Page 58 of Second Chances
“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes. Yes, my lord.”
“John,” he said.
“John.”
And then he smiled at her again.
He noticed that one of her hands crept up to the spoon and clasped it very tightly. Then she smiled back, slowly at first, and finally with all the sunshine that had caused him to love her five years before.
She felt delirious. She hardly dared believe that this was all happening.
“Are you not going to ask the other question?” she asked.
“The other question?” He bent his head closer and looked at her inquiringly.
“The other question you asked me in the library,” she said.
He looked blank for a moment, and then the smile—the startlingly attractive smile—returned to his eyes. “May I kiss you?” he asked.
“Yes.” She nodded and laughed. “Yes, that question. And yes, you may.” She was glad suddenly of the breeze that must have whipped color into her cheeks and would mask her blushes.
He kissed her.
And then she believed. It was far too unfamiliar and far too wonderful an experience to be imagined. And far too carnal. His arms came tightly about her waist and hers about his neck and his mouth opened as it met hers. Her own opened in response and they kissed deeply, warmly, and lingeringly, unheeding of the collie who pranced about them, barking.
“Mm.” His blue eyes were gazing into hers, heavy with what she could only interpret as desire. “Better even than I remembered.”
She smiled and reached up to smooth back a lock of his hair, which had fallen over his forehead.
“Will we go and tell Aunt Hetty and Aunt Martha?” she asked.
“And the rector,” he said. “I have a special license in my room at the house. I hoped I would need it. Or would you prefer to wait until we can return to your family?”
She shook her head. “My family is here,” she said.
He nodded and kissed the end of her nose. “The owner of Ty Mawr was very eager to sell to me,” he said. “Shall I buy it? Shall we make it our occasional home?”
She laughed. “Shall we plan the whole rest of our lives while we stand here?” she asked.
“I do not see why not,” he said, kissing her mouth again and then joining in her laughter.
“John,” she said and closed her eyes. “John. It suits you.”
“The tide is going to be murdering my boots soon,” he said, turning his head. “Shall we walk back? I have something to show you before we go to your aunts’.”
“What?” She smiled at him.
But he would not tell her. He took her hand and laced their fingers together and they walked briskly back toward the sand dunes, talking a little, lapsing into easy, happy silences occasionally. With her free hand she held tightly to her spoon—her love spoon. He took her over the dunes to the gates into the park of Ty Mawr and up across the lawn and into the woods.
“There,” he said, stopping at last and gesturing with one arm. “These are what you came trespassing for, are they not?”
“Oh.” She looked about her, her breath catching in her throat, tears threatening her vision. Everywhere, all about them, the daffodils were blooming. Bright yellow trumpets of bold hope and joy. “Oh, yes, I have always come here to see them. Every spring. There is no lovelier flower than the daffodil.”
“As bright and cheerful as the sun,” he said. “Just like you.”
She laid her head impulsively against his shoulder. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said. “How perfect this sight has made the morning.”
“We must always be here for the blooming of the daffodils,” he said. “We will come each spring. Perhaps next year we can bring our first child, Katherine, and show them to him.”
