Page 47 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
Straightening, Owen cleared his throat. “I was surprised when Simon encouraged me to spend more time here while he’s away. He said he didn’t want you to be lonely.”
Her fingers stilled, her eyes meeting his. “Did he? That’s kind of him.”
He nodded, leaning against his cue. “Aye, it is. Especially given how possessive he’s been of late.”
She sighed, setting aside her needlework. “I’ve noticed that too. It’s... concerning. How do you tolerate it, Owen? The other night, after we’d all... well, you know. He kept calling me his wife, over and over.” She bit her lip, a habit Owen found endearing.
His jaw clenched, remembering the night in question. He took a deep breath, considering his response. “It’s challenging, but I understand Simon’s fears. He loves deeply, that one.”
“As do you. I just worry. This arrangement of ours, it’s delicate. I couldn’t bear to lose either of you,” she said softly, her eyes filled with warmth.
Owen set down his cue and crossed the space to her again. He kneeled before her, taking her small hands in his. “You won’t lose me, Zee. Ever. I may not have Simon’s title or wealth, but what I have—my heart, my love—it’s yours. Always.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “How do you do it? How do you bear Simon’s possessiveness with such grace?”
His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand. “It’s not always easy. But I made a choice, Zee. A choice to love you, to be with you, even if it means sharing you with him. And that choice... it’s worth every moment of difficulty.”
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “You’re a better man than most, Owen Bishop. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Your strength, your unwavering support... it means everything to me.”
His heart swelled at her words. He cupped her face gently, his rough hands a stark contrast to her soft skin. “And you, my love, are worth every sacrifice. Your happiness matters most to me.”
Zee’s lips curved into a tender smile. “I am truly blessed to have not just one, but two men who love me so deeply. But Owen, your presence in my life... it brings a joy I never thought possible.”
There were some aspects that hadn’t been easy to accept, but he had, for her sake. “I’ve made my peace with our arrangement. Even if it means being ‘Uncle Bishop’ to our children someday.”
Her eyes widened, a mix of surprise and concern flashing across her face. “But Owen, how can you bear the thought of not being recognized as their father? Surely it must pain you.”
Owen’s lips quirked into a small, thoughtful smile. He lowered his hands to clasp hers, his thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “Of course, there’s a part of me that aches at the idea. But being a father isn’t just about blood or titles. It’s about love, guidance, and being there.”
He paused, his gaze never leaving hers. “I may not be called ‘Father,’ but I’ll be there for every skinned knee, every triumph, every heartache.”
“But is that truly enough for you? To be in the shadows, always the uncle, never the father? I would understand if one day you decide to marry another woman.”
He shook his head. “Just imagine, Zee. I’ll be the one to teach them how to fish at our spot by the river. I can see it now—little ones with your sparkling blue eyes, squealing with delight as they reel in their first catch.”
He chuckled softly, his hands gesturing as he painted the scene. “And come Christmastide, I’ll be the uncle who showers them with presents. Maybe a wooden rocking horse I’ve crafted myself, or tiny tools for the curious ones.”
She reached out, running her fingers along his muscular forearm. “Oh, Owen. You make it all sound so wonderful. I can scarcely imagine how dull my life would be without you in it.”
She paused, her eyes meeting his. “You bring such joy and excitement to each day. Even now, in this quiet moment, just being here with you makes everything brighter.”
He grinned, pulling her closer. “Is that so, my dear? And here I thought it was your radiant presence lighting up my dreary existence as a humble blacksmith.”
Her light laughter rang out. “Hardly dreary, you great fool. You’re the talk of every single woman in Kinnerton with those powerful arms of yours.”
“Ah, but there’s only one woman whose opinion I care about,” Owen murmured, his voice low and husky as he leaned in closer.
Her breath caught as his hand cupped her cheek. “You’re so much more than just your physical strength. Though I must admit, those muscular arms of yours are quite... distracting. You really should wear a coat more often in consideration of our weak constitutions.”
He chuckled.
She placed her hand over his. “But it’s your emotional strength that truly amazes me. The way you handle this... unconventional arrangement we have, with such grace and understanding. I don’t know how you do it.”
“It’s not always easy,” he admitted, his voice low and earnest. “But you’re worth it, Zee. Every moment with you is precious to me.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, and she blinked hard. “You’re the cornerstone of this relationship, Owen. Without your strength—both physical and emotional—I don’t know where Simon and I would be. You hold us together. I’m so grateful to have you, for everything you are. You’re not just the man I love, you’re my rock, my anchor in this storm of life.”
His arms encircled her, pulling her close. “And you, my dear, are the light that guides me home.”