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"Did I?" Lord Beckham crossed the road with concern in his face.
"You mentioned that a matter of some importance drove you to seek a faster path to the Emerys estate... or did I imagine that part?" Lady Havenshire asked, her cheeks burning bright pink.
"You did in fact hear correctly," Lord Beckham said, his voice rattled; he could tackle a dozen bandits, but the matters of their affair still shook him to his core. She smiled. She could certainly appreciate that sort of humility in a man.
"And what purpose, might I ask..." she broached the question calm and coyly. "...would you have, being present at Emerys manor, m'lord?..." He approached her cautiously, slipping his hand into his jacket and retrieving a piece of paper - crumpled, crushed, and ripped, with ink stained in swirling circles along its surface. He unfolded the parchment and revealed it to be the contract - the one she had thrown at him, had trod angrily upon. She breathed a sigh of displeasure, looking away.
"You haven't signed this contract, m'lady." Suddenly she felt strong hands upon her; grasping her chin, cupping it close, turning her face back in his direction; she resisted, tears welling up again, shivering as another wind pressed along her back.
She winced as she heard the slow shrrrrk of him tearing the contract in half. He did it again, and again, until only tiny pieces fluttering in the kicking winds remained. And when he opened his palms he threw the shreds into the air, letting the wet whirlwinds carry them off across the treetops. She exhaled shakily, the hand on her chin feeling so strong; so divine. And he needn't say another word; trancelike and wanting she rose to her feet, her legs wobbling and rubbery; but she felt strength fill her anew when their lips met again, the fire sparked fresh; the desire renewed.
"I had to away to Emerys to ensure that you never signed it," he said, their noses touching; their hearts beating together, their souls afire. "Because I don't want a loveless marriage. I don't want convenience, I don't want any of that - what I want, what I've wanted since that night we sat together, since the night we made one another smile - is you. It's all I've wanted, Nadia. And if you tell me that I can't have that, that I've ruined that with my stubbornness, with my self-loathing, with my dedication to failing, then I will leave here and never speak with you again. But I will never forget you, or the time we shared, or the love that I let die in my heart."
"I don't want to let that feeling go. Since I saw you, I knew you were different," she admitted tearfully, grasping onto his waist with all her strength, her spine shivering as the leaves whipped up around them. "I've wanted freedom my whole life, but it's only with you I've learned freedom doesn't preclude the touch... the love, of a man," she admitted with a shudder. "In fact, I... I think... it's only with you at my side... I'd ever truly feel free." Their lips met again with all the passion and power in the world; not even in their most passionate moment together had they known this sort of full and freed desire. He swept her into his strong arms, holding her close and warm against the batter of the breeze; and as a cloak of red-orange autumn leaves swirled around them, their lips embraced and their bodies surrendered and they became one another. A sound of soft sobbing interrupted them, their kiss breaking as they looked to roadside to see old James, his suit muddy and lopsided, crying his eyes out at the sight of the two of them embraced and exchanging words of passion.
"She's broken that spell you've been under for so long," James sobbed, the old man's face ruddy. "Ms. Cauthfield and I've wanted nothing more than your happiness for so long, m'lord. To hear those words come from your lips, and to hear them so lovingly reciprocated, from someone so deserving of your affection..." he blubbered. "I can scarcely contain the joy, m'lord."
"James, has Ms. Cauthfield left our service yet?" Marshall asked pensively.
"Oh, come now, m'lord, you know that old witch couldn't ever leave us," James said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Try as you might, m'lord, you'll never be rid of the two of us. She'd never have it, and she certainly will be brimming in pride to take credit for having forced you to confront yourself and realize you needed to make right with Lady Havenshire."
"I'm certain she'll badger me until the end of times about that," Lord Beckham sighed wistfully. His arm slung around his love, he looked down to Nadia, who herself had begun to cry streams of joy.
"I've never truly felt freer, Marshall, than you've helped me be," she admitted.
"Unf
ortunately, we've some more detritus to attend to, haven't we," Marshall grinned; a single bandit remained knotted down on the side of the road, groaning in pain. Lord Beckham approached the lawless cretin, hoisting him to his feet; as he dragged the man to the carriage, Nadia followed along with an impish smile.
"You've been practicing your fighting and shooting techniques, I would assume," Lady Havenshire teased, "...have you perhaps been practicing your riding techniques, as well?"
"M'lady, Ms. Cauthfield often enjoyed reminding me that love and relationships are about a great many things, one of which is sacrifice and giving to your lover," Lord Beckham responded facetiously, tossing the groaning criminal into the carriage and slamming the door shut, sealing it by placing his rifle across the latches to the door. "Unfortunately, there's one sacrifice I won't make - even for a woman as amazing and as beautiful, as talented and intelligent, and as free as you," he teased.
"Come now, m'lord, was Pierre certainly that difficult a horse to get along with?" Lady Havenshire laughed. "I could teach you, you know. It's not quite too difficult a task. Particularly, I would imagine, for a man capable of trouncing an entire half-dozen bandits with only a long stick to help him."
"A half a dozen bandits couldn't dare stand up to the stubbornness of old Pierre," Lord Beckham grumbled. "I think I'll be riding at the head of the carriage instead. James?" The loyal butler mounted the front bench of the carriage, still wiping tears from his eyes; her smile absolutely infectious, Lady Havenshire hopped upon Shadow's back, sighing in satisfaction as her steed clopped to life excitedly.
"Are we making our way back to the Emerys estate, m'lord?" Nadia asked excitedly.
"No, unfortunately - I feel we have a few stops to make first," Lord Beckham responded.
"Where to, then, m'lord?" James asked, so full of pride at seeing his master broken from the stupor that had afflicted him for so long.
"Well, I'm certain the local sheriff would have quite an earful for these criminals we're hauling, don't you think James?" Lord Beckham asked.
"I think he'd have quite a few things to say to them, indeed," James agreed.
"To the sheriff's then?" Lady Havenshire asked.
"And I think a second stop off - at the church? It's quite lovely for weddings this time of year," Lord Beckham added with a grin. A crack of lightning flashed and thunder followed - the sound of rain striking distant leaves filled the air, and a conspiratorial smirk covered Nadia's face quick.
"I'll race you there," Lady Havenshire responded happily.
"I'm certain you'll win," Marshall quipped.
"As long as we have love, Marshall, we both win," Nadia said.
EPILOGUE
