Page 42

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

“ W e should talk elsewhere,” Teresa said curtly, turning. “I do not want anyone watching from the windows.”

She walked off with the obvious assumption that he would follow.

He did, maintaining a courteous distance as they headed around the front of the manor, and down the side, passing through a whitewashed gate set into dense boxwood hedges.

Beyond was a quaint garden, made square by the hedges on three sides and the manor behind.

A fountain with a reflection pool took pride of place in the small area of garden, and it was to the low wall around the pool that Teresa walked.

She sat down, her body angled away from Cyrus, gazing down into the silvery surface. “Why have you come, Cyrus?”

He approached cautiously. “I came to tell you that I made a grave mistake. I am not expecting you to forgive me, though my heart is foolishly hopeful, but I cannot leave these grounds until you know how I feel.”

“You feel nothing,” she shot back, a bite in her voice. “You made that perfectly clear in your own gardens.”

His heart twinged at the memory. “I know what I said, my love. I know how much I hurt you, but?—”

“You realized you need a legacy? You realized the importance of an heir? You realized that your business associates are none-too-fond of a gentleman who has an absent wife?” Teresa interrupted sharply, refusing to raise her gaze to him, staring down into the pool instead.

Her posture was stiff with barely concealed anger, her hand shaking a little as she trailed her fingertips through the water, disturbing its stillness. As if she did not like what it was reflecting back at her.

“I expect you have come here to beg me to return, because you have figured out that separate lives is not as useful as you thought,” she added, her voice cracking.

“Tess, I?—”

“Do not call me that,” she snapped. “Do not call me “my love” or any endearment, because it is false, and I do not like what is false. You do not have to pretend anymore, Cyrus. I know I am not good enough for you, I know that the ‘transformation’ in you was just an act, so you can cease now.”

“What?” he croaked, shaking his head.

How could she think she was not good enough for him? He understood why she might think that his husbandly behavior had been an act, but for her to say she was not good enough—it beggared belief.

She was becoming so confident, emerging from her shell, and I have sent her back into it. That broke his heart all over again, and though he wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her and tell her of his heart, he stayed back. She was not ready to be held by him again; he could see that.

Just then, an idea came to him.

“Do you remember when Captain Frostheart had been taken prisoner by the Pirate Queen?” he asked, smothering the smile that tried to curve his lips.

Her head whipped around, her beautiful eyes narrowing into a scowl. “Pardon?”

“Miss Savage came to rescue him with the crew; they stole onto the Pirate Queen’s secret island in the dead of night, sneaking into the queen’s celebrations,” he continued.

“They did not know what the festivities were for, until they saw the Captain seated on a throne beside the Pirate Queen. And heard her declare that, on tomorrow’s evening tide, she would be married to the Captain. ”

Teresa’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open.

“Determined, Miss Savage sought out her beloved when he stepped outside for a moment,” Cyrus said, remembering the chapter well.

“She begged him to come away with her, to flee at that very moment.

But the Captain standing before her was not the Captain she adored.

He was cold and he was dismissive and he was cruel, telling her that he never loved her, telling her to leave before he summoned the guards to imprison her, telling her that he had finally found a bride worthy of him.

“What she did not know was that there were already guards, hidden among the trees, listening to every word. Guards who would have killed Miss Savage if she did not leave—if the Captain did not give her a reason to leave, and never look back.”

“How do you…?” Teresa whispered, searching his face as if he was the one who had been replaced by another version of himself.

Cyrus mustered a small smile. “They left the island alive—Miss Savage and the crew—but her heart was broken. He had shattered it in order to save her, not realizing that life without him was as good as death to her. It was the same for him, as he was seized by the guards and marched back inside to the queen.”

“He told the queen to fashion a noose, because he would sooner hang than not be wed to the woman he loved,” Teresa murmured.

Cyrus nodded. “He was ready to sacrifice everything to save Miss Savage’s life, until he realized that there would be no life at all for him, if he was not at his beloved’s side.

The Pirate Queen was confused, and so the Captain told the story of his love, from the moment he first met Miss Savage, to that very last moment, when he had watched her row away in a boat, knowing he would never see her again, and that she would never think fondly of his name again.

He asked the Pirate Queen again to kill him, because that was the only fate he wanted, if he could not be with Miss Savage. ”

“And a tear spilled down the Pirate Queen’s cheek,” Teresa said quietly. “She gave him a boat and gold, and told him she would kill him if he did not race after his beloved right that moment.”

“So, he rowed with all his might, and he made it back to his ship before it sailed without him,” Cyrus continued the tale, “but that was not the hardest part. Miss Savage would not speak to him, hated him for the things he had said, for she did not understand the reason behind it. She demanded to be left at the next port they reached, her heart still broken.”

A faint smile quirked one corner of Teresa’s lips.

“When they reached the port, the Captain got off the ship with her. He followed her around every day, slept outside the door of her lodgings each night, until she could not bear it anymore.” She expelled a sigh.

“She agreed to listen to his story, and realized that he had never lost his love for her, that he had been trying to save her.”

“They embrace, and he is forgiven,” Cyrus said, holding out his hand to her.

Teresa eyed the proffered hand with suspicion, shaking her head as if to cast away the story he had told. “I do not understand.”

“I am the Captain, my love. I was cruel because I was afraid of losing you,” he replied.

“I realize the idiotic irony in that, but… when you fell from the crag, and I thought you were dead, I… allowed old ghosts to whisper in my ear. I thought history was repeating, or would repeat, because I believed the men in my family to be cursed. I thought I would lose the one good thing I have ever had, like my father did before me.”

Teresa blinked up at him. “But… you are so… so sensible!” she gasped. “Why on earth would you believe in curses?”

“It is hard to explain,” he replied. “My curse was that I did not believe I was deserving of something good, because I was always punished for being happy. I would have my smiles slapped from my face, my laughter squeezed from my throat. If I admired a flower or enjoyed a book, I was beaten for it. I suppose I thought you would be taken away as punishment and panicked when you fell that day.”

Teresa hastily brushed something off her cheek, her throat bobbing as she returned her gaze to the pool, staring down at her reflection. “I kept trying to figure out why you changed so suddenly.” Her voice cracked. “I… should have thought harder.”

“You are not to blame for any of this,” he insisted.

“ I am entirely at fault, and I will accept any punishment you wish to give for my foolishness and the unkind things I said. But, know this—I love you, Tess. I love you so much that I, too, believe that there would be no life at all if you are not at my side. I will live alone, a hermit like before, if you cannot forgive me, but I will always love you. Even if it must be from afar.”

Teresa’s gaze slowly lifted, tears shining in her eyes. “You… love me?”

“I love you,” he confirmed, smiling. “I love you more than the Captain has ever loved Miss Savage. His love for her is paltry compared to the love I bear for you. So please, my love, may I have my wife back?”

Teresa rose to her feet, her legs somewhat shaky, prompting him to reach out and take her hand, steadying her.

“Indeed, I am the one who is not good enough for you,” he added. “Yet, I hope to one day be worthy. I hope to spend the rest of my life proving to you that you did not make a mistake on the day you stepped into the church to marry me.”

A choked sound escaped Teresa’s throat as she stumbled forward a pace, grasping him by the lapels as if she might embrace him or throttle him. Her grip tightened, her beautiful eyes searching his face for any sign of deceit, a tear dropping onto her cheek.

He brushed it away with his thumb. “I did not mean to make you cry.”

“How could I not?” she whispered, her lip trembling. “I do not know if I am dreaming or not, for this is everything I have ever longed to hear. Pinch me, my love.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I will not do that, my darling. I have hurt you enough.”

“But I must know if this is real,” she urged, a flicker of something like panic crossing her face.

He smiled, cradling her cheek with his hand, his other arm sliding around her waist to pull her closer. “Perhaps, this will suffice…”

He dipped his head and kissed her, the graze of his lips against hers like the answering of a prayer. It was not forgiveness, not yet, but she was not pushing him away and demanding that he leave her side forever.

A moment later, she kissed him back, rising up on tiptoe as her arms looped around his neck, pulling his head down to kiss him better.

He smiled against her mouth, his heart racing in celebration as their kiss deepened, slow and fierce and profound.

A moment that chased away the rest of his lingering fear, for this was life, this was living, and no matter how long they had together, he never wanted to be away from her again.

Breathing hard, Teresa pulled back, holding his face in her hands. “I would like a honeymoon.”

He chuckled. “That can be arranged.”

Her fingertips gently brushed his scar. “And I would… like to tell you that I love you, too.” A shaky smile appeared upon her lips. “My goodness, how I love you.”

“Does this mean that I am forgiven?” he asked, hope in his voice.

“I forgive you as much as I love you,” she replied, pulling his head down once more, meeting his lips with her own, kissing him with a hunger he could not resist. Would not resist.

He kissed her harder, wrapping his arms around her, letting the world around them disappear until they were alone in a bubble of bliss. A glorious sign of what the rest of their lives might look like, as long as he never again lost sight of what was important, what made life worth living.

I never shall…

But as they kissed and swayed together, lost in one another, a strange sound managed to pierce through the bubble of their happiness, threatening to pop it.

“Leave my sister alone!” Vincent’s voice yelled. “Stand away from her at once!”

Cyrus and Teresa broke their kiss slowly, their arms still around each other, both turning together toward the manor at the back of that square of garden.

Framed by the terrace doors, being restrained most vigorously by Prudence, Beatrice, and Teresa’s mother, it seemed as if the ladies of the Wilds family—and Teresa’s best friend—had chosen a side, and they were a fierce force against the only one who had chosen the opposing side.

“Unhand me!” Vincent barked.

“Not a chance!” Julianna retorted. “You might be the Lord of this house, my boy, but you will not ruin this moment for Teresa!”

Prudence grinned. “I shall flatten you and sit on your back if you do not come away from the doors!”

“Indeed, you shall have to go through me,” Beatrice agreed, putting herself between Vincent and the terrace doors. “I am tougher than I look.”

At that moment, Teresa burst into glorious laughter, shaking her head as her cheeks flushed a charming pink. “Kiss me again, my love,” she said, peering up at Cyrus. “Let us see how long it takes for my brother’s head to explode.”

“I have an idea,” Cyrus replied, scooping her up into his arms.

With Vincent and the others still squabbling inside the manor, Cyrus carried his wife back through the gate and around to the other side of the hedge, where they would not be seen.

There, still holding her in his arms, he smiled down at her. “I love you.”

“As I love you,” she murmured back, gently stroking the side of his head, lightly running her fingertips through his hair.

Dipping his head to kiss her, he stopped just short. “I must ask, for posterity—does this mean I have my wife back?”

She grinned. “My love, you never lost her.”

With that, he kissed her, shaded by the dense leaves of the boxwood, as the golden sun bathed them in the last of the day’s warmth. A good omen, promising of bright days to come, and the golden future that awaited them. Together.