Fanning the Flame (41 page)

Adam stood so close she could feel the heat of his body, breathe in his scent.

"I asked if you're in love with me."

Her eyes welled with tears. They spilled over onto her cheeks. "Desperately."

A shudder ran the length of his body. "Ah, God." And then she was in his arms. He was trembling nearly as badly as she. "I love you," he whispered against her hair. "I love you so much. I've never said that to any other woman."

Her hands slid into the thick black hair at the nape of his neck and she clung to him as if he might disappear, like the man who haunted her dreams.

"I thought I loved Caroline," he said softly, "but I never told her. Now I'm glad I didn't—because it wouldn't have been the truth."

Her throat ached so badly she couldn't speak. A soft little sob escaped and his arms tightened almost painfully around her.

"Adam . . ." She couldn't stop saying his name. It sounded a little funny with tears clogging her throat.

He eased away, looked into her face. "Will you marry me?"

She wanted to say yes. She had never wanted anything so badly. "What . . . what about Maggie?"

The corner of his mouth edged up. "Garth loves her. He means to marry her. Whatever we do, that isn't going to change."

Jillian leaned toward him, her arms still snug around his neck.

Adam caught her chin, tipped her head back, and kissed her. It was a fierce, thoroughly passionate kiss, yet it was amazingly tender.

"You haven't given me an answer," he said, kissing the side of her neck.

Jillian pressed her cheek to his. "There's nothing in this world I want, my lord, more than to marry you."

Adam drew away and actually grinned down at her. "I was hoping that's what you'd say. I also hope you don't want a big wedding."

"I just want you," she said, meaning every word.

"Good. The vicar is waiting in the drawing room. I've obtained a special license. The Marstons have graciously offered the use of their home. If you say yes, we'll be married tonight."

Jillian blinked back tears and grinned. "Yes, then! Tonight. Now. This very minute!"

Adam lifted her up and spun her around. She was laughing when he set her back down on her feet and very soundly kissed her again.

Entwining her fingers with his, he started tugging her toward the door. "Come, my love. Let's get this over with. I've plans for you that don't include a vicar or anyone else." The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. They were a deep, indigo blue that shimmered with love and the promise of what he meant to do to her, once they were wed. Just thinking of it made the little curls of heat spread out in her stomach.

Jillian married Adam in a brief ceremony in the Rose Drawing Room of the Earl of Richmond's country estate. Jillian dressed in the same gray batiste gown she had been wearing in the schoolroom, Adam still dressed in the slightly wrinkled blue tailcoat and snug gray breeches that he had been traveling in.

Lord and Lady Richmond stood beside them. Teary-eyed and smiling, Lady Richmond handed Jillian a long-stemmed red rose still moist with rain, hand-picked from her garden. The three Marston children were awakened for the special occasion of their governess's wedding to the Earl of Blackwood and attended the affair in their long white cotton night rails.

Afterward, they shared a late celebration supper that included champagne and a special custard with gooseberries served in the shape of a heart.

As the clock struck the hour, she felt Adam's hand at her waist. "Come, love. It's time we said good night." His eyes told her exactly what he intended to do to her once they got to their room, and love and desire shimmered through her.

She thanked Lord and Lady Marston and hugged each of the three Marston children, then took Adam's hand and they headed for the stairs.

She had wanted a new life. Adam had given her one.

He stopped when they reached the door to their second-story bedchamber and lifted her into his arms.

"You're mine now, Countess." He stepped through the door and shoved it closed with the side of his foot. "I'll never let you run from me again."

Jillian twined her arms around his neck and kissed him. "If I run, I'll be sure to go slow enough for you to catch me."

Adam laughed and the sound was deep and joyous. He kissed her as he carried her over to the bed. Jillian's new life had finally begun.

Epilogue

Adam's life at Blackwood Manor had changed since his marriage. Each day seemed fuller, richer, filled with anticipation. He and Jillian had been married just three months and already he couldn't imagine life without her.

His wife had blossomed in the country. The serenity that had drawn him to her the first time he had seen her had returned. She smiled and laughed often, her cheeks glowed with life and health, and her too-slim body had regained its softly feminine curves. She brought peace and joy into his world and he loved her for it—more every day.

He smiled at her now as they left the ivy-covered church they attended every Sunday in the village, and Adam reached for her hand. He helped her climb into the carriage for the short ride home, settled Chris beside her, and sat down in the seat across from them.

Along with the wife he adored, Chris was now part of his family, along with his new brother-in-law Garth Dutton, now that he and Maggie were also happily wed.

On meeting the bride, the future Baroness of Schofield, the cranky old baron, Garth's grandfather, had relented. Maggie had apparently charmed him as easily as she had done his grandson. There would be no disinheritance. Lady Margaret Dutton was welcomed with open arms into the Dutton clan.

The ride from the village was brief. Adam could hear the crash of the sea against the cliffs below the manor as the coach rolled along the circular driveway and pulled to a halt in front of the house. A liveried footman opened the door.

Adam glanced at the two people sitting very properly across from him. "We're home." He grinned. "Last one out is a hedgehog."

Christopher shrieked in delight and scrambled for the door. Jillian laughed and fell in behind him.

Chris was jumping up and down when Adam reached the bottom of the narrow iron stairs. "You're the hedgehog!" Chris said.

Adam ruffled the boy's thick brown hair. "Next time it's going to be you." Dressed in their Sunday finery, they crossed the gravel drive toward the wide porch steps below the portico in front of the double doors.

"Watch out for that mud puddle, son," Adam warned as the child spun around and started skipping backward toward the house. Chris stopped, waited till Jillian and Adam caught up with him.

"Sometimes you call me son." Big green eyes tilted up at him and something softened in the middle of Adam's chest. "I wish it was true. I wish I truly was your son."

Adam had been considering exactly that, a formal adoption officially making the boy a Hawthorne, but he wanted to talk to Jillian about it first.

Chris kicked a pebble with his shoe. "Do you think we could go riding?" The lightning-fast change of subject caught Adam a little off guard.

"Riding?"

He nodded. "Ra needs some exercise."

The stable boys regularly exercised the pony, but it was as good an excuse as any for an eight-year-old boy.

"I've got some paperwork to finish first. And you'll have to change your clothes, but I think we can manage an hour or two." He gazed at Jillian with tenderness. "Maybe Lady Blackwood will join us."

Chris' gaze swung to her. "Would you?" he asked hopefully, clearly as in love with Jillian as Adam was.

She smiled. "I'd love to go, Chris."

"Then it's settled," Adam said. "We'll have Cook pack us a lunch and make a day of it." He was more relaxed these days, more able to enjoy himself. And now that his nightmares were gone, he was sleeping like a child.

Adam reached out and caught Jillian's hand. He liked just holding onto her and any excuse would do. They had almost reached the porch when he saw his mother wandering down the path at the side of the house. The dowager countess had declined to accompany them this Sunday as she usually did. She was feeling a little poorly, she'd said. Apparently from the broad smile she wore beneath her straw hat she was perfectly all right now.

"Adam!" She waved and started toward them. "Yoohoo, Adam!" All three of them smiled and started walking toward her.

"Good morning, Mother," Adam called out to her, but her attention seemed focused on Chris instead of him. Adam frowned as he realized his mother had mistaken the boy for her son in his early years.

Lady Blackwood knelt on the path in front of Chris. "Adam—where on earth have you been? I've been looking all over."

Fortunately, in the last three months, Chris had become well-acquainted with the countess' odd lapses. He endured them good-naturedly and actually seemed to enjoy his brief excursions into the fantasy world in which the older woman lived.

Adam reached down and gently drew his mother to her feet. "That's Christopher, Mother. You remember young Chris."

The countess blinked up at him. She gazed around as if she were waking from a dream. Then she smiled. "Of course I remember him. Christopher is your son."

Adam felt a ripple of tension. He cast a glance at Chris, but the child's attention had wandered to a bee on a nearby blossom.

"Mother?"

She looked up and smiled. "Yes, Adam?"

At least she knew who he was. "Chris is Robert's son, Mother. You know that." Peter Fraser had confirmed a portion of the vicar's story. Caroline was indeed the boy's mother, but he'd found nothing to confirm that Robert was his sire.

The countess frowned. "Don't be silly. Christopher is my grandson. The boy is yours. He looks exactly like you."

That was the truth. Chris looked more like him
every day. But that was hardly the point. "He looks like Robert as well."

She shook her head. "Christopher looks exactly the way you did at his same age. Besides, Robert can't have children."

Something cold slithered into the bottom of his stomach. "What are you talking about?"

"Surely you remember the summer Robert fell ill with that terrible swelling in his throat? He couldn't swallow and there were those awful big lumps on his neck. I was terrified you would come down with it, too."

Something was squeezing inside him. Now that she had reminded him, he did indeed remember. For years he had worked to block any thought of Robert from his head.

"It was the year after Father died," he said. "Robert had just turned sixteen. He'd come to see us the week before and I remember how terrified you were that I would come down with the illness, too."

The countess, completely lucid now, spoke to him as if he were still that boy. "And do you also remember the dreadful fever your cousin suffered? There was some sort of problem with his . . . with his masculine anatomy. The physician said that happened sometimes. He said there was simply no way he would ever be able to sire children."

Adam couldn't speak. He remembered that summer clearly now, remembered Robert's terrible sickness, remembered what the physician had said, and for a moment he hated Caroline Harding.

"Adam . . . ?" He felt Jillian's hand on his sleeve. "Are you all right?"

He swallowed. Apparently satisfied, his mother readjusted her hat and ambled back toward the dower house as if she hadn't just brought Adam's whole world tumbling down.

"That's why Caroline was so certain the child was mine," he said. "Robert must have told her he was sterile. Why didn't I remember?"

Jillian reached down and caught his hand. "Perhaps you didn't want to remember. You couldn't stand to think that your own son could have been treated so badly."

He watched his mother walking back up the hill and turned to find Christopher's solemn green eyes staring up at him.

"Is it true? Are you . . . are you really my father?"

As he looked down at the child any fool could see was his son, an ache rose in his throat. He went down on one knee beside the boy. "Yes, Chris, I am."

"Why didn't you want me?"

The ache swelled. "I didn't know about you until Vicar Donnellson brought you to the house that day. After that, I didn't know what to believe, but I started to love you anyway. Now I know for sure that you're my son. Your real name is Christopher Hawthorne."

Chris' eyes welled with tears and Adam pulled the child into his arms. "I'm your father, Chris. And when I call you son, now you'll know that it's true." Adam looked over his shoulder, saw the moisture in Jillian's eyes. She dabbed at them with a handkerchief she pulled from her reticule.

Adam came to his feet, lifting little Chris up onto his shoulder, and the little boy's arms went around his neck. Adam reached for Jillian's hand, thinking no man had ever been more blessed.

"I love you," he said to her, then looked up at his son. "I love you both so very much." Entwining Jillian's fingers with his, Adam sent up a prayer of gratitude for all that he had been given and guided his family up the path toward the house.