“Yes, you do,” Grace called after her in a tone that conveyed that was the most obvious course of action for Mercy. “You never should have let him leave.”
For once, Mercy agreed wholeheartedly with her sister.
She should not have let him leave.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mercy rode like the devil himself was chasing her.
Fortunately, Silas did not have too far of a lead on her.
The broad back of him atop his mount soon appeared ahead of her on the road.
Relief expanded within her chest. She waved her hand wildly above her head in the air as though he could see her. “Silas! Silas!”
He whipped around quickly on his mount, a slightly panicked expression on his face. “Mercy?”
She soon closed the gap between them.
She dismounted and he followed suit, jumping down from his horse. She fought for her breath. It was almost as though she had been the one racing hell-bent after him and not her mare.
“Mercy, is anything amiss? What is wrong?”
She shook her head violently. “Nothing is wrong.” She winced. “Well. That is not quite true. You are leaving.” And that was wrong. That was the most wrong thing in the world to ever befall her.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “We knew that.”
She stared at him in anguish. “What you did for me . . . It is not right.” She shook her head fiercely. “It is not right that you gave up so much. I don’t deserve—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say that. Of course you deserve your freedom. No woman deserves being married to that man or any man not of their choosing. You deserve a better brother. You deserve choices in your life, Mercy. You deserve . . . everything. Anything you want.”
So he would have done such a thing for any woman? Or was she special? Was she special to him?
A sob rose up in her throat. “It’s not right. It’s not fair. I cannot let you—”
He seized her by the shoulders then, and his big hands on her were practically her undoing. Those hands made her feel. They made her feel everything and remember everything that had ever passed between them. “You did not let me do anything. I did it. I chose to do it.” His gaze roamed her face. “And I would do it again.” He paused a beat. “I would do anything for you.”
Tension swelled between them.
Neither spoke for some moments.
She moistened her lips. “You are too good to me . . .”
“No.” He dropped his hands away from her as though she suddenly burned him and took a step back. “I don’t want your bloody gratitude.”
What do you want then?
She came after him, her body a taut bow, straining toward him in longing, in need. She seized his hands in her own, hating that he had severed the contact. “What is it you do want, Silas?”
He looked down at their joined hands and took a deep breath, lifting that broad chest of his.
“I will tell you what I want,” she volunteered.
“What is that?”
“You,” she whispered, almost afraid to hear herself say the words that would render her irrevocably vulnerable. “I want you. However you will have me.”
She knew what that meant. She knew what she was saying. She was offering him . . . herself. All of her.
If he wanted her. As a mistress. As a friend. As an occasional liaison.
She would take this good, honorable, beautiful man in whatever way he would have her. In whatever capacity, and she would be happy. She would be delighted and not suffer a moment of regret.
His hands tightened around hers then, squeezing, clinging to her as though she might vanish from him. “Do you know what you are saying?”
“I do.” She nodded. “I love you.”
He stared at her for a long moment before a wide, thrilling smile curved his lips. He snatched her up into his arms with a whoop and swung her around in a circle that sent her heart racing in her chest.
She giggled. “Perhaps I should have told you this sooner.”
“Perhaps you should have.” He set her back down on the ground to look into her eyes, his hands coming up to cup her face tenderly. “Or perhaps I should have told you sooner. I am so bloody in love with you, Mercy Kittinger, and I have been ever since I chased after you. I accept your offer. I will have you.” He dropped to his knees before her, reclaiming both of her hands in his and pressing a kiss to each of her palms. “Marry me, Mercy. That is how I wish to have you. As my wife. Please say you will have me as your husband.”
A sob thickened her throat as she replied, “Yes. Yes, yes, and forever yes.”
Mercy flung her arms around him and pressed her mouth to his, kissing him until she could not feel her lips anymore and then she was certain that she could quite happily keep on kissing him, however much and for however long she wanted. Forever if she wanted to. Because she could. Because they belonged to each other.
For the rest of their lives.
Epilogue
Six months later . . .
Pounding footsteps in the foyer accompanied Grace’s enthusiastic shouts, alerting Mercy and Silas that their privacy had come to an end.
“Mercy! Silas!”
Silas groaned and lifted his face from Mercy’s neck where he had been nibbling quite deliciously upon her skin. “She has the worst timing.” He removed his hand out from beneath her skirts where his fingers had just begun quite the interesting foray up her thigh.
“She will be gone in a week and then you will miss her terribly.” Mercy playfully poked her husband in the shoulder and then climbed off his lap where she had been sitting so comfortably.
Mercy would miss her sister, too, but finishing school was only for a year. A year was not so terribly long in the grand scheme of life. She told herself that for solace, and yet she knew that it was likely Grace would not ever return to Shropshire unless it was for visits. She was a bird flying free from the nest, ready to explore the world and go wherever the winds took her. Her sister was on her way, and as happy as Mercy was for her, she would miss having her with them.
“I know you’re right. I will miss the little scamp whilst she is away, but presently I would enjoy some alone time with my wife.”
Mercy leaned down and pressed a kiss to his mouth. “We will have plenty of that soon enough.”
Grace burst in the room, waving a letter in her hand. “It’s from Bede!”
“Oh.” Mercy took the correspondence from her sister and seized a letter opener from Silas’s desk, slashing it open.
Grace danced anxiously around her as she read it. “What does he say?”
Silas grunted, clearly uninterested in news of her brother, and returned his attention to his work. With the exception of the gaming hell, he still managed his several properties in London, and now he helped Mercy manage the farm. They had hired more staff and were expanding, growing more crops, building more outbuildings. They had even begun discussing renovating and adding another wing to the main house—a project Mercy was delighted to embark upon. Of course, there was the trip abroad, a belated honeymoon of sorts, they were planning for themselves in the spring.
Life was good. Good, indeed. In fact, she had never imagined it could be this good.