Page 45 of Lady Mary's May Day Mischief
“Or the jungles of India.”
“The bedroom upstairs?”
“Now.”
He hugged her close and picked her up in his arms. “Leave that stick here.”
“I’m staying?” she asked with a chuckle.
“Don’t you want to marry me tomorrow?”
Alive in every nerve of her body, she ran her gaze over how delightful it would be to be naked with this man. “I do.”
“Then it’s convenient you remain the night, don’t you think?”
“Certainly.”
“You’ll promise to remain with me all our nights to come?”
“I will. Every night. Because I love you.”
“And I have always loved you.”
Epilogue
March, 1820
Lawton Abbey
Mary placed her two-month old baby to his cradle and tip-toed from the nursery. With deliberate care, she pulled the door shut, then ran along the hall to the master suite.
“I kept the bed warm for you.” Her husband lifted the sheets for her to climb in and she snuggled against his warm length. “Harry learns quickly to allow his mother to get her rest, too.”
She sighed, contented, and curled an arm around his waist. “He’s his father’s son in that kind regard.”
Their second child, the Lawton-Bridges heir, was an accommodating soul, who slept more than their first child ever had. Their daughter Collette was two, a bright imp, running everywhere, eager to touch every living creature in the forest and the river. Caesar, Mary’s talkative bird, encouraged her, having transferred his love from Fifi to the little blonde creature who fed him tidbits from the kitchens.
“As our first-born is her mother’s shadow in all things.” Blake swept her closer to him in the cozy comfort of their bed. “She asked me this afternoon if we could plant the acorn on your dressing table.”
“Ambitious girl.” Mary pulled back to stare at her smiling husband in the refracted rays of moonlight. “She’s proud her kale has sprouted. I can imagine she itches to grow a tree. What did you tell her?”
“I said she must ask you.” He cupped her cheek and thumbed the fullness of her lower lip. “That acorn is yours.”
“Ours, you mean.” She shook her head. “But I doubt it would grow. It’s been many a year in a warm and shady house. I wouldn’t want her discouraged.”
Blake toyed with the lace ties at the throat of her nightgown. “She must learn that not everything bends to her will.”
Mary studied her husband in the shadows of early morn. His face, a spectrum of grey, was so dear to her that she could draw his handsome features were she blind. Earlier the preceding afternoon, he’d received word from the Corps that his request to sell his commission had been approved. For many months, he’d been on half-pay due to the reduction in force of the Army. The year before, he’d served briefly in Quebec as adviser on a new project and been away from her and their daughter. The experience abroad was professionally invigorating, he said, but he’d longed for the peace of his wife and child. With his future now set as the lord of his manor, he’d seemed alternatively happy and pensive all through the day.
Mary trailed her fingers through his thick soft hair. “You have made much bend to your will. For that you must be proud.”
“Our tenants thrive,” he said.
“The crops multiply as do our profits.”
He grinned, proud of that. “You and I have also perfected a much better Mozart.”
“The man would be delighted,” she offered and they smiled at each other. “Plus the collapsible pontoon bridge you built to reach from Winston’s land to ours is a marvel that allows us the joy of their company at a moment’s whim.” Her cousin Winston and his wife Ivy kept the old custom between the families to visit. They crossed the bridge most Sundays with their oldest who was a fast friend of Collette.
