Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

K enneth stood facing Beatrice, his heart pounding in his chest as he gazed into her eyes.

The air between them crackled with unspoken emotions, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy in the air.

Then, Beatrice turned to Catherine. "I am sorry about that, Cathy. I did not mean to upset you in your home, especially in your condition?—"

"Nonsense. No harm was done to me, Bea. I am simply glad you are rid of that foul woman. I know she's your mother and all, but she treats you abominably," Catherine said, taking Beatrice's hand into hers.

"Yes. I am glad she's left too," Beatrice admitted, "Are you certain you're all right?"

"Absolutely. Don't you worry about me." Her friend gave her a reassuring smile and then glanced to the direction where Kenneth and Thomas were standing.

Beatrice mirrored her movement, and she caught Kenneth's gaze again.

Thomas, sensing their need for privacy, gently guided Catherine out of the room.

"Come, my love," he murmured, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back. "Let us give them a moment alone."

As the door closed softly behind them, Kenneth and Beatrice remained still, their eyes locked in a silent conversation. The distant sounds of servants moving about the house filtered through the walls, a reminder of the world outside the room.

Beatrice cleared her throat, breaking the spell.

"Perhaps we should find somewhere more private to talk," she suggested, her voice soft but steady.

"Yes," Kenneth nodded, following her lead as she guided him up the stairs and into the library.

The room was bathed in warm sunlight, the scent of leather-bound books and the faint traces of oil paint hanging in the air.

As they entered, Kenneth's gaze fell on a canvas set up near the window, a sketch resting on the easel. Beatrice noticed his curiosity and smiled, moving to stand beside him.

"Catherine wanted to see my work," she explained, lightly trailing her fingers over the rough texture of the canvas. "I was just beginning to show her when…" she trailed off, the events of the morning still fresh in her mind.

"Beatrice, I need to explain?—"

"Kenneth, about what happened?—"

They stopped, looking at each other.

"Please, you go ahead," Kenneth urged.

Beatrice took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she looked up at him. "There's something I need to tell you, Kenneth. About Lord Eastfold and… and my paintings."

Kenneth's jaw tightened, but before he could speak, she held up a hand, her eyes pleading.

"Please, let me finish. I need to get this out."

He nodded, his posture stiff but attentive.

Beatrice wrung her hands, her voice quavering. "I tried to confront Eastfold, to end his blackmail. But he… he refused. He demanded even more paintings with impossible deadlines." Her voice broke. "I've been painting non-stop, and I hate it, Kenneth. I hate what it's become."

Kenneth started to interrupt, his face darkening with anger, but Beatrice pressed on.

"Please, let me finish," she begged, tears welling up in her eyes. "I need you to understand. My art… it used to be my solace, my home. But now it feels tainted, corrupted. Eastfold sees it as nothing but a commodity to be sold to the highest bidder." She wrapped her arms around herself, looking small and vulnerable. "I feel so alone, Kenneth. So trapped."

Kenneth's expression softened, his anger melting into concern. He stepped forward, gently taking her hands in his.

"Oh, Beatrice," he murmured. "I had no idea. I'm so sorry you've been going through this alone." He took a deep breath, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on her palms. "But you don't have to worry about Eastfold anymore. I've taken care of him."

Beatrice's eyes widened, a flicker of concern crossing her face. "What do you mean?"

Kenneth smiled reassuringly. "I confronted him, made it clear that his blackmail and threats would no longer be tolerated. I told him that if he ever dared to contact you again, to try to coerce or manipulate you, he would deeply regret it."

He paused, his gaze intense with love and conviction. "He won't bother you again, Beatrice. You're free to paint as you wish… or not paint at all if that's what you want."

Beatrice stared at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"You did that for me?" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Kenneth nodded, pulling her closer. "I would do anything for you, Beatrice. Anything to protect you and ensure your happiness and safety."

She tentatively raised her hand to his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"And about Lady Featherwell," he continued, his voice low and earnest. "I need you to know that I turned her down. I would never, ever betray you like that."

Beatrice felt a rush of relief, a knot of tension unraveling in her stomach. "I believe you. I do. I just… when I heard her proposition, heard the way she spoke about me… it hurt. It made me doubt myself, doubt us."

Kenneth wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. "Never doubt us, Beatrice. You're the only woman I want—the only one I'll ever want."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You're the only man I want, too. Even when you're being an insufferably stubborn, exasperatingly jealous brute."

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I know I can be… difficult. Stubborn. Infuriatingly so, at times. But it's only because I love you so much, because I'm so terrified of losing you."

Beatrice started to protest, but he continued.

"Your stubbornness, your fire… it's part of why I fell in love with you. You challenge me, you push me, you make me want to be a better man. For you, for us, for our future."

She smiled, a watery laugh escaping her lips. "I do enjoy provoking you, but only because I know, deep down, that you're the best man I've ever known. The only man I'll ever love."

Kenneth's heart swelled, a wave of emotion crashing over him. "I love you, Beatrice. More than words can say. And I promise, from this day forward, to trust you and to believe in us, whatever challenges may come."

Beatrice nodded, her own vow falling from her lips. "And I promise to always be honest with you and to never let doubt or fear come between us again."

They sealed their promises with a kiss.

Beatrice reached out, dipping her fingertip into the paint that lay beside the canvas. With a steady hand, she drew an arrow on her chest, pointing directly to her heart.

"This is where you are, Kenneth," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "In my heart. Always."

Kenneth buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, the warmth of her body against his a balm to his battered soul.

"You're forever captured in my heart, Beatrice. I won't ever drive you away again," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I promise to cherish and protect what we have."

Beatrice pulled back slightly, her eyes shining with love and forgiveness. "And I promise to stand by your side, loving you fiercely, no matter what challenges we face."

He nodded, his forehead resting against hers.

"Together," he echoed, the word a vow, a promise of a future filled with love and understanding.

Then, with a tenderness that stole her breath, he lowered his head and captured her lips with his own. The kiss was soft, reverent, a sealing of the bond between them.

He pulled back slightly, his hand cupping her cheek as he gazed into her eyes. "I love you, Beatrice. More than words can say."

She smiled, her hand coming up to cover his. "And I love you, Kenneth. With every beat of my heart."

As they stood there, lost in each other's eyes, in the steady hum of love and possibility that flowed between them, Kenneth felt something he had once thought impossible. He felt whole, complete, and utterly at peace.

This was where he belonged. And everything—every moment of pain and heartache, every misunderstanding and every tear—had been worth it, just to bring him to this moment. To bring him home to the woman who held his heart and soul in the palm of her hand.

He leaned down, capturing her lips with his once more, pouring every ounce of his love, his devotion, into the kiss.