven me.”
“Oh, Father, I believe the nuns and my husband would tell you that there’s no telling me what I can and cannot do,” Agnes said, with a bit of spice behind her words. “And I thought you understood that, too.”
“After all, she does take after you in that,” Lavinia said wryly.
Matthew mopped at his face, rough and sloppy movements that made him seem younger and more human. “I would be honored.” He looked at Emma and his mouth tightened. “And believe me, Emma, seeing you two together does make me realize what I took from you, your mother—and me. It brings me a terrible, terrible pain, guilt, and regret—and joy.”
Emma looked down and then pulled away from Agnes, needing a moment. She pulled in deep breath after deep breath. As much as she and Agnes had talked about this, what they needed from their parents was so vastly different.
“Emma.” Matthew had come over. “If you need to yell at me more, you may. Or send me away. You do not have to forgive me.”
“Do not tell me what to do,” Emma flashed. “And I am…”
“You cannot know how sorry I am that I made such a selfish choice—” Matthew swallowed hard. “Or that… when I learned Agnes was alive, I did not bring her home.”
“You knew?” Emma asked and whirled on him.
“Yes, I found out a year ago,” Matthew said. “By chance. We were in London, in the market, and I saw a nun staring at you. She made to approach you, then seemed to think better of it, and vanished.” His chest rose and fell, then he pressed a hand to his heart. “I knew, then. I made inquiries, of course, but I knew. She’d recognized you—and such a thing should have been impossible.”
“I would not have come,” Agnes said. At that, Matthew, Emma, and Lavinia all turned to her. “I would have chosen to stay, believe me. I only came…” Agnes gave Emma a wry smile and guilt twisted in her gut.
“Because I also take after our father,” Emma said. Pulling in a deep breath, she reached for Matthew’s hand and squeezed it. Her father jumped and gave her a disbelieving look. “I am sorry, too. And I… I forgive you.”
A weight seemed to lift from Emma’s shoulders, and she sighed, the relief of laying down a heavy burden.
“Thank you for coming such a long way to see me wed, Father,” Emma added softly. “And for apologizing.”
Matthew pressed a hand to Emma’s cheek, and she let out a hitched breath. “Of all you—you were the one I thought would never forgive me. Oh, Emma, Agnes.” He pulled Emma in, and then Agnes was there. “Oh, my sweet daughters. I am so sorry. I do not deserve you.”
Together, they hugged and wept and laughed a little. Sometime later, they got a hold of themselves and sat together, talking and snacking, trying to try at being a family.
While it was not as easy as when it was Agnes, Leo, Emma, and Grant, one day it might be.
After all, it was as Lavinia pointed out, “Your father might have made some terrible choices—but seeing the two of you so radiant and happy… I must say it has worked out. Somehow.”
“Well, I am a Wells,” Matthew said, with a glimmer of his old cockiness, and then laughed as Emma pelted him with a pillow, and Agnes followed.
Their laughter filled the room, and Emma thought she would enjoy seeing their parents as doting grandparents.
