Page 72 of Foes, Friends and Lovers
“Yes!” When he met her eyes, she beamed. “That’s precisely what we—all those on the estate—need. A champion who will shield us against threats from beyond the Hall’s boundaries.”
He smiled, drinking in the joy in her eyes. “You can deal with most of what occurs within our borders, but when it comes to threats from beyond—”
“I can’t protect the Hall from those.” She nodded. “Until you came, that was my greatest fear—one I’m sure the others felt as well—that something would materialize that we wouldn’t be able to handle.”
He raised their linked hands and kissed her knuckles. “Clearly, we see matters in the same light.” He halted and, when she stopped and faced him, looked into her violet eyes. “And the most unexpected thing I’ve discovered is how very much better that unforeseen role of protector and defender of the Hall suits me.”
Those words rang so very true. Until that moment, his thoughts hadn’t crystallized; explaining his thinking had taken him another step on. A further step forward in his evolution, or at least his understanding of that—of how he’d changed.
Holding her gaze, he went on, “My original vision of what my life here would be was an empty one. There was no challenge, no impetus to force me to change and grow. What I’ve found instead is that necessary challenge—the right one for me. And in learning to meet it, my life is already fuller than I ever imagined it might be.”
Raising his hands, he framed her face and searched her eyes. “You and I managing Bellamy Hall together, as a team, is what I want. Please say it’s what you want as well.”
Her smile was all the answer he needed, and her “Yes” set the seal on the moment.
He bent his head and kissed her, and with blatant eagerness, she kissed him back.
It was a kiss of promise, one filled with wonder and a growing, burgeoning appreciation of what their shared future could be.
Their lips communed, each using the exchange to express their acceptance of the other and of the future they hoped for.
Sadly, as they were standing on the open riverbank and, where she was concerned, he wasn’t any longer certain of his control, he kept his hands where they were and, when their passions, entwined, started to rise to compulsive heights, forced himself to pull back and break the hungry exchange.
He tipped his forehead to hers, and they stood and listened to their breathing slow.
Finally, when their passions had cooled and they were breathing evenly, he straightened, smiled into her glorious pansy-blue eyes, and reclaiming her hand, drew her to walk beside him along the path, back toward the lane.
She lifted her face to the sunshine. Her features were relaxed and content, and when her eyes opened, they met his with an assurance, a confidence, that matched his own.
She and Bellamy Hall, and the challenges both brought, were exactly what he needed to become the most complete man he could be.
Looking ahead, he refrained from tightening his grip on her hand, but made a mental vow that he would grasp any opportunity that presented to strengthen his hold on the Hall and on her.
Just in case her uncle turned up with the idea of her returning to Scotland and marrying one of his sons.
That wasn’t going to happen.
As much as the estate itself, indeed, arguably even more so, Caitlin Fergusson was an essential, integral element he had to secure to have any hope of achieving his now-desired future.
Chapter 10
On Saturday afternoon, Gregory was relaxing in the Hall library, flicking through the London newspapers, when Cromwell entered.
“Lord Ecton has called, sir.”
Gregory frowned. “Ecton?” Unable to place the man, he looked at Cromwell, who was doing an excellent imitation of a rigidly correct butler. “I don’t believe I know the man.”
“Lord Ecton is a neighbor, sir. His home, Ecton Hall, lies directly to the west and shares a boundary with the Hall estate.”
“I see. In that case, please show him in.”
“Very good, sir.” Cromwell turned and left, leaving Gregory with the distinct impression that he’d behaved correctly.
Curious to meet a neighbor who, apparently, was living in the area yet hadn’t rated a mention at either the Loxtons’ dinner or on the church lawn, Gregory set aside the newspaper and, when Cromwell returned leading the visitor, uncrossed his legs and got to his feet.
The gentleman who entered on Cromwell’s heels was of the type more commonly found gracing the smoking room of a London gentlemen’s club. Of average height and build, Ecton was dressed in the height of fashion, his coat a testament to his tailor’s art, his trousers perfectly pressed, his silk cravat ostentatiously high, and his waistcoat almost dazzling. The latter garment sported mother-of-pearl buttons huge enough to make Gregory blink.
Ecton’s features were passably handsome, and his dark hair was perfectly coiffed. And while his nose was a trifle sharp, his smallish eyes set a little too close together under well-shaped dark brows, and the line of his thin lips appeared rather peevish, none of those imperfections were sufficient to dull the image of a well-heeled, sophisticated London gentleman.
