Page 30 of The Autumn Wife (King’s Girls #3)

The confession done, Cecile pressed against Theo’s shoulder, head bowed, listening to his heart pounding under her ear like Huron war drums. She felt deflated, as if the whole terrible story had unloaded into the silence like a tipped cart of fieldstone.

She remained curled up against him, terrified at what she might see if she dared to peel her cheek off his chest and look up into eyes that only moments ago had been filled with desire and adoration.

“Ceci.” His voice rumbled. “You saved your son. It had to be done.”

She let go of the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Hadn’t she told herself the same thing— it had to be done—a thousand times? Yet no matter how many times she repeated those words, they’d never burrowed deep enough to take root.

“Theo…” She gasped. “You believe me?”

“Every word.”

“But—”

“No exceptions.” He made a growling sound as he reached down to touch the burn scars at her hip and then reached up to trace the scar by her hairline. “I see what he’s done to you. Had you told me you’d planned a cold-blooded execution, I would still say you did what had to be done.”

His acceptance unstitched her, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to forgive herself. “Theo, I still took a life.”

“If you hadn’t had that flintlock in hand, you would have flung yourself between those two. Am I right? You would have taken the bullet yourself.”

She would have. No question. But that wouldn’t have stopped Eduard, and Etienne still would have been in danger. She squeezed her eyes shut to fight a tornado of emotions.

“This is why you wanted to join the convent.” He gave her a nudge as if to loosen her whelk-like body-curl. “You were seeking absolution.”

“You think too well of me.” Was forgiveness possible for such a mortal sin? “I wanted to join the convent for sanctuary from the law.”

He had been running his fingers down her naked back, but now they stilled. “Why would you need sanctuary? Is your husband still—”

“He’s gone.” She had hit the man full center. She’d seen him fall back into the river and sink. She and Etienne had stood at the river’s edge, breathing hard and in a state of numb shock. “He won’t be back.”

“Witnesses?”

“None but birds. And Etienne.”

“Good.”

“There’s…another complication.” She braced herself. “Talon has begun an investigation into my husband’s absence. There’s no stopping it. I won’t legally be a widow until Talon declares me so.”

“Then the investigation must proceed.” He pressed his lips against the top of her head and then slid down so they were face-to-face. He cupped one cheek. “After so much time, and no witnesses, the law won’t find you.”

She lost herself in his kind, loving eyes, wanting to believe he was right. Wanting to believe he wasn’t just telling her what she wanted to hear. Wanting to believe that dreams really could come true.

With that impetus, she leaned in and kissed him, letting hope rise along with a thousand other sensations. Skimming her palm across his chest, she nudged herself closer to his strong, beautiful body. How well they moved against each other, yielding and bending and pressing close.

When he slid atop her and entered her with a groan of his own, he knit their fingers together and pushed her arms above her head. He kissed her and moved with her and kissed her again until pleasure consumed them both.

After, as she drifted down from the peak of her excitement, she became aware of the fur blanket lifting, the cold air tingling her skin as he wiped her belly clean. His lips fell like a spark between her breasts before he covered them both up again.

“My Ceci.” His green eyes lit with a brightness that wasn’t just from the reflected glow of the stove’s golden-red coals. “I am in awe of the woman who came to me tonight, sharing so much more than her body.”

“I am yours.” The truth didn’t frighten her anymore. “Now and forever.”

“In that case…” He pressed his forehead against hers. “Let’s get married.”

The next morning, Theo stepped out of the barn into the bite of the morning chill, but nothing could dampen the warmth flooding through him.

Cecile had left the barn earlier, for the sake of appearances, to slip back to the cabin in the pre-dawn.

She had promised not to say a word about their engagement—even to Marie—until Theo joined them for breakfast.

Breakfast couldn’t come soon enough.

Following her wind-faded footprints through a dusty covering of snow, he swiped some firewood from the pile by the side of the cabin.

Stepping onto the porch, he pulled the door open just like every other morning, except this time he fought down a grin.

He called out a hearty greeting as his gaze passed across the warm room to Marie, sitting with her back to everyone, nursing, then to Lucas at the table, finishing a bowl of sagamité, and then straight to Cecile where his gaze stopped.

She was bending over a steaming pot by the hearth fire, her hair damp at her temples, her cheeks flushed from steam, fighting her own smile.

“There you are.” Captain Girard slammed a meaty hand on the table, making everyone jump. “Lazing about past dawn, are we?”

Theo stilled. The captain’s silver gaze narrowed pinpoint fierce, and the tone of his voice ran rough. The captain usually greeted him in a more jovial way. A side glance at Cecile suggested she was just as surprised at the captain as he.

“Here I thought you’d be up at first light.” Lucas clanked his pewter spoon beside his bowl. “Are you so eager to leave us for Quebec—and a berth on a ship to France?”

Was that the trouble? The captain hadn’t been happy, yesterday, when Theo had informed him of his decision to leave. But the burly Lucas hadn’t reacted with nearly as much passion as now. “Actually,” Theo ventured, crouching by the hearth to set the firewood in the bin. “I’ve been thinking—”

“Oh,” Lucas interrupted, “you’ve been thinking, have you?”

“Lucas.” The warning came from Marie, still nursing the baby on the far side of the room.

“You’re only thinking,” the captain continued, “about the ship you’ll be sailing out of these settlements. That’s the only thing on your mind, Theo Martin, now that you’re finally a free man.”

Free man echoed in his head.

He swayed on his heels. He’d been counting down the days to freedom for four long years. How could he have overlooked—even for a moment when he’d arisen from his bed this morning—that his indentured servitude had finally come to an end?

“Congratulations, Theo.”

The sight of Cecile answered his own question. He’d forgotten because this woman filled his mind now. This woman who, once all the complications were settled, would be this free man’s wife.

“So,” Lucas prompted, still frowning, “was it the packing of the canoe that made you late to the table? Or is it that you can’t wait to be gone?”

“There will be no berth on a ship for me.” Theo swelled with pride and wonder, unsteady in this new freedom. “I’ll be staying in these settlements.”

“Why?” Lucas barked. “Did the Saint Lawrence River ice up early, making travel impossible? Or do you think you’ve missed the last ship?”

Theo glanced at Cecile, silently questioning whether this was the time to announce their news. She remained stunned—and mum—watching the captain while holding the wooden spoon suspended above the pot.

Theo stalled. “I’ve got my reasons for staying, Captain. Good reasons.”

“What a man of whims you’ve turned out to be.” Pewter utensils and earthenware bowls rattled as the captain slammed both hands against the table again. “Only yesterday, you were so eager to go. Damn it, man—”

“Lucas, language.” Marie glanced over her shoulder toward the hearth, where the two-year-old Charles sat on a braided rug, eyes wide above the wooden toy he was gumming.

The captain grunted, but he did not cease his glower. “So, then, are you just to stay in the settlements until the spring ships come and then leave us?” He pointed at Cecile. “Are you going to break that woman’s heart?”

Realization struck Theo hard. Ah, so that’s the root of this matter. The captain knew he and Cecile had spent the night together.

“Enough.” Cecile stepped toward Lucas, holding the dripping wooden spoon aloft. “Captain, I know you’re standing in the place where my father would, if I’d ever known my father, but I won’t have you roaring at this good man.”

“Good man, you say? Are you daft, woman—”

“Careful.” Theo took a step toward the table. “No one talks like that to my future wife.”

The room went stone silent but for the slobbering sounds of little Charles sucking on the toy.

Damn, had he really said that aloud? He and Cecile were supposed to announce this together. He turned to her with an apology on his face, only to find her grinning.

“I suppose it was foolish,” Cecile said, “to think we could keep this from them for more than a moment.”

“Keep it from us?” Marie stood from the chair, the nursing done, her bodice-scarf tucked in. Patting the babe against her shoulder, she headed toward the cradle beside the hearth, tsking every step of the way. “As if we couldn’t figure it out for ourselves.”

“I told you, Chepewéssin,” the captain said, using Marie’s Huron nickname. “I won’t believe it until I hear it out of this blackguard’s mouth.” The captain shot to his full height. “And now that it’s been said, it’s the finest of news, Theo. The finest.”

Lucas bellowed a laugh, a roar that rattled the pewterware anew, before thrusting a hand toward him.

Theo extended his own, wincing at the grip.

“I promise you,” Lucas said, shaking Theo’s hand as if he were trying to set it loose from his wrist, “if you had tried to take a canoe and leave this girl behind, I’d have sent you off in bruises.”

A warning as well as a congratulations, Theo thought, and both enthusiastically spoken.

Lucas came around the table, seized him by the shoulders, and gifted him with a bone-rattling shake.