by Wolf, Bree
A deep sigh left his lips as he willed his hold on her to lessen.
“We need to find a way to let go of the past,” Nessa whispered, brushing the pad of her thumb over the corner of his mouth. “I want to be happy again and not look over my shoulder for the rest of my life, afraid of what might happen. I don’t want that.”
Grant swallowed. “You’re right,” he whispered as his gaze swept over her face. “But when I look at you, I cannot help but think of all those days without you, knowing I’d never see you again.” Again, his hand reached out to touch her face almost reverently.
Blinking back the tears that lingered, Nessa swallowed the same fear, willing it to retreat and leave her be. “Is that all you can think of when you look at me?” she teased. “I admit if that is all I inspire it is not very flattering.”
The corners of his mouth curved upward. “Perhaps not all.”
“Perhaps?” she dared him, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. “When I look at you, I think of all the wonderful years we’ve shared. I think of our daughter…and our son.” A small hitch hung on her voice as a single tear rolled down her cheeks.
Grant brushed it away as a familiar gentleness came to his eyes. “His loss brought us pain, but I don’t even want to imagine a world in which he had never been.”
As sadness claimed her, Nessa pressed her lips into a tight line, then nodded. “I feel the same,” she whispered. “It is the same with us, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Grant agreed as he pulled her into his arms, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. “Why do you think you suddenly remembered? After all this time together, getting to know each other again, getting closer.” Brushing a hand over her back, he took a step backwards, his gaze seeking hers. “You even told me you loved me, but you did not remember until today. Why?”
“I do not know,” Nessa whispered as she tried to remember the moment her old life had returned to her. “I didn’t even notice right away. I…” Closing her eyes, she shook her head, a smile on her face. “I don’t think we’ll ever truly know, but…”
“But?” he urged, looking into her eyes.
Nessa sighed, remembering how they’d raced their horses across the land, feeling the wind pull on her hair and the soft wetness of raindrops falling onto her skin. “I felt at peace,” she finally said as her eyes locked on his once more. “I felt free in that moment, unburdened from all the doubt and fears I never seemed to be able to shake before. Something always remained.” Reaching out, she placed her hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat against her palms. “I loved you before today, but I think it was only today that I felt safe enough to entrust my heart to you yet again.” She smiled at the devotion that shone in his eyes. “Perhaps that is why I remembered; because there was nothing holding me back any longer.”
Joy danced on Grant’s face as he looked down at her and, in that moment, Nessa knew that all would be well. After all, despite what had happened—or perhaps even because of it—it seemed that they were meant to be together. Against all the odds, they’d found each other…twice. Perhaps they ought not consider themselves cursed for losing one another, but blessed instead for their love had proved strong enough to overcome all the obstacles that had been put in front of them.
It was an encouraging thought. One Nessa would cling to for all the days to come.
Many, many days.
Epilogue
Two months later
A golden ray of sunshine cast the small tombstone into a warm light.
“All is well again,” Nessa told her son as she gently trailed her fingers over the weathered stone. Tears stood in her eyes as she remembered his small face, his eyes closed as though sleeping, so peaceful and precious. She remembered carrying him under her heart, remembered his kicks and pokes. She remembered the joy and then the heartbreak the day he had been born.
It still echoed in her heart. And yet, she’d rather remember the pain than forget the joy…as short-lived as it had been.
“Your sister is a wild one,” she told Oliver, smiling at the thought of her little girl. “If she could, she’d live in her tree house so attached has she become to her own little fortress. She tore another dress, climbing farther up the branches only yesterday. You should have seen her face. She was angry, and yet, contrite.” Gazing past the small cluster of trees growing near the cemetery, Nessa spotted her wayward daughter running down the small slope, her father close on her heels. A chuckle escaped Nessa at the sight of them, and her heart filled with warmth. “Perhaps I should allow her to wear breeches. It’s not at all ladylike, but it would make her happy.” She sighed. “And I do love to see her happy.”
“Mamma!” Milly called as she raced onward, her hazel eyes fixed on Nessa as her little chest rose and fell with each panting breath.
Close behind her little girl, Nessa spotted her husband and she was barely able to suppress a laugh at seeing the grin on his face. He put on a good show of trying to catch up with his daughter, then cursed and stomped the ground when she triumphed, reaching the small entrance of the cemetery before him.
“I won!” Milly celebrated, dancing in a small circle. “Mamma, did you see that? I won!”
“I did,” Nessa assured her, pulling Milly into her arms. “Congratulations! But don’t wear your father out too much. I still need him.” Smiling at her husband, Nessa delighted in the wicked grin that came to his lips.
Looking up at her, Milly frowned. “For what?”
Cringing, Grant’s gaze dropped to the ground. A deep smile lingered on his face. Nessa laughed, then brushed a hand over her daughter’s head. “No matter what your father might be thinking,” she told Milly, “I need him because he is my other half and my heart would be lonely without him.”
A soft smile came to her little girl’s face. “Then I need him, too,” she stated resolutely before turning to grin at her father. “If you need to rest, come and sit.” After pointing to a particularly soft patch of grass, Milly danced onward until she reached her brother’s tombstone. “Olli, I won! I bested Papa!”
Smiling at his daughter, Grant walked toward his family, his chest still rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. “She’s incredible,” he whispered as he pulled Nessa into his arms and planted a soft kiss on her lips.
Nessa nodded. “She is.” Standing arm in arm, they watched their little girl as she gave her brother a detailed account of how she had outrun their father. Her little cheeks glowed with delight and her eyes shone with mischief.
“We’ll have our hands full with this one,” Grant grumbled; his eyes, however, shone with pride.
“We will?” Nessa asked, chuckling. “Don’t we already?”
Hugging her close, Grant laughed. “I suppose that’s true.”
Sighing, Nessa looked up at him, her eyes lingering on the thin frown lines still creasing his face. “Are you all right?” she whispered, casting a careful glance at Milly, ensuring that she was still absorbed in her conversation with her brother.
Grant followed her gaze, then nodded. “In truth, I cannot say that I’m surprised,” he replied, understanding exactly what she was asking. “My mother only ever thought of herself. I know that now, and it no longer pains me.” Still, the look in his eyes spoke of regret; how could it not?
“Do you wish you could have spoken to her again?” Nessa asked, remembering the day Mr. Thatcher had brought news of the dowager countess’ death. Apparently, she had taken her own life after being turned away by a number of relatives she had appealed to for help. However, after learning of her plots against Nessa, all had turned her away, laying their own accusations at her feet.
No doubt, it had been humiliating—to say the least—for her mother-in-law to turn to relatives she’d only ever despised and tried to triumph over. But what could she have done? With no means to support herself, she had been desperate. And yet, no word of apology had ever crossed her lips. To the very end, she had thought her means justified and herself mis
understood and mistreated, blaming Nessa for all her misfortunes.
In that light, it had come as no surprise that she had left a letter, accusing Nessa of stealing her family and forcing her into an early grave.
“What good would it have done?” Grant asked, shrugging. “You know as well as I do that she would not have seen reason, and at least now we know that she is no longer a threat to us.” He swallowed the lump in his throat as he reached out to cup Nessa’s face. “It pained me to think that she might be planning something else to take you from me. Now, at least, she cannot come between us ever again.”
Smiling at her husband, Nessa sighed. “I’m grateful for that as well, but please do not think that you do not have the right to mourn her. She was your mother after all.”
“I mourn the mother I could have had,” he told her, “if only…”
Nessa nodded. “If only.”
Glancing at her daughter, Nessa knew how precious family was and that she would be forever grateful to be blessed with the people in her life. They gave her the strength to disregard her mother-in-law’s malicious last words and not allow them to burden her heart. “We have each other,” she told her husband, smiling up at him. “For all the days to come.”
Returning her smile, he nodded before the look in his eyes sobered, filling with deep emotions that made Nessa ache. “I need you as well,” he whispered, pulling her deeper into his embrace, “and I don’t ever want to be lonely.”
“Neither do I,” Nessa assured him before she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a deep kiss.
“Yugh!” Milly commented. “Olli, don’t look now. They’re kissing again.”
Laughing at the sight of their daughter’s scrunched-up face, Nessa and Grant drew apart. Still, the look in his eyes promised there would be more kissing later.
Nessa could hardly wait.
Life was good again.
Finally.
About Bree
USA Today bestselling author Bree Wolf has always been a language enthusiast (though not a grammarian!) and is rarely found without a book in her hand or her fingers glued to a keyboard. Trying to find her way, she has taught English as a second language, traveled abroad and worked at a translation agency as well as a law firm in Ireland. She also spent loooong years obtaining a BA in English and Education and an MA in Specialized Translation while wishing she could simply be a writer. Although there is nothing simple about being a writer, her dreams have finally come true.
“A big thanks to my fairy godmother!”
Currently, Bree has found her new home in the historical romance genre, writing Regency novels and novellas. Enjoying the mix of fact and fiction, she occasionally feels like a puppet master, forcing her characters into ever-new situations that will put their strengths, their beliefs, their love to the test, hoping that in the end they will triumph and get the happily-ever-after we are all looking for.
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