“You are that strong, my darling. You’re your mother’s daughter.”
“Perhaps.” Annis said softly, closing the book and hugging it to her chest. Emrys absently and inappropriately envied the book. His obsession with his wife was showing no signs of abating.
He drew her up into his arms and hugged her. “I love you,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck, as she dropped the book on the table and surrendered to his attentions.
“I love you, too,” she whispered, smiling up at him misty eyed.
He was the luckiest devil in the world.
Epilogue
Christmas 1818, The Castle, Leicestershire
The house wasfull of children, not that anyone seemed to mind, least of all Emrys. His own small fry were enjoying all the delights snow and ice could provide, with snowman building, snowball fights, sledding, and ice skating on the lake, all provided by mother nature.
His memories of Ewen’s fall into the lake in summer still vivid in his mind, he couldn’t help but be nervous of the ice cracking and dragging his precious offspring down to a frozen death. But after he, the duke, the duke’s brothers, and Ravenshaw all thoroughly tested the ice, he was grudgingly brought to agree that it was safe enough for the children.
A pity Pendrell wasn’t there. If it could carry his weight, it could carry anything. However, he was at his country house in Sussex, working on some new find uncovered by a land slip on the coast. Apparently, it was a pressing matter to record and recover the artifacts before wind and weather washed them out to sea.
Emrys ventured out with Annis, Ewen securely between them. Nothing and no one was going to stop him keeping hold of his son’s hand as he and Annis traversed the lake in lazy circles, while his girls and the Watsons skated past them at speed, shrieking and giggling when someone fell over.
Returned to the house and changed into dry clothes, the company assembled for Christmas Eve dinner before a roaring fire. The children packed off upstairs for their own meal and bed, the adults settled in for a convivial evening. Seated on the couch with his arm round Annis, Emrys reflected that happiness was an ephemeral thing, easily snatched away.
He watched Rob bending over Sarah with every appearance of loving concern as she placed a hand on her swollen belly. She was six months along now. She smiled up at Rob, and he sat beside her as she placed his hand where hers had been. The babe was kicking, Emrys guessed. He glanced down at Annis, talking to Deborah, Sarah’s sister, and knew a moment of longing to see her like that, swollen with his child.
She hadn’t caught yet, despite the amount of attention he’d lavished on her. But then she wasn’t as young as Sarah, who was only twenty-three. Annis was twenty-eight. He hoped it wasn’t too late for them to be blessed with a child, too. It shouldn’t be—he knew of cases where women had children well into their forties. And it had only been four months. Besides, even without more children, their life was full and happy.
He allowed himself to be drawn into a conversation with Hereward and Ruth, Sarah’s next sister after Deborah, on the best way to poultice a horse. All the while though, he was conscious of Annis beside him, the warmth of her leg pressed against his, the comfort of her snugged under his arm. The comfort she represented to him had not abated. If anything, it had grown even stronger with the passage of time. She was as essential to him as air and water.
After the tea tray, they retired to bed, checking on the children on their way. This was a nightly ritual unless he was away from home, in which case he did it by himself when he got in.
Standing by the girls’ bed, which they shared, with his arms still securely round Annis, he smiled at their angelic faces slightly flushed in sleep, curls escaping from their plaits.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he murmured in her ear.
She nodded bending to straighten the coverlet and ensure they were snuggly warm. “So sweet,” she whispered, planting a soft kiss on each forehead. He did the same and Lizzie murmured something that he thought might be “’Night, Papa” without opening her eyes.
Finally arriving in their own room, they went through their usual routine of undressing, washing, teeth cleaning, in a companionable silence. They had grown accustomed to each other’s habits by now and developed that comfortable way of being that made him realize even more starkly how different this was from his first marriage. With Annis it just felt right.
His limpet habits in his sleep hadn’t abated. He still woke wrapped round her like an octopus.Not that she seems to mind, but still... am I still insecure?
She had climbed into bed with a book, and he followed, sliding under the covers, bollock naked as always. She wore a nightgown in the cooler months, but he found wearing anything, even in winter, stifling.
“You want to read?” he said, nodding at the book.
“Depends,” she said with a smile. “I have a feeling you want to talk; you’ve been awfully quiet. Lots of thinking going on behind those eyes?” she asked, tapping his temple.
He smiled ruefully. “How do you do it? You always know.”
She shrugged. put the book aside, and settled back against the pillows, holding out a hand to take one of his. “Tell me.”
He sighed. “I’m not sure I can articulate it very well.”
She smiled encouragingly.
“Come here,” he said roughly. “I think better when you’re in my arms.”
She came willingly, resting her head on his chest, her legs tangling with his. “You’re sounding quite growly, my love,” she said.
