Chapter 10

Roland slumped into a padded armchair in the mercifully and recently emptied taproom. It was late afternoon, and he’d been on the run all day. He was filthy and exhausted, and his admiration for his wife had multiplied by a thousand.

Through eyes cloudy with weariness, he observed the room. To his surprise, he realized that it was decorated for the season with holly and mistletoe and other greenery. He’d been too busy and too distracted by the guests’ demands to notice before.

A few guests remained, but the vast majority had moved on, eager to spend at least some of Christmas Day with their families. To everyone’s relief, the weather had fined up. The sky even showed patches of blue before the early twilight. The bridge would remain out for weeks, even months, but most of the travelers had plans to take longer routes to avoid the flooding.

Janet had emerged before breakfast, showing few signs of her emotional collapse. She had, however, been notably less frosty with him, which left him with mixed feelings. She’d done an unspeakable wrong, keeping him from his wife. But he’d hated seeing her proud spirit humbled. Worse, he’d hated to witness Charmian’s distress at her aunt’s emotional disintegration.

“What a Christmas it’s been,” Charmian said from the doorway.

He looked up with a tired smile and held out his hand. “I got the only present I wanted.”

The love in her eyes as she darted across the oak floor to curl up in his lap banished his exhaustion. His heart soared with happiness, as he enfolded her against him. A salty hint of female sweat tinged the clean lemon scent of her soap. Even after her exertions, she still smelled like paradise to him. He loved the earthy reality of having his wife in his arms after a long day.

When the chair creaked under their weight, Charmian gave a husky giggle. “I hope we don’t end up on the floor.”

“As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where I am. Even flat on my arse.”

“Ah, you sweet-tongued devil,” she said with the affectionate mockery that he’d once believed he’d never hear again.

“Speaking of sweet tongues…”

The kiss was long and passionate and, yes, sweet. It spoke of love given and received. Love that had proven its strength. Love that would only deepen in the years to come.

He buried his face in the silky mass of her hair and said a silent prayer of gratitude that she was with him at last. At this rate, he might even stop hating Yorkshire.

“I do beg your pardon.” Janet was turning away and shutting the door, when Charmian pulled away from Roland’s kisses and called after her.

“No, Aunt. Wait.”

Roland saw Janet’s shoulders stiffen, but she was a brave woman, if one who had been tragically mistaken. She closed the door before she faced them. The rigidity of her stance hinted that she expected Charmian to berate her once again for keeping her from Roland.

Charmian scrambled off his knee, leaving him free to stand as politeness demanded. “Please, Miss Barton, sit down.”

Janet Barton was an attractive woman who bore a marked resemblance to her lovely niece, especially when they were both blushing as they were now.

Janet linked her hands at her waist the way that Charmian did when she fretted. He found it harder and harder to maintain his anger. This woman had set out to do him ruinous harm, but she hadn’t succeeded. He suspected that her conscience would provide adequate punishment without him reviling her. Nor could he forget her utter devastation this morning.

Janet remained standing. “I wanted to thank you both for helping today. I don’t know how we’d have managed without you. Especially when…”

Charmian made a dismissive gesture. “I wasn’t going to leave you flat. We’re still family, whatever else has happened.”

The generous response eased the tightness around Janet’s eyes and mouth. “That’s…that’s more than I deserve.” She directed a glance at Roland. “Sir Roland, I’m far too aware that I misjudged you. I apologise.”

He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

An awkward silence descended, before Janet crossed to sit on the settle near the inglenook. “You said this morning that you’re going back to Northamptonshire as soon as you can. Are you moving on tonight?”

Charmian took Roland’s hand. She didn’t have to say anything. He already knew what she wanted.

“It’s late and we’re both tired,” he said. “If you’ll permit us to stay, I’d be very grateful.”

Janet almost managed a smile. “I’d be delighted if you’d stay. I kept back a few choice morsels with the hope of having a small celebration of the season, now that the crisis is over. Milly can look after our remaining guests. John’s gone home to his family. It would be just us. Or you can eat in a private parlor, if you’d prefer your own company.”

Charmian’s expression said that she found the answer in his face. He wanted to start as he meant to go on. That wasn’t with setting up barriers between Charmian and her family.

She turned to Janet. “That sounds lovely, Aunt. It would be nice to do something to mark Christmas Day. We’d love to have dinner with you. Then we’ll leave tomorrow morning bright and early.”

The last of Janet’s wary stiffness drained away. The gaze she leveled on them was misty. She stood and brushed down her dark blue skirts with trembling hands. “I’m so glad. Thank you. I’ll go and get things sorted out in the kitchen.”

“I’ll help,” Charmian said, but her aunt shook her head with something approaching fond indulgence.

“No, I can manage, and you’ve both been my drudges for long enough today. You deserve some time to yourselves.”

They did. Roland was desperate to hold his wife close and bask in the fact that they were together again. “Thank you, Miss Barton.”

“Please call me Aunt Janet. As Charmian said, we’re family.”

He wasn’t completely convinced of his welcome, even now, but for the sake of future harmony, he said, “Aunt Janet.”

And was rewarded with an approving smile from his wife.

“It’s nearly five now,” Janet said. “Shall we say eight for our dinner?”

“It’s going to take me that long to wash the day’s dirt away,” Charmian said, which brought a smile to her aunt’s face. An almost natural smile.

“I asked John to bring your things down to the front chamber on the first floor. Your bedroom in the attics isn’t big enough for two.”

Charmian’s blush had ebbed as the discussion proceeded. Now it blossomed into pink again, which made Roland want to kiss her.

But then, he always wanted to kiss her.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” he said.

“It’s the least I can do. I’ll see you both in the south parlor in a couple of hours.”

As she left, Janet looked happier than she had when she arrived. Roland found his wife regarding him as if he’d set the stars alight in the night sky. “What?”

“I love you, Roland Destry.”

He frowned in puzzlement. While he appreciated her feelings, she spoke the words with a particular emphasis that left him confused. “And I love you.”

She smiled. “Even if I hadn’t loved you before, I’d love you now.”

“Because I was nice to your aunt?”

“Yes. When anyone even a fraction less generous would have ripped into her for what she’d done to us.”

He sighed and ran his hand though his hair. “She feels bad enough already. Anyway, I don’t want to cause a rift between you and your family, whatever they might have done. We have the children to think of after all.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Children, is it?”

Roland caught her in his arms for a ravenous kiss. He felt like he hadn’t kissed her for a month. After a faint huff of surprise, she joined in with commendable enthusiasm.

He raised his head and stared down at this woman he adored. “It’s time we got to work on the next generation.”

Her delicious gurgle of amusement reminded him of the peach of a girl he’d married. Although that girl, beguiling as she was, couldn’t compare with the array of complex delights she presented now.

“Do you indeed? Oof!”

He’d swung her high into his arms and marched toward the door. For a few topsy-turvy seconds, he juggled her as he opened the door. “I do. Especially if the front chamber on the first floor has a full-size bed.”

“It does.” Charmian twined one hand around his neck.

He smiled down at her with all the happiness filling his heart. This was going to be the best Christmas ever. He couldn’t help remembering his grim predictions for the day when he’d ridden into Puddlebrook. How wrong he’d been. “Then what are we waiting for?”

As he carried his wife across the empty foyer and up the wooden staircase, he could swear he heard angels singing alleluias. Or perhaps that was just what happened when a man was madly in love with the woman he’d married.

Love and joy had returned to Roland’s life, along with the wife he worshipped. He was blessed indeed.