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 hopeful and scared but also renewed.
The sound of the waterfall in the distance teased her and as though compelled by some unknown force, she persisted onward.
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 branch, 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.
And 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, she 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…
Grief crept in anyhow and settled into the pit of his belly. He’d lost his friend multiple times. 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, leaving those behind to suffer from more than innocent grief.
Luke simply needed to breathe.
Rather than rushing over to present himself formerly 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…
She was there.
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 a stab of grief struck without warning.
“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.