Lumbering to her feet once more, Tiffany smiled triumphantly as she held her arms open for a hug. “I think that is a wonderful idea.”
“But—” Ember began.
“And if Lyon is not ready for her to see her surprise, he should have kept a better eye on our sister, because Bonnie is clearly more than ready to see it herself.”
Surprise?
As Ember sighed in agreement and reached for a fresh gown, Tiffany turned Bonnie toward the mirror. “Now, dear, shall we practice turban-tying?”
Bonnie frowned thoughtfully at her own reflection, deciding she didn’t hate this new look. “No. Not yet. Let him—let them all—see the new me.”
Tiffany pressed a kiss to her cheek. “He will love you, Bonnie. Do not worry. We all love you.”
“Nay, more to yer right.Yerright! Yerotherright,” Phineas huffed in exasperation. “Moreright.”
Keith, who was hefting the other end of the type cabinet, scowled at Lyon. “Is he always this helpful?” he grunted.
Lyon just rolled his neck. “Phin, Keith says ye’re a lazy bastard who cannae be bothered to lift a finger but likes to give orders.”
“I didnae—” Keith began, just as Lysander hooted with laughter from where he was organizing the ink.
“He’s no’ wrong,” Sander called.
Phin sniffed. “That’ll do, gentlemen. Ye worked out yer lefts and rights. Put it down.”
Keith heaved a grateful groan as he lowered the piece of equipment, but Lyon merely grunted as the exertion pulled at his scars. Truthfully, the last weeks lifting and toting and moving and setting everything up for Bonnie’s surprise had been a balm for him. A reminder of how lucky he was to be able to use his body as well as he did.
A reminder of how he’d been able to save Bonnie in time, without further damage to himself. A miracle indeed.
“Well, lads, no’ bad.” He stepped back to examine their work. “No’ bad at all.”
He’d coerced his brothers into helping him, along with the small team of workers and skilled printers led by Mr. McCaffey himself. The presses had been difficult to obtain on short notice, but he was the future laird, and an earl’s son to boot, and he’d learned that such titles mattered to some people.
And money mattered to the rest.
These presses had come all the way from London, and he himself had been modifying them with the wrenches andbinders Keith had found for him. Lyon was certain they’d match anything the larger publishing houses had to offer, possibly even better.
With Bonnie choosing what to print, and him overseeing the mechanics of the operation, they’d be a force to be reckoned with soon enough.
“Do ye suppose that was supposed to be a compliment?” Phin mock-whispered to Keith.
Lyon sent him a scowl as Keith grinned. “Aye, likely. He’s no’ a talkative one, ye ken.”
“He’d best get better at talking then,” Sander called out, “and soon.”
When the three of them glanced at him, Sander nodded to the steps.
Lyon wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see when he turned, but seeing Bonnie standing there, her stepsister Ember holding her elbow, made his heart jump into his throat.
Should she be out of bed? Was everything ready for him to show her what he’d done?
And then she smiled at him, and all of his worries ceased to matter.
He didn’t even bother excusing himself from his brothers. He couldn’t even look away from Bonnie. In a sort of daze, he met her halfway up the steps and took her arm from Ember’s hold.
“I’ve got ye now, love.”
Ember winked. “I will see to Tiffany. Looks as if everyone else is giving you privacy too.”
