by Tamara Leigh
"I think that's his name," Oliver said, never having met Joslyn's brother.
What did it mean? Liam . . . her father . . . and Richard? Her heart beating faster, she lifted her skirts. "Come, Oliver," she said, and ran down the knoll.
Liam was the first to reach her. Swinging down from the saddle, he took her into his arms and held her tight.
As it was the first they had seen of each other since Liam had left Ashlingford following Oliver's recovery, they clung together for as long as the others permitted. Which was not long enough.
"You gonna get married?" Oliver asked, looking up at them with wide, hopeful eyes.
His question jarred Joslyn, but Liam exhibited not the least bit of discomfort. Sliding his hand into
Joslyn's, he knelt before the little boy. "You would like that?" he asked.
"Oh, aye!" Oliver breathed.
"Then we will have to do something about it, won't we?" Liam said. He ruffled Oliver's hair, then straightened and met Joslyn's imploring gaze. "I have come for you, Joslyn," he said.
Though she heard her father and brother rein in behind her, she simply could not look away from Liam. "Truly?" she whispered.
Liam smiled. "We are going to be married."
She had known he would find a way—that was what had sustained her these many weeks—but hearing it spoken was like a dream. Beautiful but unbelievable. "How?" she asked.
He brushed his mouth across hers. "I will tell you later. Now you must greet your father and your brother."
Hours later, as they lay entwined in Liam's bed, Joslyn asked again.
"Twas with Queen Philippa's help," Liam said.
Joslyn was surprised. "The queen?"
"Aye, months ere the plague struck, I sent a missive to her asking for assistance in obtaining a dispensation from the pope."
Joslyn had not realized his feelings for her went that far back. It thrilled and touched her. "You have loved me a long time, haven't you, Liam?"
He trailed a finger down her arm. "Not long enough," he said.
A shiver of excitement shot through her. "And the pope agreed?"
"Aye, he has issued us a special dispensation that we might wed."
"But how? Are we not still brother and sister in the eyes of the church?" Though what Emma had revealed proved them to be further removed—cousins by marriage—Liam had insisted that the truth remain buried with the old woman.
Propping himself up on an elbow, Liam looked down at her. "Nay, the pope has decreed otherwise. For a price, of course."
Liam had paid for the privilege of marrying her, then. "Is it a high price?" Joslyn asked.
He smiled. "Not for what I shall have in return. But it shall take some time to pay it."
"How long?"
He thought on it a moment. "Most likely ten or more years."
"Ten years?" Joslyn exclaimed.
Liam nodded. "Aye, 'tis an abbey the pope wants and an abbey I shall build him—at Belle Glen."
Though Joslyn could not even begin to imagine how much it would cost to build such an edifice, for certain Liam had paid dearly to wed her. "When did you receive the dispensation?" she asked.
"A sennight past."
She would not have expected him to keep the plan secret for so long. "A sennight!" she cried. "And you did not come then?"
"I would have," he said, stroking her loose hair, "but I had first to bring your father here. I thought you would wish him present when we spoke our vows."
"I... I am pleased you did," she said.
Liam returned his gaze to hers. "Ours is going to be a real marriage, Joslyn. Forever."
Forever. "I love you, Liam," she said.
He lowered his head. "And I you, Joslyn. I will love you for always." ,
