Page 86 of His Duchess to Remember

Sliding down from the saddle, Malcolm approached the fence and leaned over it. His green eyes were fixed upon Octavia, who stood in shock, her hand to her heart, wondering which of her prayers had brought him back.

He is here. He is actually here.

She began to walk toward him, remembering to school her face into a mask of indifference. She did not want him to know just how much she had missed him; it was all too embarrassing.

“Papa!” Simon held up his arms to his father.

With effortless strength, Malcolm reached over the fence and pulled his son up. Brushing the rain-dampened locks of hair out of Simon’s face, Malcolm held him for a moment, but one look at Octavia, and he seemed to change his mind, putting the boy on the fence instead.

“Ye like the pony, then?” Malcolm asked.

Simon nodded, grinning. “His name is Caterpillar.”

“Caterpillar, eh? Well, that’s a fine name for the lad. He’s like those fuzzy ones I showed ye in the garden.”

Simon burst into laughter, nodding harder. “That’s why his name is Caterpillar!”

Octavia had thought it was a strange name for a pony, but now she understood that it went far deeper than a childish choice of name; it was a link to her son’s father. A means of remembering him that she had not understood.

“Do ye think that Caterpillar and Rogue can be friends?” Malcolm asked, the huge stallion and the tiny pony currently sniffing one another through the fence, assessing each other.

“Yes. Friends. But… maybe they don't live together,” Simon said thoughtfully. “Rogue… Rogue would squash Caterpillar.”

Malcolm smiled. “Ah, ye think Rogue might accidentally squash him if they share a stall? I think ye’re probably right, but they can eat grass together in the paddock.” He plucked Simon off the fence, holding him against his side, and opened up the gate. “Shall we see how they get along?”

He led the stallion in and the fearless pony stood his ground, the two animals sniffing and nosing one another, until… they both seemed to lose interest and wandered off in their own directions to eat some of the sweet grass.

“They not like each other,” Simon lamented, stricken.

Malcolm chuckled, a rumble from deep in his chest. “On the contrary, laddie. That means they’ll get along very well. It’s only when horses start biting and kicking each other that ye ken they don’t like each other, but these two? Aye, they’ll be just fine.”

The little boy brightened and, as Malcolm set him down, he ran off toward the pony.

Even at a distance, Octavia could hear her beloved son telling Caterpillar that he had to be nice to Rogue, and share his grass, and that he wasn’t to bite or kick in case he accidentally got squashed.

All of a sudden, Malcolm was there at her side, casting a shadow across her.

“You might have written,” she said crisply.

“I figured I’d be here before my letter, so I didn’t bother,” he replied, his eyes gleaming with joy as he watched his son.

Octavia swallowed, wishing he would look at her instead. “And… what is the purpose of your arrival here?”

Are you staying? Are you just here for a short while, so our hearts will break again when you leave?

“I mean to take up residence in the old Dower House,” he said. “I ken it’s nae being used.”

She turned to him, a gasp slipping from her lips. “Pardon?”

“I intend to stay here in England until Simon comes of age,” he explained. “I don’t want to miss a moment of him growing up, but I won’t break the rules of our agreement. This house is yers; I gave it to ye, and I won’t intrude upon it. So, I’ll be turning the Dower House into my residence. Ye get yer peace, and I get to see my son grow up.”

The Dower House was a pleasant building to the north of the estate, on the edge of ancient woodland, with lovely gardens that were as well tended as the main manor’s gardens. The building could just be glimpsed out of certain windows and was, perhaps, a fifteen-minute walk away.

And it is still too far, her mind whispered.

Her voice, however, would not admit to that. After breaking her trust and putting her through the agony of his absence, she was not ready to forgive so easily, even if she was beyond thrilled that he was right there at her side, where she wanted him to be.

“Would that be acceptable to ye?” he said, as he gazed at her.