He huffed, but finally turned and headed for the door to his rooms. “I’ll wait on the other side of the door until she arrives. If you fall, call, and I’ll come running.”
She smiled.
With his hand on the doorknob, he halted and looked back. “Wait for me. We’ll go up to the nursery together.”
He was all earl now. Still smiling, she tipped her head in acquiescence.
As the door closed behind him, she arched her brows and murmured, “I suspect that, from now on, we’ll be doing a lot of things together.”
She was looking forward to forging their new, improved, love-based marriage with a full and eager heart.
Half an hour later, her hand in Devlin’s, she walked into the nursery. From the petulant not to say grumpy looks on the children’s faces, they remained unsettled, but the instant they spied her, their expressions transformed into ones of joy, and they pelted across the room toward her.
“Mama!”
“You’re awake!”
Beaming herself, she slipped her fingers from Devlin’s, crouched, and opened her arms.
“Careful,” Devlin warned, and Spencer and Rupert, almost upon her, slowed enough not to cannon into her.
The pair flung themselves into her arms; carefully avoiding her bandaged head, they hugged her hard and clung. Then they paused and, with Therese, waited for Horry, squealing and toddling as fast as she could, to join them.
The curly-haired tot threw herself at Therese, and Therese laughed and closed her arms, gently squeezing all three small bodies to her.
Spencer and Rupert pressed kisses to her cheeks.
Not to be outdone, Horry planted a smacking kiss on Therese’s lips.
She smiled at each of them. “Yes. I’m here.”
Devlin’s hand rested supportively on her shoulder. She looked up and met his eyes and saw love, unshielded, blazing there.
The response, instinctive and powerful, that welled and flowed through her, shining in her eyes and glowing in her features, spread in all its golden glory about them.
This was their new reality. This joy, this shared commitment, was the foundation on which they would build their future—one strengthened by, informed by, guided and protected by the greatest power in heaven and on earth.
Therese hugged the children to her, smiled into Devlin’s eyes, and mouthed the words “I love you.”
His face lit, and his features softened. “And I love you.”
It really was that simple. That profound.
They’d found their way through the maze of the games they’d played with each other and, even more, with themselves. They’d won through to emerge stronger, more confident, more secure. Now, they could and would go forward and, hand in hand, create the future both craved—loving and being loved in a marriage openly, visibly, and in every way that mattered anchored in love.
By the time her birthday rolled around nine days later, Therese felt thoroughly vindicated in her belief in their new direction.
Two days after the crash, their household had traveled by coach to Alverton Priory so she could recover from her injury in the peace and quiet of the countryside. Now, after a week of recuperation and rejuvenation, as arm in arm, she and Devlin strolled the Priory lawns, watching the children—closely attended by Gillian, Patty, and Dennis, all striving to ensure that none of the three enterprising youngsters ended in the lake—Therese was ready to acknowledge that one could, indeed, be so happy, so filled with happiness, that one’s heart felt as if it might literally burst.
At that moment, she couldn’t imagine her life being in any way more perfect.
Over the past week, she and Devlin had steadily rescripted their lives, more definitely intertwining the individual strands to create a framework for their shared life that was significantly more solid and defined. She rode out with him after breakfast most mornings; as with all Cynsters, she loved to ride, but had never liked to ride alone, so the habit had withered over the years since their marriage. Now, alongside Devlin, she roamed far and wide, making the most of the prime horse-riding country surrounding the Priory.
While with each of them having different responsibilities both within and beyond their household, their days were still largely spent apart, their evenings had become cherished times. Especially in this season, they were most often free to dine in private and spend their evening hours together, talking of various happenings, discussing business and politics, and sharing the events, be they large or small, serious or silly, that filled their days.
And when night fell, they retired to the bedroom they now openly shared. There, the little enameled dragon stood guard by their bed, in which they came together, sharing all they felt for each other, further exploring all they had claimed, all they now so avidly embraced, with an ardor more intense than ever before, wrapped in a closeness that reached to and bound their souls as they reveled in an intimacy that grew ever more profound.
Perfect. Simply perfect.
Smiling with quiet joy, she tipped her face up to the weak sunshine. Just as he’d vowed, in everything he did, the man walking by her side showed her his love. That emotion now permeated every act, every word; it shone through—unscreened, unrestrained, unfettered.
She thought of that morning—her birthday morning—and how he’d chosen to wake her.
Her smile deepened. Definitely unfettered.
Devlin was about to ask Therese what had occasioned the particular smile that was curving her lips when hoofbeats coming up the gravel drive drew his attention.
A second later, Child rode into view, mounted on a glossy chestnut.
Therese had seen him, too. “He must be visiting his parents.”
Both Devlin and Therese glanced at the children, then reassured that all was well with their brood, they redirected their steps to where Child had drawn rein in the forecourt.
Child dismounted, hitched his reins to the tail of one of the carved fish that graced the fountain in the forecourt, and came to meet them.
Devlin halted with Therese at the edge of the lawn.
A charming smile on his face, Child strode up, halted before Therese, and swept her an elegantly elaborate bow. “Happy birthday, dear Therese.” He straightened and grinned. “I came to offer my felicitations. How’s your head?”
“Entirely recovered, thank you.” Therese smiled at Child with sunny assurance. “I understand I have you to thank for sending Devlin hotfoot after me.”
Along with the rest of England, Child had learned of the train wreck on the Great Northern Line on the morning after the crash. Unlike the rest of England, he’d known Therese had intended to be on the train and that Devlin hadn’t returned after trying to catch her and his family at the station. By midmorning, Child had been knocking on the door of Alverton House, to be told by Portland—who, Devlin had later been informed, had taken pity on Child’s obvious distress—that Therese had been wounded but was recovering, and the children and Devlin himself were unharmed.
Child had called again later in the afternoon, and Devlin had descended from the nursery to reassure his old friend that Therese was, indeed, recovering, but that she was in no condition to meet anyone at that time. Child had been openly relieved and, in his usual glib manner, had waved away Devlin’s heartfelt thanks for the warning Child had remained behind to deliver after Therese had quit the house.