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Chapter 11: The Storm
Diane rolled over.Several times during the night, she had rolled over and stirred partway from her sleep to recognize the way she was tangled up with Liam: her head on his chest once, then her cheek pressed to his back, later his arm tight around her middle, him pressing a kiss to her forehead and murmuring something.
This time her hand met with the crackle of paper, instead of his body.
She frowned reflexively in her sleep, batting her arm around, until the bizarre emptiness of the space woke her.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning into her wrist. It was a few moments of blinking in the morning light before she could properly focus on the page left on the pillow next to her.
It was her drawing of Liam from the other day. He had written her a note on the back.
I thought if I rode back early enough, I might recover your beloved collection from the church, and return by lunch. I am also hopeful that, a few hours unimpeded by my presence, you might make some sort of plan as to your future, but I am not a betting man. I should hope that its safe retrieval would ease whatever decision you come to.
Liam
P.S. I will keep an eye out for our goat.
She curled her arms around her knees, pulling them up to her chin. Her eyes flicked between taking in the room, her clothes on the floor, and rereading the note. Even alone, her cheeks warmed.
Whatever Liam thought of her unusual hobby, he was rescuing her drawings for her because he thought she would be more at ease knowing they was safe. Because he knew how much it mattered to her, all the effort she had put into amassing it. It was as gallant as anything had ever happened to her. Between that and last night, her chest felt full of flutterings and other dizzy sensations.
Diane put the note safely aside, and then rolled around in the bed, every few moments smiling to herself like a fool.
Diane thought she might float forever on this feeling, curled up in the afterglow of last night and the warmth the mere thought of Liam gave her, but her stomach wouldn’t allow it. Not after skipping dinner last night.
Her dress was rumpled from spending the night on the floor, but after she washed her face in the basin and put her hair up in a simple knot, she looked presentable enough. Hopefully she wouldn’t attract too many stares for being slightly unkempt. Diane folded up Liam’s note, tucked it into her sleeve, and went downstairs.
Diane hadn’t noticed the main floor of the inn at all last night, she had been too preoccupied with yawning to even look at it. There was a little parlor off to the side, a few guests already enjoying breakfast. She went immediately to the little table with the urns and tea caddy to pour herself a cup.
Last night hadn’t been like the rush of passion and frenzied touching in the garden. Every move, every breath between them had been deliberate and careful.
Diane could barely stop herself from pulling out Liam’s note again and reading it several more times as she stirred her tea.
She hadn’t been ready to tell him yes last night, but this— it made her heart feel complete. It was everything she needed to feel sure she could marry him, how he understood and respected her in all the ways she needed.
This might have been exactly the sort of love she’d thought she would never get to know. It was the sort of love she’d worried would be too much for her, that it would break her heart to feel. She did have all sorts of ill-feelings, jitteriness, and spasms in her stomach, but all of it was perfect.
She began to butter a slice of toast when she cast her eyes to the window, and froze mid-scrape.
Martin. Looking back at her.
Martin. Here.
