Page 62 of Vow to Protect
“Wild horses couldn’t stop me from kissing her.”
“Eyes down, shortie.”
“But she’ll be here any minute.” Tilly wriggles on her seat and stuffs a pencil into her ponytail. “It’s been so long.” A tinkle echoes down the hallway and into the library where we’re studying an impressive globe. Champ barks. Tilly’s eyes pop up. “She’s here!”
She shoves her seat back and bolts. Curls flap her back as she runs. I follow behind, quietly happy she’s home too.
With both hands, Tilly twists the ancient doorknob and heaves inwards with determined independence. Aged oak parts, welcoming the brightest morning sun into the reception hall. Dust dances in the glare. Gretchen stands on the doorstep wearing the biggest smile. “Tilly!”
My daughter carefully hugs the woman who’s been a constant in her life. “How’s your tummy ache?” Tilly asks, linking fingers with her fragile nanny.
Gingerly, Gretchen lowers to her knees and gently pulls her closer. “All better, sweetheart. I’ve missed your beautiful face so much.”
Tilly nuzzles her cheek. “I’ve missed you too. There’s so many things I have to tell you.”
I hold out my hand and help Gretchen to her feet. “Great to have you back with us.”
Gretchen shrugs off her thin cardigan. “Thank you for arranging private hospital care and for taking care of the medical bills.” She palms her belly. “And for the flowers. One bouquet would have been enough.” Her lower lip wobbles. It’s been a fucking nightmare for all of us, including this sweet girl. “A delivery every afternoon meant the nurses had to hand out bouquets to other wards to make space.” She giggles softly.
“We wanted you to have something pretty to look at.” To give her hope for a happier future. “Well, we’re both really happy to have you back where you belong. How was the flight?”
“Short.” She squeezes Tilly’s shoulder. “A girl could get used to this warm weather.”
I pat her arm, lean in and peck her cheek. It’s a gentle note of appreciation and gratitude. She could have walked away from us, stayed in Ireland, left my daughter to grieve the loss of another female, yet she selflessly chose Tilly. Gretchen returned to the De Courcy household as a pivotal member of our family. “This is your home, Gretchen. Tilly will show you around. She picked a south facing bedroom for you which overlooks the vineyard.”
Tilly claps. “I want to introduce her to my angel, daddy. Can I take her now? Please?” She jiggles on the spot. “Can we finish up early?”
I grin down at her. There’s no way we can continue with lessons now. “Fine. Take a break. But you’re not missing your art lesson after lunch.” I wink when Tilly latches on Gretchen’s arm. “Gretchen, I’ll set up a painting station for you as well.”
I decided to homeschool Tilly until Malakai confirms Blaine is dead and buried. It gives me an excuse to be with my girl and keeps her by my side until she’s mature enough to fire a gun.
When Kaleb visits us, which is more often than not, he takes her to museums and art galleries while Freya and Syrus play in our pool. Their favourite is the Louvre, a few hours’ drive from our chateau.
Calvin arranged for a young university professor to teach classical history online and a French tutor visits every morning, except Sunday’s. Between horseback riding, swimming, archery and weekly trips to the local village park, she gets a well-rounded education.
“Come on, Gretten. I’ll take you to the stables first. Angel is enjoying the sunshine in the field.” Champ circles them, sensing excitement.
Tilly’s fascination for unicorns morphed into an obsession with angels. I purchased a pretty palomino gelding with a silky golden coat and snowy white mane once we secured a property with a stonewall courtyard. Then I bought a few more horses to fill the stalls, including a portly Shetland called Sherlock. It was a gift to Kaleb after he refused to allow Syrus to ride when he’s older. He gets antsy when Tilly and Angel pop over the fences in the paddock. I’ll not deny my heart doesn’t explode when she gallops with reckless flare, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the recent months—life’s too short and unpredictable. I can’t control destiny, but we can sure as hell enjoy every minute.
So, I gifted Kaleb a grumpy miniature horse which is closer to the ground and chose a stunning reliable cob for when Syrus is older. I’ll do anything for that kid.
When Tilly leads Gretchen down the hall, I watch them chatter and hold hands like they’ve never been apart. The final piece has slotted into place. It feels satisfying to be at peace for once.
I’m drawn to the fragrant scent of freshly baked cake, luring me through the renovated 17th century French chateau.
“Monsieur.” Our chef and master pâtissier nods at my entrance. This might be my home, but this is his kitchen. “C’est fini.” He swipes the edge of a porcelain plate with a cloth, showcasing the small-scale sponge dusted in cocoa powder.
“Perfection.” I bend over the kitchen island, inspecting the simple two-tiered cake that will eternally remind me of fucking. “Merci, Florent.”
He's unaware of the reason. That every morning, at my request, he bakes a unique creation to trigger my memory of her sexual sweetness.
“It is orange chocolate with a Chantilly cream filling,” he says in a thick Parisian accent. “I have a modern concept for tomorrow’s bake.” He folds his arms and props his hip on the counter.
“I can’t wait.” We shake hands. “The nanny has arrived. Can you organise a light breakfast for her and a strong coffee so she can keep up with Tilly?” I chuckle.
Florent smirks. “Perhaps a double espresso is needed, Monsieur.”
I laugh with him and gather a fork, then carry the plate through the kitchen to the boot room. Bursting free of the indoors, I’m met with a mild breeze of jasmine and lavender. I cross over the gravel yard to the newly erected outbuilding with glass panes and steel beams.
