night world returned to its familiar course.
Hugging her cloak about her, Letty took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I was only married for a very short time,” she said without looking at the silent figure who stood beside her, not touching her. “Only three weeks, really, before he went away. But then I had the twins, so...so you know that I...that we...”
“I know, of course. I have always known, and that in itself makes no difference.” Harry paused, then went on hesitantly, “You never speak of him, as your mother does of Sir Jeremy. Do you still mourn him so deeply?”
“ No!” The denial exploded from her, followed by the dreadful confession. “When I heard of his death, I felt like a bird set free from a cage.”
“What did he do, that his death came as a release?”
The suppressed violence in his voice reminded her that he had survived in the wild places of the world. She felt almost as if she ought to protect Bart.
“He was...not very kind. I suppose he did not find me attractive. He was out a great deal, and when he did come home, he...he hurt me. Not on purpose. I cannot believe it was deliberate. He just...took what he wanted without...without caring...without even noticing that he hurt me.” She bit her lip hard to stop a sob.
“My poor, poor girl,” said Harry, very quietly, not moving.
Letty turned and moved into his arms. She laid her head against his chest. The gentle, undemanding strength of his embrace comforted her, kept her safe, protected her from harm. He held her, and the tension ebbed away, the memories faded. Her whole reality was his warmth. A sense of vitality held in check, of passion under firm control.
“I love you,” he whispered into her hair. “I want you. You are beautiful, and I cannot pretend I don’t want you in every way. I shall never hurt you. Can you learn to trust me?”
She looked up at him, his shadowed eyes, resolute mouth, face pale in the reflected light. With one finger she touched his cheek, then his lips. “Harry,” she murmured, “I love you.” Her hands crept to the back of his neck, pulled his head down to her.
His kiss set her on fire.
* * * *
White ash, black charcoal, and a few red-glowing coals were all that was left of the bonfire. Charred, half-raw potatoes and sweet floury chestnuts had been consumed with gusto. While tenants and villagers thanked Sir Gideon for the treat, Catriona shepherded the gentry back to the house.
She had provided light refreshments in the drawing room. One or two ladies took a cup of tea, and one or two gentlemen a glass of wine, but most had eaten and drunk their fill by the bonfire. It was time to take weary children home to bed—the twins sat nodding in a corner, for once exhausted by the excitement. The guests were just waiting for their host’s return to the house before taking their leave.
Catriona moved from group to group, chatting with her friends and neighbours, her mind elsewhere. Harry Talgarth and Letty were missing. Harry might be with Sir Gideon, bidding farewell to the local people, but Letty had no reason to do so. More likely, the two were together.
All Catriona could do now was pray she had given the right advice.
Sir Gideon came in. Meeting her gaze across the room, he smiled. She wondered unhappily how cast down he would be if Letty and Harry came to an understanding. Her answering smile must have reflected her thoughts, for he frowned in concern. Then his guests surrounded him, and the vicar’s wife spoke to her, demanding at least part of her attention.
The first carriages had just been sent for when the missing pair entered the drawing room. Letty’s radiant face told her mother everything.
Departing guests fell silent and stopped their movement towards the door as Catriona met Letty in the middle of the room.
“Mama, you were right.”
They hugged each other, tears in green eyes and blue, hearts too full for words. Harry spoke briefly to Sir Gideon,
Hugging her cloak about her, Letty took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “I was only married for a very short time,” she said without looking at the silent figure who stood beside her, not touching her. “Only three weeks, really, before he went away. But then I had the twins, so...so you know that I...that we...”
“I know, of course. I have always known, and that in itself makes no difference.” Harry paused, then went on hesitantly, “You never speak of him, as your mother does of Sir Jeremy. Do you still mourn him so deeply?”
“ No!” The denial exploded from her, followed by the dreadful confession. “When I heard of his death, I felt like a bird set free from a cage.”
“What did he do, that his death came as a release?”
The suppressed violence in his voice reminded her that he had survived in the wild places of the world. She felt almost as if she ought to protect Bart.
“He was...not very kind. I suppose he did not find me attractive. He was out a great deal, and when he did come home, he...he hurt me. Not on purpose. I cannot believe it was deliberate. He just...took what he wanted without...without caring...without even noticing that he hurt me.” She bit her lip hard to stop a sob.
“My poor, poor girl,” said Harry, very quietly, not moving.
Letty turned and moved into his arms. She laid her head against his chest. The gentle, undemanding strength of his embrace comforted her, kept her safe, protected her from harm. He held her, and the tension ebbed away, the memories faded. Her whole reality was his warmth. A sense of vitality held in check, of passion under firm control.
“I love you,” he whispered into her hair. “I want you. You are beautiful, and I cannot pretend I don’t want you in every way. I shall never hurt you. Can you learn to trust me?”
She looked up at him, his shadowed eyes, resolute mouth, face pale in the reflected light. With one finger she touched his cheek, then his lips. “Harry,” she murmured, “I love you.” Her hands crept to the back of his neck, pulled his head down to her.
His kiss set her on fire.
* * * *
White ash, black charcoal, and a few red-glowing coals were all that was left of the bonfire. Charred, half-raw potatoes and sweet floury chestnuts had been consumed with gusto. While tenants and villagers thanked Sir Gideon for the treat, Catriona shepherded the gentry back to the house.
She had provided light refreshments in the drawing room. One or two ladies took a cup of tea, and one or two gentlemen a glass of wine, but most had eaten and drunk their fill by the bonfire. It was time to take weary children home to bed—the twins sat nodding in a corner, for once exhausted by the excitement. The guests were just waiting for their host’s return to the house before taking their leave.
Catriona moved from group to group, chatting with her friends and neighbours, her mind elsewhere. Harry Talgarth and Letty were missing. Harry might be with Sir Gideon, bidding farewell to the local people, but Letty had no reason to do so. More likely, the two were together.
All Catriona could do now was pray she had given the right advice.
Sir Gideon came in. Meeting her gaze across the room, he smiled. She wondered unhappily how cast down he would be if Letty and Harry came to an understanding. Her answering smile must have reflected her thoughts, for he frowned in concern. Then his guests surrounded him, and the vicar’s wife spoke to her, demanding at least part of her attention.
The first carriages had just been sent for when the missing pair entered the drawing room. Letty’s radiant face told her mother everything.
Departing guests fell silent and stopped their movement towards the door as Catriona met Letty in the middle of the room.
“Mama, you were right.”
They hugged each other, tears in green eyes and blue, hearts too full for words. Harry spoke briefly to Sir Gideon,
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