Twenty-five

Kelson Hall’s terrace

Close to midnight that same night

Layton quietly slipped onto the terrace and glanced about. A mantle of crystalline frost covered the stones and grounds, turning the estate into a sparkling fairyland.

He quirked his mouth into a self-deprecating smile.

Since when did he, the toughened war veteran and hard-hearted cynic, wax poetic?

Since he had found true love.

“I am over here.”

Lilly’s sweet voice drifted to him from farther down the verandah.

She stepped from the shadows, and he quickened his pace to meet her.

Stopping before her, he swept his gaze over her upturned face.

Such a beloved face.

“Hello, again.”

A reluctant smile arched her mouth. “Hello.”

At some point during the chaos of the rest of the Guy Fawkes Night celebrations, he had whispered in her ear for her to meet him on the terrace once everyone was abed.

In truth, Layton had not been positive she would sneak outside for a clandestine rendezvous, for she had become distinctly cooler toward him after their initial meeting.

Not that he could fault her trepidation.

After all, she had a reputation to preserve.

Had she not shown up, he would have understood and found another time to speak with her alone.

He was impatient to declare himself, to assure her of his love and devotion.

Their breath formed miniature vapor clouds in the frigid air, yet with the inferno blazing inside him, Layton did not feel the chill.

Love did that to a chap.

Turned warriors into sentimental wretches.

Aye, and it was worth the suffering for the love of a woman like Lilly.

He cradled her cold cheek in the palm of his hand.

She should not remain out here in this frigid night air for long, but at least she need not worry he intended to seduce her.

“I missed you, Lilly.”

Those four paltry words did not begin to express his powerful emotions.

Bending his neck, Layton touched her forehead with his and inhaled her wildflower scent.

This overwhelming tenderness he felt for her might well emasculate him, but he did not care. “I am sorry I did not say goodbye. Circumstances prevented me from doing so, but I know I hurt you.”

Surrounded by the silent night, she stepped backward, searching his face in the dim light.

“Why did you come back, Layton?”

A steely thread laced her soft question.

That was Lilly.

All pragmatic and sensible.

And she’d had time to erect a defense to protect herself against further pain.

A bold declaration about a future together might not be the best approach at this moment.

Instead, he sought to reassure her.

He cupped her shoulders, peering into her wary eyes.

“First, you must know. I am not married, Lilly. I was, several years ago, but she died.”

She did not need to know those unpleasant details right now. Of course, Layton would tell her.

There would be no secrets between them. Ever.

The darkness made it impossible to see for certain, but he thought relief may have swept across her beloved face.

Still, she remained silent, staring at him with those enormous eyes.

Layton understood her silent question.

That he was not married did not explain his return to Kelston Hall, nor why he had asked her to meet him tonight. Was it possible that his strong, spirited, independent Lilly was afraid to ask what was in her heart?

“While in London, I learned my abductors had been caught and imprisoned.” He had already sent word for the men he hired to watch Kelston Hall to take their leave. “There is no need to worry about them any longer.”

No need to talk to Wrottesley either.

Layton had learned of the lascivious rapscallion’s reputation and did not want the sheriff anywhere near Lilly.

“That is a relief. I had worried…” As if Lilly revealed too much, she cast a forlorn glance toward the silvery meadows, then shrugged as she shook her head. “’Tis of no matter.”

It mattered.

She regarded him warily again. “You could have written and told me those things, Layton.”

“I could have, yes, but I wanted to tell you in person.” He smiled at her tenderly, so reserved and guarded. “I have created a trust for Kelston Hall and made you the trustee.”

Layton would start there and see where the conversation led.

That surprised her, and she tilted her head like an inquisitive little wren. “Why would you do that, and where did the funds come from?”

Her reticence was not unexpected, and he had prepared a defense.

“I used the inheritance from my father. He was not an honorable man, and from a very early age, I determined I would only ever use the money for a benevolent cause and never for my benefit.”

The years of anger Layton had harbored toward his father dissolved when he signed the trust documents. Finally, free of the encumbrance of resentment, he looked forward to the good Lilly would do with the money.

The wind had increased, teasing the loose strands of hair around her face and whipping the hems of his greatcoat and her cloak.

The chill in the air quickly stripped the night of its magical qualities.

“That is magnanimous of you, but I wish you had spoken to me first.” She brushed a flaxen hair from her face. “Especially with the ongoing issue with Lord Merrivale.”

Layton shifted so that his body partially blocked the wind from reaching her.

“Merrivale is no longer a problem. In fact, he left the country on a ship bound for Morocco, and I do not know if or when he will return.”

“Why do I think you had something to do with that?” Shivering, she crossed her arms.

Layton could conceal nothing from her, nor did he have any desire to.

“You are right. My brother, Fletcher, owns a gaming club in London. He discovered that Merrivale owed a substantial debt in Morocco. The viscount borrowed funds from nefarious sources in England to temporarily pacify the debt holder, but the moneylenders became impatient when he did not promptly repay the loans. Merrivale had no idea the viscountcy was in such dire straits, and out of desperation, he thought he would contest his aunt’s will.”

Lilly made a sound in her throat—perhaps, an inaudible protest against the penetrating cold or her disdainful opinion of the viscount.

“You should know, Lilly, Matilda Davenport’s will is undisputable,” Layton assured her. While in London, he hired multiple solicitors to research the issue. “It would have held up in court.”

“I thought as much, but that does not mean the battle would not have been intense and expensive.” She lowered her chin, huddling into her cloak. “The cost could have bankrupted Charles and me. How would I have taken care of the children then?”

“Thankfully, that is no longer a worry.” Layton pulled the collar of his coat higher.

The wind and frigid air seemed intent on creeping into every opening.

Lilly pressed her pretty lips together in disapproval. “I do not have much sympathy for a man who incurs gambling debts, especially when he threatens the wellbeing of the children I care for. Still, what has that to do with you or the viscount’s departure from England?”

“It was not a gambling debt.” Layton raised her chin with his forefinger. “For years, Merrivale has been trying to buy the freedom of a European woman captured by corsairs and enslaved in Morocco who he had fallen in love with.”

Gasping, she jerked her head up. “That’s utterly barbaric. That poor woman.”

Layton’s estimation of the viscount had risen considerably upon learning that distasteful detail. It seemed Aldric Davenport was not the snob Layton believed him to be.

“I agree wholeheartedly.” Layton gave a terse nod.

He had firsthand knowledge of just how barbaric and common such practices were.

“Her Arabic owner finally agreed to let Merrivale buy her when the viscount learned his father had died. Merrivale made a down payment, with the agreement he would pay the debt in full when he returned from England after settling his father’s estate.”

“And when he started sorting through the previous viscount’s affairs, he realized there was no money.” Sympathy tempered Lilly’s words now. “What an awful situation. I can imagine he was completely overwrought. I presume you gave him the funds he needed to free her fully?”

“I did.” He gave a terse nod. “Only after I made him sign a contract guaranteeing he would never attempt to dispute Matilda Davenport’s will again.”

An appreciative smile bent her mouth upward.

“It seems I have much to thank you for, Layton. Not only do I no longer have to fret about Lord Merrivale, but you have generously provided additional security for the children’s home.” She touched his arm. “I am grateful.”

He edged nearer.

“It is not your gratitude I want, Lilly.”

Emotion rendered his voice gravelly.

“I want you.”

Her stunned silence gave him hope, or mayhap, sheer desperation made him plow onward, seizing the opportunity.

“I love you. I want to marry you and have little ones together.” He cupped her satiny cheeks between his palms. “I want to help you with the children’s home because until I met you, I was only half alive.”

“I am freezing, Layton.”

Now it was his turn to be stunned.

That assuredly was not the response he had anticipated or hoped for at all.

Although he had expected her to argue about one or two points, at least—she would not be Lilly if she didn’t—he had prayed she would throw herself into his arms and declare her love for him too.

She did love him, didn’t she?

She must.

Layton’s joy plummeted to his frozen toes and perished.

“Let’s go inside, shall we?” She slipped her icy hand into his.

What is this ?

A kernel of hope flickered to life.

As Lilly led him toward the drawing room’s terrace doors, she slid him a siren’s smile. “I am certain we can find a clever way to warm ourselves.”

The kernel sparked and became a low-burning flame.

Did his prim and proper headmistress imply what Layton thought she did?

Please, God. Let it be so .

Once inside, Lilly slipped her hand from his and removed her cloak, draping it across a nearby armchair.

His breath hitched.

God help him.

She wore that incredible red gown she had bought in the village with him that day. The one that enhanced every one of her luscious curves.

Desire, scorching and untamed, tunneled through Layton’s veins, putting the crackling fire in the hearth to shame.

Wait.

A fire?

Lilly only allowed fires in occupied rooms and even then, only small blazes. Barely enough to keep the chill at bay.

He veered a glance toward the door.

As if she had read his mind, she gave him a naughty smile.

“I locked it before coming outside to meet you, Layton.”

Had Lilly expected to come in here with him, the little vixen?

“Lilibet Granger?”

He stalked nearer to her, delighted when her eyes rounded, and she licked her lower lip.

“Have you been playing hard-to-get, minx? Did you hope to make me grovel, for I shall? Without hesitation or reserve.”

Layton dropped to his knees, then clasped her icy hands.

“Tell me that I have not misplaced my hope, Lilly.”

He pressed his mouth to her knuckles.

“You silly man.” Emotion made her voice husky. “Of course, you have not. I love you too.”

With a whoop, Layton sprang to his feet and swooped her into his arms, capturing her mouth with his. He kissed her with the passion and intensity of a dying man who had been given another chance at life.

For that is exactly what she had done.

Lilly had healed his wounded soul.

Layton lifted his head.

Lips parted, her breath coming in soft little pants, she raised her thick eyelashes. Passion had darkened her eyes to almost black. “I am still cold.”

The tease.

“I think it is time I taught the headmistress a lesson or two.” Layton carried her to the settee and gently laid her down before kneeling beside her.

“Something tells me, you are a fast learner, Lilly.”

Her seductive smile quickened his pulse into a full-on stampede.

“True.” Her smile turned coy. “But especially so if I have an excellent teacher.”

Nuzzling her silky neck, he worked the buttons of her gown. “You will marry me?”

If she said no, Layton would have to stop.

It might kill him, but he would, and then dive into the brook to cool his ardor.

“Of course, I shall marry you, dear heart.” She made a cute little face. “But I want all the children, Charles, and the staff present at our wedding. Your family too, of course.”

She pressed a kiss to his chin and then his cheek and then his eyepatch.

Tears formed in his good eye.

Lilly had never shied away from Layton’s disfigurement.

“I would not have it any other way.” He finished slipping the buttons loose of their moorings and the gown fell open, revealing the tempting mounds beneath her simple cotton chemise.

“This is like a dream,” she murmured huskily. “Am I awake?”

“Indeed, my love.” Layton brushed a kiss across her swollen mouth. “You are my dream come true.”

“And you are mine.” She looped her arms around his neck. “Shall we begin?”

Throwing his head back, Layton laughed, at last free from the ghosts of his past.