The bath felt delightful, if a little awkward. Bonnie was stiff and sore from being immobile for so long, but the hot water was a delightful balm. Her sisters kept up a running commentary, making her chuckle, right up until the moment she brought up Lyon.
“Have ye brought me any new gowns to wear?”
Vanessa frowned. “Aye, but what does it matter? Ye’ll just be getting back into bed, will ye no’?”
Bonnie knew she ought to do just that and allow her body to rest. But she felt as if she’d been resting forever and knew she needed other things more.
“I need to find Lyon.”
Ember was patting her arms and shoulders dry but froze at her words. “Why?” she asked, her voice a little strangled.
“Because I need him. I need to talk to him.”
“About what?” Vanessa asked sharply.
Bonnie turned to face them both, taking the towel from Ember’s limp fingers and patting at her tender scalp. “I need to talk to him about the future.”
“Yer future? Or his future?”
Frowning at Ember, Bonnie shrugged. “Our future. My goals—my dreams—burned along with my hair. But he kens how I feel about him, and I need to ken how he feels about me. I need to ken that before I can start thinking of any new goals and dreams.”
Vanessa nodded thoughtfully. “Ye mean yer publishing house?”
“Vanessa!” hissed Ember, sending their sister a Significant Look. “Ye ken ye’re no’ supposed to…”
Bonnie sighed. “I’m tired of everyone walking on eggshells around me. I want—nay, I need—to see Lyon.”
Lumbering to her feet once more, Vanessa smiled triumphantly as she held her arms open for a hug. “I think that is a wonderful idea.”
“But—” Ember began.
“And if Lyon isnae ready for her to see her surprise, he should’ve 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, Vanessa 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. “Nay. No’ yet. Let him—let them all—see the new me.”
Vanessa pressed a kiss to her cheek. “He’ll love ye, Bonnie. Dinnae worry. We all love ye.”
* * *
“Nay, more to yer right. Yer right! Yer other right,” Phineas huffed in exasperation. “More right.”
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. “Phineas, 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 Roland hooted with laughter from where he was organizing the ink.
“He’s no’ wrong,” Roland called.
Phin sniffed. “That’ll do, gentleman. 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 and binders 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,” Roland called out, “and soon.”
When the three of them glanced at him, Roland 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’ll see to Vanessa. Looks as if everyone else is giving ye privacy too.”
As he led Bonnie carefully down the steps, he saw that, indeed, his brothers and the workers had stayed clustered around the presses. Good. Good. He blew out a breath as they reached the main floor and turned her in his arms.
“Are ye well? Do ye want to sit down, Bonnie?”
She clung to him, and he knew from experience how taxed she must be. “I will soon, but I needed to speak to ye.”
“Aye, anything, love.” He led her to a window seat and sank down beside her. “What do ye need?”
“Ye.” He didn’t think it was unintentional, from the way she smiled. “I just need ye.”
“Ye have me,” he whispered gruffly, pulling her into his arms and tucking her head under his chin, careful not to jar her. “Does it hurt verra much?”
“My head?” Her question was a bit muffled, until she shifted as she brushed her fingers across her scalp. “Nay, no’ anymore. I’m glad to be free of the laudanum though.”
“Aye, I ken that feeling. The pain will go away eventually, and ye’ll gain full range of motion as well. But the fog the laudanum causes is sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse.”
She was quiet for a long moment, before she pushed away, sitting upright, her hand still against the side of her head. He studied her, worriedly.
“Do I look as bad as all that?”
“Nay, of course no’, Bonnie lass.”
Her smile was a bit sad. “I’m no’ though, am I? I’m not a bonnie lass anymore.”
She looked strange without hair, true, and the scabbing covered part of her forehead and one ear, although the damage was all external, thank God. Soon, she’d have scars, and those scars would be as distinctive, interesting, and perfect as her.
Smiling gently, Lyon inclined his head and brushed a kiss across her lips. She whimpered slightly and leaned closer, so he did it again and a third time, fighting the urge to crush her to him, knowing he couldn’t hurt her further.
Sighing softly, he straightened, but held her gaze. “Love, ye’ll always be my bonnie lass.”
Her expression slowly changed from dazed to surprised to awed. “Always, Lyon?” she whispered.
He realized what he’d confessed, and his lips twitched. “I love ye, Bonnie. I’ve wanted to tell ye so many times in the last month, but I wanted the moment to be perfect.”
Tears instantly filled her eyes, and when she blinked, one dropped down her cheek. “Is this the perfect moment then?”
Smiling now, he reached up and gently wiped away the tear with the pad of his thumb, treating her like porcelain. “Perhaps the moment willnae ever be perfect, love. Perhaps we just have to accept the life, the moments,
we’re handed, and make them perfect. I love ye, my bonnie lass, and I want to make yer dreams come true.”
Another tear spilled, and he caught this one as well.
“My dreams?” she whispered.
Time to tell her what he’d done. “I ken ye dream of publishing yer book and of publishing other books of that ilk, and I want to support ye.”
“Grimm and Sons burned.” Her voice caught on a sob. “Ye told me yerself, Lyon. It wasnae salvageable.”
“Nay, it wasnae, but the presses and the building were insured, and that meant we were able to…”
He gestured to the rest of the great hall where the men still worked. She blinked, confused, her lips tugging into a frown as she tried to understand. “Ye…bought new presses?”
He stood, then gently tugged her to her feet. “Love, I bought and modified new presses and had them shipped here. We’re all set up to start a new publishing house, right here in Oliphant Castle. Ye can make all the management decisions, so long as ye allow me the chance to fiddle with the mechanics from time to time.”
Her smile seemed wobbly as she reached up to brush her fingers against the hank of hair which had fallen over his ear. He’d been letting it grow back out.
“Ye…started a new publishing house, Lyon?”
“I started yer publishing house, love. It isnae mine, but yers, and ye can do what ye wish with it. Just…let me be a partner perhaps?”
“A business partner?” she murmured, her fingers now trailing down his ruined cheek, causing him to shiver.
“Nay, lass,” he said gruffly, pulling her to him. “A life partner. Marry me, Bonnie. Please?”
The noise which emerged from her lips was half-laugh, half-sob. The tears were back, but so was a smile. “Because ye love me, Lyon?”
“Because ye brought me back to life. With ye in my life, I feel whole, and losing ye—pushing ye away—nearly broke me. I swallowed my pride and went after ye, only to have ye break me down again, showing me my own soul. And then, when ye told me ye loved me, in spite of my beastly behavior…” He shook his head, pressing the gentlest of kisses to the wounds on the top of her head. “When ye went into that fire, I kenned I loved ye and couldnae live without ye.”
“Ye’re no’ a beast.”
“I ken—”
She interrupted him. “Nay, Lyon. I mean it. I’ll no’ allow anyone to call my husband the Beast of the Oliphants, no’ when I’m as scarred and hideous as he is.”
“Och, Bonnie, ye’re no’ hideous— Wait, ye think me hideous?” It was only then that he recognized her teasing smile, and his ears caught up with his brain. “Husband?” he whispered. “So ye’ll marry me?”
She placed her palms against his cheeks and smiled up at him. “Lyon, I love ye verra much. I’m nae longer a beauty, but ye’re nae longer a beast. I would love to set off on a new adventure with ye.”
“Marriage?”
“Aye, that, but also publishing.”
And Lyon Prince, ex-Beast of the Oliphants, felt an unfamiliar urge building in his chest. His lips parted, and a huff escaped them. Then a chuckle. Then, as Bonnie’s jaw dropped, a full-blown laugh burst from his chest.
It felt…cathartic—the pull of his scars as his shoulders heaved, his heart soaring as she threw her arms around him and began to laugh along with him.
He knew his brothers must be staring, but he didn’t care. He had the woman he loved in his arms—healthy and perfect—and the promise of a wonderful future together. How could he not be joyful?
She pulled him down for a kiss, and he obliged her, careful to keep his hands from her neck or head. It was hard not to crush her to him, but he knew the time would come soon enough, when she was healed fully, and their wedding vows had been spoken.
For now, he contented himself with the taste of love on her lips, and her perfect scent. He was certain he’d never get enough of kissing her.
His Bonnie lass.
After a long moment, he loosened his hold on her, and she pulled away just far enough to smile dazedly up at him. He took a deep breath.
“I love ye, Bonnie.”
“And I love ye. Thank ye for making all my dreams come true.”
Epilogue
Lyon was absolutely certain it was the longest three months of his life.
But he’d survived the wait, and today was his wedding day.
It was also the day after Easter, which meant spring was coming to the Highlands, and he couldn’t help but feel renewed by this season of promise and joy and rebirth. Soon, the world around them would burst into color and song, new life would be everywhere, and the metaphors abounded.
He might’ve appreciated it more without the raging cockstand.
It had been over four months since Bonnie Oliphant had insinuated herself into his life, squeezing into his solitude and forcing it wide open. Since she’d returned—wounded—to Oliphant Castle, this old keep had been overrun with servants, workers, and well-wishers, all creating chaos in Lyon’s carefully ordered life.
And he couldn’t be happier.
Because the servants were there to help care for Bonnie, and the workers were there to ensure the publishing house was successful, and the well-wishers…well, he couldn’t deny he liked his family well enough, even if his brothers could be arses.
“I’m really quite proud of ye, big brother,” his sister Raina was saying as she brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his collar. “I always knew falling in love would drag ye, kicking and screaming, into the light.”
Lyon shrugged off her touch and folded his arms, not caring if he wrinkled his jacket and waistcoat. “I loved Rose,” he grunted, even knowing the protest was false. Aye, he’d loved his first wife, but the connection he had with Bonnie was far and away the most magnificent thing he’d ever experienced in his life.
But that was only because he hadn’t made love to her yet. He’d spent every night of the last three months holding her as she slept, but soon, he’d be under the blankets with her, holding her naked body to his…and he was sure this level of self-denial wasn’t healthy. His sexual frustration was affecting his decision-making, for God’s sake!
“Try to smile, Lyon,” Raina whispered fondly. “Ye look as if ye swallowed vinegar.”
“I always look that way. It’s the scars.”
Chuckling, his sister lifted herself up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss on his cheek. His scarred cheek. “But ye cannae look that way today, because ye’re marrying the woman ye love. Who, by the way, looks magnificent.”
His gaze jerked to hers. “Ye’ve seen her? Is she feeling well? She’s no’ overwhelmed?”
“Yer bride is strong, Lyon, and fully recovered. She’ll no’ even limp down the aisle to ye, I vow. But…” Raina’s hazel eyes sparkled as she teased, “I suspect she’s as desperate for the wedding night as ye are. I’ve never kenned two people to deny themselves for so long!”
“She was wounded,” he grumbled, as he rolled his shoulders, then dropped his arms. “I didnae want to risk her healing.”
No matter how difficult it had been to keep from consummating their love.
Clearing his throat, he adjusted the sporran which rested against his kilt, preventing the tenting from being too obvious. “Besides, I dinnae need to take pointers on making love from my wee sister, eh?”
“Why? I have some good ones,” Raina quipped with a wink.
Lyon groaned. “Where is that son of yers? He’s off running wild, is he no’? Ye cannae control him.”
His sister thrust a finger at his nose, suddenly irritated. “Ewan’s a good lad, just curious. I dinnae need to hear ye going on about controlling him or finding him a father. I get enough of that from Da.”
Contrite, Lyon wrapped his hand around her finger and brought it to his lips, brushing a kiss across the tip. Raina’s expression softened.
“I’m sorry, Princess. Ewan is a good lad, and he doesnae need a father. But ye need—ye deserve—happiness.”
“When did ye get so romantic?”
His lips twitched. “I’m allowed to be romantic on the day I marry the woman I love. When are ye going to do the same?”
“Marry the woman I love? Is that even legal?”
Snorting, he shook his head, surprised to find himself close to laughter. He’d been close to laughter often these last months and figured that boded well for his future with Bonnie. “I meant when are ye going to get serious about finding love instead of avoiding all of Da’s efforts?”
“I tried love once,” she replied flippantly, turning away from him and studying the bustle of the great hall. “I didnae like the way it felt.”
“Ye didnae like that the rotter ran off in the middle of the night when he discovered ye were pregnant.”
“That too.” Her tone was light, but her eyes were serious, and Lyon didn’t like the look on her. She shrugged. “There’s a house party in York this summer, hosted by one of my former teachers. When Da received the invitation, he told me I was going.”
Lyon winced. “Is it a matchmaking scheme?”
Finally, Raina chuckled, her shoulders relaxing as she drew out the word, “Aye.” Her soft smile settled back on her lips. “But poor Miss Twittingham—or rather, Lady Fingfamwhatever—doesnae realize how hopeless it is. I’ve been in touch with my friends, of course. Those of us who are still unmarried are wonderfully, completely unsuitable. Well, except for Angeline; she’s an idiot, but a beautiful one, and that counts when it comes to men.” She shrugged. “But I still think it’s a hopeless cause to try to find us husbands.”
“So ye’re going to go?” Lyon asked, surprised, and Raina shrugged again.
“Da says I have to, and Phin will act as chaperone so I dinnae get into more trouble than I ought. Besides, I’m looking forward to seeing my friends again.”
“Than ye ought?” Lyon snorted, nudging his younger sister. “Ye’re already planning mischief, are ye no’?”
Raina pressed her palm theatrically to her chest. “Me? Mischief?” Her eyes were sparkling. “I have to say, big brother, I like this new teasing side of ye.”
The Lass Who Loved a Beast Page 13
