“No boy would be. I imagine our sons won’t be. But you will love them dearly. And wish the best for them.”
“You have a big heart Jo, with room enough for everyone. Not everyone has that capacity.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “But you do.” She traced the straight line of his nose with a finger. Her feather-light touch across his lips and into the dip in his chin brought her close, and his body stirred. “Your work was all about helping unfortunate people, wanting good to triumph over evil.”
He drew her close. She was sensitive and perceptive, his bride. Having her near made him want her. The scent of her skin, her hair, her soft, wide inviting mouth, her essence, and her passion. He took control of himself. “We shall arrive at Seacliffe in an hour or two.”
She sat forward, a casual hand on his knee, warm and inviting. “What were you saying earlier about love and a carriage? she asked, smiling mischievously.
He pulled her onto his lap.
“Might be better to show you, darling.”
Epilogue
It was late in the afternoon when the coach passed through the tiny hamlet, which was the coastal village of Seacliffe. A mile farther on, they entered through a grand set of gates.
Jo clung to the windowsill, staring out as they continued along a drive bordered by hedges and trees bent by the wind. A glimmer of deep gray-blue water appeared through the foliage.
“I caught a glimpse of the ocean!” she cried, her pulse racing.
“The Irish Sea.”
The coach emerged from the trees, and the gravel drive took them along beside a sweep of lawn. A stone castle complete with turret and towers loomed ahead of them with the backdrop of the sea behind it.
For a moment, Jo couldn’t speak, then she turned half laughing, half accusatory. “You didn’t tell me it was a castle!”
As the coachman drew the horses to a stop, Reade edged forward on the seat with his hand on the door handle. “You’re not disappointed? It’s not the neat manor house I know you wanted.”
She poked him in the side. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“Castles are not the most comfortable of residences,” he said, turning to help her down. “I have attempted to make it so.”
A thin, grizzled man dressed in black opened the enormous oak door with a brass ring in the shape of a lion.
“I trust you had a pleasant journey, Baron.”
“We did, thank you, Hyde. This is Lady Reade.”
He bowed. “Lady Reade.”
Jo doubted she would ever grow used to the title. How did the daughter of a haberdasher arrive at this? “How do you do, Hyde. I plan to ask you a million questions later.”
Hyde bowed again. “It shall please me to answer them, my lady.”
They entered the soaring-roofed great hall, their footsteps echoing across the stone floors. Reade led her into a smaller chamber with furnishings of blue velvet and gold and an enormous stone fireplace. The furniture was of oak. Books
helves lined two walls, another wall taken up with windows filled with the sky and sea. A ginger-haired cat with a bushy tail sat curled up on the sofa. It leaped down and stalked over to Reade to rub against his legs. He picked the animal up and held it in his arms.
“So this is Alistair.” Jo stroked his soft fur. A vibration rumbled through his body. “He loves you.”
“He’s close to twenty years old,” he said. “You’re an old cat, aren’t you, Alistair?”
Alistair took umbrage at the reference to his age and leaped down from Reade’s arms to stalk out the door.
Jo crossed the brightly patterned Eastern rug. A hand on the damask curtain, she stared out at the windswept expanse of grass leading down to the shore. Birds wheeled about in the sky. She breathed in the salty smell and listened to the roar of the sea. Out on that wind-tossed water, Reade had lost his mother and brother when he’d been just a boy. Compassion for him twisted her heart. She turned to observe him where he stood at her shoulder.
She slipped her hand into his. “How extraordinary this view is. And how perfect a setting for my big Viking.”