Page 121 of The Devil's Pawn

He pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek. “True. And yes, I can give you that concession, but I have a condition of my own.”

“Which is?”

“Don’t pin your hopes on it happening.”

“I won’t. I promise. Plus, I’ll have nieces and nephews to babysit. Added bonus, I can give them back when they won’t stop crying.” I frown. “Unless your brothers and sister feel the same way about kids as you do.”

“They don’t. I’m the fucked-up one. Nicholas will probably impregnate Elizabeth on their wedding night.”

“You’re not fucked up. A horrifying experience changed the way you think. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s terribly sad, but I understand it. Truly, I do.”

He leans in and kisses me. “I love you, Mrs. De Vil.”

“I love you, Mr. De Vil, faults and all.”

The last month since returning home with Alexander has been filled with joy beyond anything I could have imagined. I’ve settled back into life at Oakleigh—a place I now think of as home. A couple of weeks ago, on my twenty-second birthday, Alexander took me out riding. He’d arranged for a picnic to be set up in one of the upper paddocks that gave a wonderful view of Oakleigh, and after we returned to the stables, there was Sundance, with a big red bow tied around his neck. My husband’s gift to me. I couldn’t imagine a better present than a horse I felt a connection to the moment he arrived.

Three days ago, I started working for Zenith. For now, I’m working out of Oakleigh—in Alexander’s mom’s old office no less—but when the time comes for me to travel to Malawi, Alexander has said he’ll accompany me for however long I need to be there.

While there are occasions I think about kids and how I won’t ever be a mother, my love for Alexander is greater than my desire to have children. I’m happy with my choice. All I want is him.

To prove how comfortable I am with my decision, I took the initiative and booked a follow-up appointment with his doctor for a top up of my contraception. Alexander has warned me that before long, his father will start asking questions about why I’m not pregnant yet. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but for now, I’m enjoying being back in the arms of my husband.

The temperatures have cooled in the last couple of days. Fall, or autumn, as they say in England, isn’t far away. I can’t wait to see the trees change color from green to golds, bronzes, and reds. Though I have a while to wait, according to Alexander, it still can’t come soon enough. We also have Nicholas and Elizabeth’s wedding to look forward to, and I’m eager to see Vicky again.

After what happened with my abduction, her parents sent her away for a few weeks to “Think about her actions.” Luckily, we have phones and have kept in touch. Poor Vicky blamed herself as much as her parents seemed to, but I’ve managed to reassure her that the choices were mine and mine alone, and therefore, if anyone is to blame for what happened, it’s me.

I fire up my laptop, but while I wait for it to boot up, I cross the office and stand in front of a paintingI’ve become obsessed with. It doesn’t matter how many times I look at it, I’m still in awe. It’s of a gorgeous sunset, and the oranges, golds, and bronzes of the piece are stunning. The beauty Alexander’s mom captured within the painting is incredible. It takes my breath away.

“She was a marvelous artist.”

I turn and smile at my husband as he strolls over to stand beside me. “She certainly was.”

“Landscapes were her thing,” he says. “She’d often head off somewhere on the estate, returning hours later with a painting of a scene that had caught her eye. My father keeps most of them in storage now, but for a few years after she died, they were dotted around the house.”

“You must miss her terribly.” I can’t imagine losing my mom. We have our fights, as I imagine most mothers and daughters do, but to know I’d never see her again would devastate me.

In the end, I decided not to confront my parents with what Alexander had shared with me on the beach in California. If they’d wanted me to know why they made that agreement with Charles, they wouldn’t have avoided the subject every time I raised it. Now I’ve sat with it for a bit, their reasoning doesn’t matter to me anymore.

“It gets easier to live with. Grief isn’t something you put in a box and forget about. It’s with you every minute of the day, but most of the time it’s suppressed. Then, out of the blue, it’ll get triggered, and suddenly you can’t breathe. It’s brutal and ruthless.” He rests his chin on the top of my head, and his arms snake around my waist. “That’s what it felt like for me when you weren’t by my side any longer.”

I spin in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t be. You didn’t leave me. I pushed you away.”

“But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Just as well, because I’d follow you wherever you went.”

“Stalker.”

“I don’t deny it.” He smiles, and my heart melts. When I first met Alexander he never smiled. But if I think back over the past several months, those smiles began coming far more often as we grew closer. I’m not one to pat myself on the back, but for that, I’ll take the credit.

“Oh, I meant to say, I found something in one of the drawers when I was making space the other day.” I slip out of his arms and go behind my desk, retrieving the snow globe I came across. It’s not like a cheap one you might find in a gift shop. This one is ornate and looks handcrafted. Inside is a family scene of six children gathered around a Christmas tree, opening presents.

Alexander breaks into a grin and walks over, taking it from me. “I’d forgotten all about this. Mum had this made a few weeks before Annabel and I were taken. She took a photograph of us all gathered around the Christmas tree, then commissioned an artist to hand make this.”

“It’s beautiful.”

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