Chapter Fourteen

H er house, a warm, sandy color, wasn't too large or imposing. It had clean windows and a cheery front door with a large chimney on one side that was likely the kitchen. Coming up to it from the road, it looked like it belonged exactly where it was.

It was home.

For the first time since her father had passed, she felt as if she truly belonged somewhere. This wasn't the old, lonely house that had once held all her father's books. This wasn't a cold, large manor that had sucked away her spirit.

This place felt like she had held a key to an unknown lock for a long time, not knowing that finding this house would click inside of her, opening the doors to so many wonderful emotions.

She wanted to run around the house. She wanted to race up and down the garden. She wanted to peek up the chimney. She wanted to throw all the doors open just because she could.

Lysander grinned at her. "You have a glint in your eye and I think I like it."

Her horse wasn't going fast enough. They trotted up the lane, past swishing tall grasses, past wildflowers that scented the air, past a stone wall with a little wooden gate, and up to her home.

As she slid off her horse, not bothering to wait for Lysander or care where her skirts were, a thin woman with her hair in a bun and wiping her hands on an apron emerged from the front door. "Can I help you?"

Elizabeth smiled and stepped forward. "Hello! I am Miss Elizabeth Innsworth. I wish I could have written to alert you of my arrival but circumstances wouldn't allow it."

The woman dropped her apron, her face lengthening in surprise. "Miss Innsworth?"

Lysander stepped forward and took her reins. Elizabeth introduced him as well. "And, erm, this is Mr. Lysander Blackwell."

The impropriety of having arrived at her new home unmarried and accompanied only by a roguish looking man brought a blush up her cheeks. She wanted to say something else, something that would put the housekeeper at ease.

She cleared her throat and retrieved her papers from her satchel. "I understand you to be Mrs. Harrol and that you are married. I assume Mr. Harrol is about somewhere?"

Mrs. Harrol nodded just as a man in dirt-smudged clothing rounded the corner of the house. He eyed first Lysander and then Elizabeth.

Mrs. Harrol said, "Why don't we all come inside?"

The interior was clean and beautiful, in a lived-in and comforting way. The scent of fresh bread wafted from the kitchen but Mrs. Harrol brought them into a small parlor. On the way in, Mrs. Harrol said, "I wanted you to come here right away but your solicitor wrote to say everything had already been handled."

All that time, all those letters begging friends for help, the unanswered letters to her solicitor, and someone else had been trying to reach back. Elizabeth sat in a small parlor chair, Lysander dragging another one over next to hers.

All those dark feelings of hopelessness and loneliness could have been solved so easily if just one piece of information had made it through to her. Because of Lysander, everything she had hoped to find was right here.

She sniffled and knew she couldn't keep her tears at bay any longer. Mrs. Harrol sniffled, too, and walked to the door. "I'll just give you a moment."

Lysander pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and folding her into his chest. He stroked her hair and said, "We made it. I am here for you."

She spoke the worry that had been niggling in her mind their entire ride. "What if he comes after me? He will eventually figure out I am here."

"I will write to my solicitor and have everything straightened out. He's a ruined man now that you have taken back your estate. Besides that, I won't let Dawson near you ever, ever again."

She pulled back and wiped at her cheek. "Your solicitor?"

He nodded. "My family's solicitor. My uncle is the Earl of Hawkton."

If his uncle was an earl, then why was he a criminal? A highwayman? Surely someone with connections like that wouldn't have to travel the countryside stealing from others.

She pulled away from him to look up at his face. His dark features watched her with a tender expression that pulled at her heart. She said, "You are not a highwayman."

He shook his head. "No. I told you I wanted revenge and I got it." He leaned down, his lips drawing closer to hers. "Out of all of this, I think you are the criminal here."

She smacked his shoulder and pulled back to sit in her chair. "Excuse me?"

He smiled at her, a slow change that tugged the corners of his lips up while his eyes smoldered at her. "After all, you stole my heart and there is no possible way for me to have it back."

A tight feeling overtook her chest as his words slipped over her, running up her body like pulling up a warm blanket. He reached for her hand, twining his fingers between hers.

"Lysander?"

"I think I have loved you from the moment your fierce, dark eyes flashed at me from the depths of the carriage."

She squeezed his hand. "What? I was too terrified then."

He grinned at her, sliding his other hand up her leg. "You were terrified, but when I stole that ring off Mrs. Dawson's finger, your eyes sparkled. On the outside, Elizabeth, you are the beautiful, prim lady. But on the inside…" He traced his hand farther up her leg and she sucked in a deep breath, heat building low in her belly. His eyes met hers as if her trembling reaction made his point. "On the inside, you are the fire that lights my night. I love you."

It didn't matter who he was. All that mattered was that, when it came down to it, she had chosen him and she would choose him again and again and again. She couldn't imagine her life without him now that they were together. She traced her fingers up his arm and leaned forward again, sliding her hands into his hair. "I love you, too, my highwayman."

The End