23. Where There is Love, There is Hope

WHERE THERE IS LOVE, THERE IS HOPE

T he event of Arthur's very real death was acknowledged with an actual funeral. There was a body to be put into the ground. He would not be coming back this time.

The memorial headstone that had been placed in the Tempest family cemetery last autumn after the false announcement of his death would soon be replaced. It was as though his family had been given a second chance to say their goodbyes.

As a rule, women didn't normally attend funerals; it was considered unseemly and newly widowed ladies were deemed to be too fragile to witness the lowering of their husbands' bodies into the ground.

But Naomi had attended this one. Even seeing the finality of him taking his last breath, she'd needed to see the ceremony of it. She'd watched his casket as it was lowered into the ground.

She'd sent word to Luke but doubted she would hear from him for weeks. Sometimes it could take months to reach loved ones who were deployed. Her worrying was not at an end.

The distance of war, the turmoil of battle, it changed people. She doubted anything could alter the content of Luke's character, but she prepared herself for the possibility that things between them could change. Her seedling of hope had been deprived of water and sunshine and nutrients for months. As had his.

She'd spent nearly three quarters of a year living at Galewick Manor, and although she was grateful for all Arthur's family had done, she wished for some separation. Arthur was gone. She wished to move on with her life.

She would not act in haste, and Lady Tempest had grown quite fond of Amelia. There would always be some connection, as was only right. And yet, Naomi faced some important decisions.

Ironically, three days after Arthur's funeral, she'd received two different letters, both of which presented information that could greatly affect her future.

The first was a letter from her mother. A certain duke had spoken with Naomi's father on her behalf before departing for his wedding holiday and had somehow convinced him that Naomi deserved his forgiveness. She was welcome to return home along with her child, whom all of them were quite impatient to become acquainted with.

She'd read through the letter twice. It was something she'd wanted for months, yet it only offered her a small amount of relief. Perhaps she was numb. From Arthur's death and Luke's absence.

The second one had been sent by the War Office, stating that Mr. Arthur Gilcrest had claimed all wages he'd been due, and since he had not, in fact, been killed in battle, there was no widow's pension for her to claim. It was dated last April.

Naomi had taken the second letter to Lord Tempest, uncertain whether it was her responsibility to inform the War Office that Arthur had finally succumbed.

As somber as ever, Arthur's brother promised he would look into it and then gone on to assure her that she would never be in want of funds or security. Milton Cottage had been willed to her by Arthur, along with an annuity as his widow and a trust for Amelia. Furthermore, she was welcome to remain at Galewick Manor for as long as she'd like. She was family. She would always be welcome.

It was the most he'd ever spoken to her at one time, and she'd left his study thinking that she would visit her parents first, perhaps remain with them through the holidays, and then after, she might return to live on her own at Milton Cottage.

She'd attempted to reject the annuity, but Tempest had insisted. She was his family's responsibility. "You have Amelia to think of," he'd told her.

She wandered the now-familiar corridors deep in thought, and after looking in on Amelia and seeing that she was already down for her afternoon nap, Naomi was drawn outside by the golden light of the autumn sun.

There were some aspects of this estate that she would miss. It had provided her comfort in a tumultuous time.

Naomi slipped outside and strolled aimlessly to the edge of the garden.

Was she really free?

She continued through the copse of trees then over the small bridge onto Blackheart property. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since she'd walked along the rushing brook with Luke at her side, since she'd grasped his arm beneath her hand and felt his strength along her side.

The air felt warm on her face and shoulders. Almost one year had passed since that fateful day he'd come to Milton Cottage. When would she see him again?

She watched the ground and carefully picked her way along the stream, feeling lighter than she had in ages. The future stretched out before her as a blank slate, unknowable and frightening, but whatever it may bring, for now, Naomi felt… hopeful for the most part. Renewed.

A distant rumbling, barely audible, teased at the very edge of her senses. The waterfall, she was getting closer to it, wasn't she…? As though compelled by some unknown force, her feet carried her onward, and the rumbling sound grew steadily until she could barely hear anything else over the familiar roar.

At first, she thought she was imagining the obscure silhouette of a man standing at the edge of the pool. And then she believed that she must be mistaken. But the posture was familiar. She knew the tilt of his head, the breadth of his shoulders.

She stepped on a twig, snapping it in two, and he turned his head.

Luke.

With his feet planted shoulder-distance apart, his hands behind his back, dressed in a black coat, tan breeches, and gleaming hessians, he appeared even more magnificent than he'd been in her dreams.

As his eyes settled upon her and his lips tilted upward in welcome, the beating of her heart grew strong and steady again.

Unable to hold herself back, Naomi lifted her skirts with both hands and sprinted across the distance between them. This time, she would throw herself into his arms.

This time, she had no reason to hide.

Luke had not been on English soil for even forty-eight hours, but rather than spend a single night at Portsmouth, he'd hired a mount and ridden for home.

To Naomi.

He'd done what needed to be done, and he was prepared to reside at Crescent Park for as long as was necessary until he could make her his again.

Because she would be his forever. He'd relinquished his heart long ago.

When he'd walked through the door of the home he'd grown up in, Lydia met him first with tears and welcome but quickly informed him of Gil's passing.

He'd considered the likelihood of Arthur passing before he ever made it home; a part of him had expected it, even. And after having accepted it once already, Luke had thought he'd been prepared.

And yet…

Despite everything, grief crept in and settled into the pit of his belly. He'd lost his friend multiple times, in different ways. Each time he'd lost a little more of his own innocence.

At a time when he hungered more than anything to claim the woman he loved, to make her his wife and embark on a life together, Gil had stood in his way—and Luke had allowed it.

But no more.

His friend had stirred up tragedy with his betrayal, and those who had been left behind were made to suffer from more than innocent grief.

Luke simply needed to breathe.

Rather than rushing over to present himself formally at Galewick Manor, rather than facing Gil's brother and mother to offer his condolences, hoping for a moment alone with Naomi, he'd wandered outside through the playground of his youth. Staring up at the gushing waters of the falls, memories played in his mind, and as he lost himself watching the deluge of water crash over the rocks, the taint of the present washed away. Miraculously, the innocence of the past remained intact.

His chest released and the autumn sunlight penetrated his soul.

He could now give himself permission to embrace a future that would be filled not only with love and hope and joy but also challenges and tears. And in that very moment…

He turned and saw that beloved figure.

She was there, and then she was sprinting towards him.

This time, he met her with open arms.

"He was buried on Tuesday." Her voice broke, giving him some idea as to how hard the past months had been for her. Oh, but she was in his arms again. There was nothing he could do to prevent the tremor of relief that swept through him.

It was over.

Luke recalled the cemetery where two sets of brothers had once played pirates with one another, and his heart ached with the sudden swell of grief.

"My sweet girl." He buried his face in the caressing strands of her golden hair. "My love."

In between tears and kisses pressed onto his chin and lips and neck and then lips again, she chanted his name. Time stood still as each of them absorbed the other, offering comfort for the lost months of loneliness and fear.

When she exhaled a tremulous breath, Luke drew away and stared into her eyes. With a sad smile, he brought his hand up and cradled the side of her face. "Lydia told me."

"She's been wonderful." Unshed tears wavered in her stormy blue gaze, but she blinked them away. "I can't believe you are here."

Later, he would explain to her how the ship had arrived before dawn and that he hadn't been able to keep himself away even another day. For now, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips trembled beneath his as he reacquainted himself with her taste, which mingled with the salt of her tears.

Nothing would come between them again, Luke vowed silently.

She buried her face in his chest, unsteady, and he tightened his arms around her. Their love affair was not a normal one, but it would be everlasting. The two of them had a lifetime to make up for all they had missed.

"When did you arrive?" She sent him a sweet smile, but a shiver ran through her and her hand shook as she reached up to brush some hair away from her face. "I only sent the letter a few days ago."

She was nervous. Not afraid, but not as comfortable with him as she'd been before.

He drew them both away from the banks of the pool to where a grassy patch grew at the base of a large oak. "Let's sit."

Luke made himself comfortable leaning against the trunk, and then bent his knees, feet apart, as she arranged her skirts around herself a few feet away. When she glanced over at him, he shook his head. "Come here. I need to hold you." He indicated the space between his legs.

"I wasn't sure…" She swallowed hard and gave him a tight smile before moving closer. "So much has happened, and last December seems like a lifetime ago. I got a letter from my parents. Since the War Office won't be sending a widow's pension, Tempest insists I have an annuity, and he says Milton Cottage is mine, but I'm not going to keep the house—I doubt I'll have need of it. It could end up costing me more to keep it standing and I'm not even certain it's safe. I can't have that—for Amelia, you know?—"

"Of course," he said, smiling, with his chin resting on her shoulder. He'd missed this, making plans with her and discussing the future together.

"I'm nervous," she admitted, turning her head so that she could look at him. "I wasn't sure," she repeated. Neither of them could have been one hundred percent certain. But they had both loved. They had both promised. And they had both hoped.

In answer, Luke touched his lips to hers softly. "I worried like hell that you would regret marrying me."

"Never," she answered. "I told him. I told Arthur about us on his last day. He confessed that he hadn't signed the certificate. He said he was waiting to secure my dowry. He intended to sign it after speaking with my father. But he?—"

"Ran out of time."

"Yes." She glanced down but then took a deep breath and looked up again. "But I told him you and I married, that you did so in order to protect Amelia… and me."

"And because I loved you," Luke said. He never wanted her to doubt the motivation behind his proposal. Of course, he would have protected her child and her reputation, but he'd meant every word he'd said in that tiny church when he'd married her. "I've been in love with you since before we met. Did you know that?" He nuzzled his lips along her delicate jaw. "Before I'd even finagled an introduction, I overheard you laughing. It was the most joyful, delightful sound I'd ever heard. When I turned and caught sight of you for the first time, I was ruined. Utterly ruined for all other women."

Naomi tilted her head back, allowing his lips to trail kisses down her neck. "I didn't know."

Luke groaned. "Never doubt my love."

"I won't," she promised. Tasting her, holding her, was like coming home. Her hand grazed the material covering his thighs. "You are not wearing your uniform."

Luke inhaled a cleansing breath. "I am no longer Major Lucas Cockfield."

"Simply Lord Lucas, again?"

"To match my Lady Lucas." Luke liked the sound of that.

"What did Blackheart say about it?"

"My brother... simply asked what was needed from him to fix up my estate. He wishes us well." Luke swallowed the emotion that welled at the mention of that conversation. "Said he was proud of me."

"He is a good man."

Luke closed his eyes. "He is."

As much as Luke esteemed his brother, he didn't wish to speak of Blackheart in this moment. Not when he had Naomi in his arms. He'd waited a lifetime to have her.

He slid his hands down her arms, embracing her from behind. "God, Naomi, I missed you." First, they had been friends, then they'd become lovers, and for a brief moment, they had stood in a church together as man and wife.

And then… nothing. He'd gone away and, on his return, had hardly even been allowed to acknowledge her.

He'd been unable to bask in her smile, to talk with her privately, to listen to her laugh. It had been impossible to touch his lips to hers or openly show her affection in any way.

And he hadn't made love to her in nearly ten months.

It was time, and he would reveal the depths of his emotions to her in the best way he knew how—the way he'd ached to. It had been so long for both of them. Too long.

She made a mewling sound, one he remembered from sharing her bed, and burrowed into him. "There is nothing between us now," she murmured.

"Nothing."

But he was surprised when she giggled. "I mean…" She drew one of his hands lower, to her midsection. "No little cantaloupe."

He hadn't even noticed the difference. But now, the joyful ring of her laughter had him chuckling. He had craved her voice, her touch, her smile—he had craved this joy . Awed, he opened his hand and covered her belly. Not at all as he remembered from before. Slightly rounded though, and soft. He palmed his way upward and cradled the weight of her breast. Heavier. Her uniquely feminine flesh filled his hand, giving him all sorts of carnal ideas. "I have the opportunity to learn your body all over again."

As he watched her neck and cheeks flush a pretty pink, blood surged to his groin.

Ten months had passed since he'd made love to her. Ten months of waiting, of worrying.

Of wanting.

The thought of being with her again sent his heart racing. "Are you still nervous?"

"No." And then, "A little."

Luke dropped his legs and lifted her onto his lap sideways. "I believe then, Lady Lucas, that we must reacquaint ourselves with one another."

Staring into his eyes, she nodded. "I am being silly."

"You are being honest." She never need hide anything from him. "Your feelings aren't silly, love. They are yours, your truth. Never apologize for sharing them with me, never."

Naomi gazed back at Luke and was reminded of how, back at Milton Cottage, he'd assured her that she must grieve in her own way. Despite the mistakes she'd made last year, he'd done nothing but provide his support, his protection, and then later, his love.

"I'm not nervous anymore, Luke." She took it upon herself to reassure him this time, reaching her arms up to twine around his neck. All she wanted in that moment was to be as close to him as possible.

Pressing her mouth against his, her first thought was that he tasted of the outdoors. Firm, but then his lips softened and parted, and the familiarity of his taste both comforted and excited her.

Without breaking the kiss, Luke grasped hold of her thigh and shifted her so that she straddled him.

He'd said they needed to reacquaint themselves with one another. He was correct. She loved him with every fiber of her being despite the distance of the past year or the pain of his absence. Perhaps she loved him even more for having suffered it.

But they would come to know one another as only husband and wife are privy to. They would share their thoughts, their emotions. Their bodies. One flesh.

Their hands tangled with one another while she reached to unfasten his falls and he tugged at the material of her dress.

They sighed at the same time, when skin touched skin. She lifted herself and hovered. Luke stroked himself at her opening. She was wet, slick. Ready for him. She relaxed her weight and impaled herself on him.

She heard and felt his moan at the same time she released one of her own.

"Luke." Had he made her feel this whole before? He lifted her slowly and then lowered her again. Her spine turned to jelly as he moved beneath her. And then they were both moving.

"I can't last long," he breathed. "You feel too damn good."

He slowed, staring into her eyes, holding her gaze, hiding nothing of his feelings, pushing up, penetrating her, claiming her.

"I love you." His voice rasped.

"Love you." Naomi could barely hold her head up as sensations and emotions overwhelmed every part of her person. "Love you."

She went to close her eyes, but he stopped her with his voice. "Stay with me."

He pistoned his hips up and her eyes rolled back. Still, she forced herself to fight the heaviness and meet his gaze. "With you." She exhaled, gasping as he stroked inside of her.

Tingling spread from her chest to her arms and even her fingertips as she rode him. When she finally closed her eyes, intoxicated by her surge of release, white stars flooded her vision.

Luke thrust deep, deeper, grasping her hips against his, and then with a guttural sound, surrendered to his own release.

Words were not necessary as they clung to one another, catching their breath, listening to the sounds of their heartbeats returning to normal and the thrumming of the waterfall landing in the pool.

"This was the first time with my husband," Naomi finally murmured, smiling as she rested her cheek against his chest.

"As my wife." Luke's voice rumbled beneath her.

"Lady Lucas." And then she leaned back. "I don't want to wait. We've waited long enough already." But they could not simply tell the world they were married.

Luke's gaze met hers. "You are willing to accept possible ridicule?"

Her parents were finally prepared to acknowledge her again. "If they love me, if they wish to know their grandchildren, they will have to make their own decision. We've already waited too long, Luke."

"You are certain?" Brilliant sapphire eyes studied hers.

"I am."

He slowly stretched his mouth into a grin. "Shall we have the banns read this Sunday, then?"

"Yes." She nodded slowly. "It's time."