Page 55 of Kismet

They might have continued without the notice of time passing them by if not for the startled maid walking into the room to gather the last of Catherine’s things. Pulling apart reluctantly, they grinned at each other before turning to the maid. Catherine smiled at the poor girl. “Thank you, Grace. Could you please make sure that the painting is securely wrapped and ready to be transported?”

“Yes, Miss, or… I am sorry. Mrs., or um…Lady? I am so sorry.” The maid stood there, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red, nervously twisting her hands together.

“Do not worry, Grace, I am hardly used to it. I think we will all need time to get used to the change.” Catherine was quick to try to reassure the maid before turning to Theodore. “So, would you like to bring your painting to Matlock?”

“Yes, I would like that very much.” Leaning down, he whispered into her ear, careful not to be overheard by the already timid maid. “I would also like to bring you Matlock. Do you think we can leave yet? I would like to be away with my new bride.”

Stepping back from Theodore, Catherine tried to think of where her maid might be. “We can say our goodbyes and leave soon, but first I need to find Lambert so that I can change into my traveling clothes.”

“We do not need Lambert. I can help you change.” Theodore's eyes sparkled with amusement as he gazed down at Catherine.

Catherine tried to look stern but found it impossible. “I have this nagging sensation that if you were to help me change, we would experience some sort of delay.”

Theodore’s booming laughter echoed through the room and down the hall, reaching the ears of everyone in the vicinity. It was something those who knew the pair eventually got used to. Theirs was a marriage, a partnership that would always be filled with love and laughter.

Epilogue

Theodore jerked awake. Sweat soaked his brow, and his heart raced. Forcing himself to hold still, he attempted to catch his breath and slow his heartbeat. The dream had been horrible, and the smell of gunpowder and blood still lingered in his nostrils. Where he had once had simple dreams of the horrors of battle, they had morphed recently, becoming much worse. Since his marriage to Catherine over a year ago, his dreams had slowly started to feature her, lost and hurt on the battlefield.

Theodore lay there, his forearm pressed against his eyes, trying to recover from his nightmare. This time she had been bleeding and calling for his help and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get to her. The only benefit of his vicious nightmares of late was that it was now much easier to overcome them than his dreams of before. All it really took was for him to roll over.

If he rolled over, he was able to see his darling Kitty lying in bed next to him. Her presence was a balm to his aching soul. Shifting onto his side, he watched her sleep. Her unruly hair sprawled across the pillow, seemingly torn between curling into waves or staying sleek and straight. Reaching out, he wrapped a strand around his finger and let it slide against his skin.

She needed her sleep, but he found he had a desperate need to be connected to her. He was uncertain how long he lay like that, watching her sleep, but eventually, he noticed her eyes were open, and she was watching him back. Even in her drowsy state, her eyes were focused and aware, and a serene smile passed fleetingly over her lips. “Did you have another dream?”

“Yes.” He didn't need to say another word; a knowing glance between them spoke volumes. She always understood.

Stretching languidly, she yawned, “Do you want to snuggle until it is time to get up?”

“You need your sleep,” Theodore's protested softly. There was no one to wake, but they still whispered as if trying to preserve the night.

Rolling her eyes, Catherine slowly wiggled closer to him and settled in to the crook of his arm, using him as a pillow. “I am not the one who is going to help with the harvest today. I will have time to nap later if I need to.” Setting her back to his front, she relaxed into him and drew his arm across her body, laying his hand against her swollen abdomen. “Besides, your child has decided that it is time to play.”

Smoothing his hand against her belly, he was able to feel their child move even through Catherine’s silky nightgown. “She must think the middle of the night is the best time to practice her archery.”

“Is she a girl tonight?” Catherine giggled softly.

Amazingly, a little limb pushed hard at its mother’s abused flesh and Theodore could almost imagine seeing a little footprint. Rubbing at the slight bulge, he tried to soothe the worn skin for his dear wife. “I would love another Artemis to spoil. I am already having so much fun with her mother.”

“What about your need for an heir? I would have thought you would want a boy first.” Catherine’s voice was curious, but soft with sleep.

“It is not like it was very hard for us to start this little one, and I am not opposed to practicing with a few daughters before we get a son. I am in no rush.” As he used circular motions to soothe their active child, a smile formed on his face as he buried it in his wife's hair. Theodore hoped he could get Catherine to fall back to sleep. The delivery was fast approaching and the larger their child grew, the more difficult it was for her to get around. By midday, she would frequently find herself drained, her fatigue evident in the droop of her shoulders and the weariness in her eyes. After tea, he would usually convince her to rest, but not always. His wife insisted on being a very busy woman.

She often wrote letters to all of her sisters and oversaw certain aspects of their new charity project. It turned out that his brother's property had the ideal setup for injured soldiers to overcome their limitations and learn to work with large animals through a horse breeding program. They also used the manor house there to give lessons in skills the men could use to become clerks or office workers. He knew Cedric would be proud of their efforts and was grateful his brother was still able to make a difference in the lives of others.

She painted also and they had a whole hall of paintings of family here at Matlock Manor. Of course, the painting of him and his brother had a place of honor in the center of the collection. That was on top of the fact that she oversaw all the household duties and made sure their tenants were well cared for. He recently had to encourage her to let the housekeeper go on some of the visits to the see the tenants. She was simply too far along in her pregnancy to be waddling all over the property.

With a yawn, Catherine nestled closer into his arm, her voice muffled. “How many daughters are we talking about?”

“Your mother had five daughters and I think you all turned out wonderful. We can spread them further out if you want.” Their child had finally settled back to sleep or whatever it did between bouts of exercise. His arm snuck around Catherine, and he leaned over to kiss her on the back of her ear. “What do you say, five daughters and two sons over the next twenty-two years or so?”

Humming softly under her breath, Catherine yawned again. “I say you are a crazy, crazy man and I love you.” Drifting off, she murmured something unintelligible about puppies.

Theodore's grin widened as he cherished the comfort of holding his wife close, feeling their hearts beat in sync. After they got married, it had been a startling revelation learning that Catherine talked in her sleep. While she rarely made any sense, it was always interesting.

And just like that, the haunting memories of his nightmare dissolved, leaving him with a renewed sense of clarity. The overwhelming presence of love in his life made it impossible for any ghosts from his past to find a place to haunt.

He knew the coming day would be a long one as he was helping with the wheat harvest. Hopefully, Catherine would remain indoors, engaging in light and effortless tasks to avoid exertion. There was no telling, but he would definitely assign Lambert and Barnes the task of looking after her. With only one month to go, he did not want to risk anything. Theodore eventually succumbed to sleep once more, soothed by the steady rhythm of his wife’s breathing.

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