Extended Epilogues

“Francis, no running,” Rachael warned.

Francis laughed and turned to Edmund. “But Sebastian and I want to play around.”

Edmund laughed and said, “You can play with Sebastian without running.”

Francis nodded and proceeded to walk into the house. Hermione giggled and followed after Francis. Rachael wanted to call out to her, but was stopped by Edmund. “Let her be. You know how she always wants to be with Francis.”

Rachael sighed. “I want her to be by my side.”

Edmund chuckled and kissed her chastely. “Let her be, my love.”

It had been four years since Hermione was born, but Rachael still felt as though it were yesterday. She found it difficult to let Hermione out of her sight. But Edmund kept reminding her that Hermione was only growing, like every normal person.

It had been four years since Rachael had married, and her life had never been better. Her decision to be wed Edmund was the best decision of her life.

Rachael pouted and slipped her hand into Edmund’s as they walked into the house. The butler bowed.

“Welcome, My Lord. Welcome, My Lady. The Marquess and the Marchioness shall be with you shortly.”

Rachael and Edmund had come to visit Emma and Lord Henry at the Blackmoor Estate in Brighton, as they often did when the season came to an end. This was usually quite a festive season in Brighton, as balls and events piled up. And for this reason, Emma and Lord Henry often prepared chambers for guests who wished to visit and attend the forthcoming balls.

As Rachael and Edmund walked into the drawing room, they were stunned to see that they were not the only ones there. There were a few other people who were seated and had been served tea.

Edmund and Rachael inclined their heads in greeting before they both took their seats. No sooner had they taken their seats than had Emma walked in, smiling. Rachael rose and embraced her dear friend. Edmund rose as well.

“I am so pleased to see you both. Although I had not been expecting you until tomorrow,” Emma said.

Rachael shrugged. “We left quite early. We were uncertain about the weather. ”

Emma nodded. “Oh yes. My cousin by marriage, Robert Baldwin also complained about the weather. ”

Rachael sighed. “Well, it is a good thing that we decided to arrive earlier then.”

Emma laughed. “It indeed is.”

“Where is his Lordship?” Edmund asked.

Emma looked behind her casually. “He has some business to tend to. He should be here soon.”

Edmund nodded.

Emma turned to Rachael after that, as though she recalled something exciting. “I saw Hermione and Francis. How the children have grown! Hermione is going to grow into a beautiful woman.”

Edmund chuckled. “She will look just like Rachael. Beautiful and radiant.”

Rachael blushed. Four years and Edmund still teased her as though they were newlyweds

Rachael was about to ask about Sebastian before her conversation with Emma was interrupted. A tall man with blonde hair walked up to them. He smiled at Emma. “Lady Blackmoor.”

Emma grinned. “Lord Baldwin. Goodness, I was just speaking about you. About your experience with the weather. ”

He nodded and looked ahead. “Indeed. Terrible. The rain did not stop for days.”

Emma nodded. “Exactly what I was informing my dear friend here… Excuse my manners. Lord Baldwin, this is my dear friend, Lady Blackheart. And this is Lord Blackheart. Lady and Lord Blackeart, this is my cousin by marriage, Lord Robert Baldwin,”

Lord Baldwin stretched his hand shook Edmund’s firmly. “I am pleased to make your acq—”

His greeting, Rachael observed, was cut off by the sound of a lady’s laughter, which rang out in the room, loud and sweet. Lord Baldwin froze before gradually turning around. Rachael followed his line of sight to a lady dressed in red dress with dark hair that framed her face and sharp blue eyes. Rachael watched as Lord Baldwin’s lips parted. The lady he was staring at was in a conversation with another lady. But her cheeks reddened. Rachael smiled. The lady was aware of his stare.

“Who is she, Lady Blackmoor?” Lord Baldwin said. His voice was husky as he spoke.

Rachael knew that look. From that look, Rachael could tell that he was enchanted.

“Lady Bella Hampton,” Emma said. Then a maid came to her and whispered. Emma looked at everyone. “Excuse me. I shall return quickly.”

Rachael nodded. Edmund nodded as well. “Go on, it is no problem at all.”

Rachael focused her gaze on Lord Baldwin as soon as Emma was gone.

“Lady Bella Hampton,” he repeated.

“Excuse me,” Lord Baldwin said. He then made his way over to the lady in red. Rachael smiled as she watched him. Love was beautiful. And she did not know why, but she hoped that it worked out between Lord Baldwin and Lady Bella.

Edmund slipped his hand into hers to call her attention. “Your mind seems very far away.”

Rachael giggled. “Not far from you.”

Edmund caressed her hand. “Never.”

They shared a smile, a knowing smile that held promises of a lifetime.

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“Will you be staying for the rest of the summer?”

Raphaella turned around toward the voice. She was pleased to see Lord Westmore walking along the terrace, his wife with him. Raphaella herself was standing on the far side of the terrace at Westmore, looking out over the late summer gardens.

“We plan to go to the coast for a while,” Raphaella told him, feeling a twinge of excitement. “My uncle has a cottage there. We’ll spend some time there before returning to Inverly House for the confinement.”

“I see.” Emilia, Westmore’s wife, nodded. “I am so pleased you could be here for this time, though. It’s lovely to have you here.”

“I’m so pleased to be here,” Raphaella agreed. She was. It was a beautiful scene, the garden bright with autumn, the sunlight catching the leaves and painting them russet against the turquoise of the sky. She breathed in, smelling the fresh, sweet scent of the countryside air.

“I’m glad you don’t feel too out-of-sorts for the odd small house party,” Emilia continued. “I couldn’t resist inviting guests, not now that we have new neighbors.”

“I’m glad I could attend,” Raphaella commented. She looked down into the garden, where the guests had all left the confines of the house and were now gathering in the arbor, the evening light making the deep green shadows a place of peaceful rest. She could spot gentlemen in dark suits standing on the paths here and there, talking to ladies in brightly colored dresses seated on the benches.

She caught sight of Canmure, her brother. He was walking alone down the path between the trees. She thought he looked a little sad, so she bid farewell to Lady Westmore and went to join him.

“Canmure!” she called, as she walked down to join him on the gravel path. He heard her and turned to face her, smiling. She still thought he looked less than cheerful – the smile didn’t quite light up his eyes.

“Sister. How is your evening?” he asked, coming over to join her.

She smiled. “It’s nice. Logan is over there.” She pointed down the garden, “looking at the stables with Lord Amberly. I think he wants to buy his coach horses.” She grinned.

“I see.” Canmure nodded. “Well, I’m sure he’ll get them. I hope that doesn’t mean you’ll be traveling back too soon?” His eyes held her own, waiting for an answer.

Raphaella looked down the path, feeling guilty. She didn’t want to leave Canmure alone up here, but at the same time, she wanted to be at home for when the child was delivered. “I will go when the cold winds come in.” She looked away, not wanting to see him upset.

“Of course, sister.” Canmure nodded. He squeezed her hand fondly. “I want you to be safe. I will endeavor to travel down for the birth, though if the weather doesn’t permit, I might not be there in time.” He made a face. “I do hate bad weather.”

“You’re a dear,” Raphaella said, smiling up at her brother. His smile was uncertain. It felt like there was some new distance between them, as if his own personal sorrow had built a wall between them. She wished she could help her brother, but she didn’t know how. She couldn’t even guess what it was that had upset him.

“I’ll just take a walk down to the gardens. Have a look at the water garden, maybe. It’s cold out here, sister – perhaps you should return to the house. I’m sure Logan will come back from the stables soon.” He gestured up towards the house. “Oh, look! There he is.”

Raphaella looked over her shoulder and, sure enough, she saw the tall, lean form of her husband walking up from the stables. He was walking fast, which meant that the slight limp he had as legacy of his army years was in evidence, making his steps a little heavy on the right side. She walked up to join him, feeling her heart fill with love as he smiled at her.

“You made a deal with him?” Raphaella asked, seeing from the sparkle in Logan’s eye that something had gone well with the talk with Lord Amberly.

“I did!” Logan smiled. “I know it seems a bit overcautious of me to have two teams of horses for the coach, but I think we’ll be doing a lot of traveling between London and here and I want us to be able to do it in the safest possible way.” He took her hands.

“I know,” she said softly. “You’re very dear, Logan.”

“It’s not dear to fuss about you a little – it’s something I just can’t help.” He grinned; his eyes were tender as they rested on her.

She smiled. She stroked his handsome face with her hand, but she felt a little sad still, after her talk with Canmure, and it must have shown in her eyes.

“Are you sure you’re well, dearest?” Logan asked, taking both her hands in his. “I hope you’re not too cold out here.”

“I’m not,” she said. “I was just talking to Canmure. I feel a little worried about him.” She glanced down the path to where he had been a few moments earlier. She couldn’t see him anymore.

“What happened?” Logan asked. “Was he angry about something?”

“No,” Raphaella shook her head, aware of how protective Logan’s voice sounded, even when discussing somebody as close as her brother. “I just felt bothered about him because he looks so sad.”

“Shall we go and find him?” Logan suggested, looking down the path where she had been staring too. “We can talk to him about coming to stay in London for the Season. I’m sure he’d like that, and we won’t be spending time out at parties this year.”

“That’s a good idea.” Raphaella nodded. She walked with Logan down the path towards the trees. Canmure could do with coming back to London, she thought. Westmore was his best friend, but there were so few people up here in the north besides Westmore for him to spend time with.

“I’m sure he would be happier down in London. As you said, he’s not really a country fellow, though he does seem to like it up here in the summer months.”

“Yes,” Raphaella replied, though she wasn’t really concentrating. She’d just spotted Canmure, and he was talking to somebody, a young lady.

She looked at the lady carefully. She was younger than herself by a few years, she thought. She had long wavy hair of a beautiful pale gold color, and a curvaceous figure. She thought she recognized her, but her name didn’t come to her mind at once.

“That’s Lady Esquith,” she murmured, recalling the name as they waited. She watched her brother talking to the woman. They were far away, and no words reached them, but she thought he looked earnest and the lady looked interested in what he was saying.

She looked up at Logan and then back at the pair, as Jeremy Alford, Lord Fielder, her brother, came up to them.

Logan nodded as she gestured that they go back. They turned around and walked back up to the house. They moved away as carefully as possible, so as not to disturb the couple.

“That’s good to see,” Raphaella said softly to Logan as they walked up the path that led to the dining room, heading through the rose arbor.

“It is,” Logan nodded. “I would be pleased to see Lady Esquith settling into the neighborhood.”

“They’re new here?” Raphaella asked, though she could recall now that Lady Westmore had introduced them and that she was newly arrived in the area – she and her brother were living in Fielder House, an old manor not far from Westmore.

“Yes. She insisted they move here following the death of Lord Esquith. I understand she insisted, and then she and her brother moved in.” He raised a brow, clearly surprised by the lady’s persistence.

“I think there must be a story there,” Raphaella nodded. She glanced back to the clearing, but she couldn’t see the pair anymore.

She thought that she would be pleased to hear the story when she had a chance.

Lady Westmore was standing at the other side of the room, and she went to join her. She had spotted Jeremy through the window, it seemed, for she turned to Raphaella, one brow lifted, her lips drawn up in a smile.

“That’s our new neighbor. He’s a welcome addition to the neighborhood. I’m glad they’ve come over to visit – I worried that they wouldn’t agree yet.”

“Oh?” Raphaella frowned, keen to learn more about them. “Would there have been reason to refuse?”

“Not really,” Lady Westmore said softly. “Only they’re just up from London – I understand Lord Esquith was somewhat problematic. Lady Esquith is a well-known heiress – she and her brother are from a wealthy family – and I think her marriage was not a happy one.”

“I see,” Raphaella nodded. She felt her heart go out to the beautiful young lady.

When she saw her walking in with her brother by her side, she felt a bit happier. Canmure looked happy too, and she felt certain all would be well.

Logan came over to join her, taking her hand in his.

“You look happy, dear.” He smiled down into her face.

“I am,” she said, turning to look up at him, feeling her heart suddenly fill with warmth and tenderness for him. “I love you,” she said softly, so that only he could hear her.

“I love you, too,” he murmured.

She took his hand and they walked out together into the garden.

“I am glad we’re here,” Logan murmured. “It’s good to be in the countryside and to see Canmure again.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “And we’ll be coming back here quite often, I think. I don’t intend to ever stay away from the country long.” She stole a glance at her husband and slyly said, “We will need to bring our family out here too, you know. To our cottage.”

“Our family?” Logan grinned. “You mean, apart from our new child?” He rested his hand on her belly, a gesture that touched her deeply.

“Oh, yes,” she said, feeling a smile cross her face. “I don’t intend to have just one, you know.”

“No?” His eyes were bright, and she had to laugh. He didn’t look too daunted; that made her heart soar.

“No. I think we shall have three, or even four of them.”

He laughed and held her close and she kissed his cheek and together they walked on into the sunlit garden.

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A pregnant Grace was sitting in a chair in her bed chamber. She groaned and placed a hand on her baby bump. She sighed. Her husband came in, beaming to see her there.

“Have the guests started arriving?” she asked, straightening up.

“Not yet but they should arrive at any moment. All we need to do is to relax and wait for the party to commence.”

Grace smiled and stood up. “I need to dress. You should do the same,” Grace said to him.

“I will. First, I need to go see what the servants are up to,” he said to his wife. He paused, smiling as he looked out the window.

Grace stood up excitedly. She stood up to see what he had seen and a smile spread across her lips. In the drive, she could see a carriage, her mother and father climbing out of it.

“Well, let’s go meet them,” Grace said. That morning, they were expecting the Duke of Oxford and Marie, who had promised to come visit them that morning. Together, Grace and Alexander walked downstairs.

“Father!” Grace cried excitedly. She ran into her father’s arms and then she pulled away to hug her mother as well. “I have missed you both so much.”

“We have missed you as well, darling,” her father replied. “How long has it been?”

“About six months,” Grace replied. That was when she and her husband had last gone to pay them a visit. Grace and Alex had retired to the county seat, while her mother and father had remained in London.

Alexander came out to receive them and while Alexander and the Duke walked ahead into the house, she and her mother walked behind.

“So, when last did you hear from Lady Stephanie and her husband?” her mother asked as Lady Stephanie had gotten married two months ago to Lord Exeter.

“Oh, we write to each other all the time,” Grace replied. “So, Mother, what about you and father? Have you both finally decided to live together?”

Her mother blushed. “Something like that.”

“Better,” Grace replied. “Because you are both too old to be playing hard to get.” Her mother laughed as they walked into the house together.

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Six Months Later

“How’s the sickness now?” Marion asked.

Eleanor smiled as she rubbed her swollen belly. The baby shifted a little and kicked against her hand.

“It comes and goes now. If I don’t move too quickly, I’ll be fine.”

Marion shuddered. “I can’t imagine being nauseous while you’re pregnant. Is that normal?”

“Mr. Fallowfields says it is, but I doubt it.” Eleanor shook her head. “Father said Mother was never this sick, and Nathan said that his mother didn’t have sickness as bad as this when she was pregnant. But I suppose every pregnancy is different.”

“Which means some women suffer more than others,” Marion muttered.

Eleanor couldn’t agree more. She had become pregnant very quickly after the wedding, and she could still remember the moment she told Nathan. He had picked her up and spun her around the room, which had resulted in Eleanor almost throwing up all over him. Her husband was still beaming a week later.

Even now, he was still smiling, walking across the lawn of their country house with Simon, and their English sheepdog jumping around them like a mad thing. Eleanor had been insistent about getting a dog, a dream of hers for some years now. Her father had refused to get a dog, claiming that her mother didn’t like them, and they made him sneeze. Nathan had been too happy to oblige, and Samson was an adorable pup. Eleanor didn’t think she could love anyone more.

Except her husband. And now her baby.

“I can’t wait for the baby to arrive.” Eleanor rubbed slow circles over her belly. That seemed to settle the discomfort a little. “Just a few more months to go.”

“From the look of it, Captain Reynolds can’t wait, either.” Marion smiled. “He still hasn’t gone back to France, and I thought he would be heading back once he confirmed you were pregnant.”

Eleanor smiled. “He says he’s been given permission to stay on leave for another year. I think he just doesn’t want to leave me when I’m this sick.”

“You think?”

“He has been sticking closer to me when you’re not around.”

Which he had. Nathan was being a very attentive father-to-be, doing anything he could to make Eleanor feel better. Eleanor had told him several times that he could go back and carry on fighting against the French – they did need him – but Nathan had simply responded that his priority now was his wife and child. Nothing was getting in the way of that.

For a man who was very set in his ways and determined to go back to France, that was a big step. Eleanor had never thought she would hear that. While she did feel a little guilty for Nathan not serving his country, she wasn’t about to complain. She would make every second count.

There was a series of barks, and Eleanor watched as Nathan picked up a stick and threw it, Samson charging after it. She smiled.

“If I’m honest, it’s nice to have him around.”

“I can imagine” Marion murmured. “At least you know you’re married.”

Eleanor glanced over. Her friend was sitting beside her on the terrace, staring out across the lawn. Eleanor didn’t need to guess who Marion was looking at, not with that faraway look on her face. Her friend had been like this since being properly introduced to Simon. Eleanor had wondered about it at the beginning, Nathan laughing when she told him about it. To him, it sounded like Marion was quite taken with Simon. And from what her husband knew, the feeling was mutual.

Eleanor didn’t know about that. The two of them barely spoke, and they were rarely in the same room long enough to talk. But Marion’s expression said she would happily spend all day listening to the Earl of Reading.

“Marion?” Eleanor leaned over and nudged her friend’s knee. “Are you all right?”

“Hmm?” Marion blinked and turned to her. Then she shook herself. “Oh, forgive me, Eleanor. I didn’t know I had drifted off.”

“Where did you go?”

“I’m…” Marion’s face went a little red. “I was just…soaking in my surroundings.”

Eleanor grinned. “Soaking in the sight of the Earl of Reading, from the look of it.”

Marion’s eyes widened. “Eleanor!”

“What? What’s wrong with making a passing comment?”

“It’s not a passing comment, and you know it,” Marion snapped.

Eleanor looked out at her husband and his friend. Simon was now making Samson play fetch with him, the pup tripping over his feet as he chased around after the stick. Seeing the Earl look so carefree and relaxed was refreshing. It was no wonder Marion found him attractive to watch.

“I have noticed how much you look at him. There’s no harm in looking, is there?”

Marion scowled. “There is when nothing can come of it.”

“You believe that nothing can happen between the two of you?”

Marion looked away.

“Eleanor, I’m not of his station, and Lord Reading still pines for his dead wife. I can’t compete with a woman I’ll never meet.”

There was that. Simon was still mourning his wife. But he had been doing a lot of looking at Marion himself. Eleanor had noticed. There was a good chance he was ready to move on. Eleanor couldn’t think of anyone better than Marion to help him with that.

“Oh, Marion.” Eleanor clasped her friend’s hand. “You’re worrying too much. I never said you had to approach him and express undying love. Just enjoy admiring a good-looking man. That’s what I’m doing.”

“It’s different for you. You’re married to him.”

Eleanor giggled. “There is that factor.” She rose to her feet, swaying a little before she got her balance. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk. Let the boys play with the dog.”

Marion hesitated, then she rose to her feet and gave her friend a smile. “All right. I could do with stretching my legs.”

“Good.” Eleanor slipped her arm through Marion’s. “And then you can help me choose a few names. Nathan and I are still stuck. We could use some outside advice.”

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A very large and very happy wedding party walked down the main street of Birdwell from the little white church, right past the little office where the newly lettered window read James Brookford, Solicitor. Then everyone crowded inside the dining room of the Robbins Inn, which had been beautifully, perfectly set up, for the most wonderful wedding breakfast that the town had ever seen.

Almost everyone who lived in and around Birdwell had accepted the invitation – everyone who could be spared from their farms and businesses – and, of course, Lord and Lady Worthington attended as well. At one point, while Merope greeted the excited young women who had crowded around to congratulate her, she saw the earl shake hands with James and then give him a sealed letter.

That was the deed to the inn. Her mother had seen it, too, and they looked at one another and smiled. Now the inn would always be in the family and could not ever be sold or lost. Merope felt as though a very great weight had been lifted from her slim shoulders.

There was so much food that the tables seemed hardly able to hold it all. There were four different kinds of bread; big plates of cold fresh butter; crocks of honey; huge platters of roasted chicken and sliced baked ham; and what looked like every last piece of fruit, and all of the vegetables to be had in the entire town.

Among the guests, were two that Merope had especially hoped to see: Sally Henson and Daniel Bird. To the best of her knowledge, the pair of them had not spoken since the disastrous events at the Albany House ball.

As the guests started on the final courses being served, Sally and Daniel sat at opposite ends of the room and went to great lengths to avoid each other. That would simply not do. Merope wanted both of them to find some happiness of their own, but they were not going to find it this way.

Merope caught her mother’s eye and gave her a slight nod. At that, Mrs. Robbins stood up from her place at the table to make an announcement.

“My honored guests,” she began. “At this lovely event, I have an additional bit of good news for our town. Next spring, there will be another series of assembly balls, here in Birdwell. After the success of the ones held last year, we could not go without having them again!”

There was genuine applause and happy cheering in the room. An assembly ball was open to anyone with the price of a ticket, so in theory, all were invited, and the gatherings certainly gave everyone in town some fine amusement to look forward to.

“And I wish to add,” Mrs. Robbins went on, “that I am calling on two very special people to work closely with me on every detail of the planning of all three events, and I am sure they will not turn me down. I should like to ask Miss Sally Henson and Mr. Daniel Bird to stand up here beside me now.”

Merope quickly took a sip of her coffee to hide her smile. She saw James glance at her with a gleam in his eye, for he knew exactly what she had done. “They will be forced to work together for months to create all three of those evenings,” he whispered to her. “There will be no escape for either one of them.”

“I should hope not!” Merope said, and laughed with him as they watched Sally and Daniel go up front to stand beside Mrs. Robbins.

“Ah, I knew I could count on you both,” she said to them. “I will have much for you to do in the months to come!”

Daniel and Sally glanced at each other and smiled faintly. It was clear that they were not pleased about this, but there was little they could do now after being put on the spot by Merope’s mother. Which was, of course, the intention all along.

The two of them started to return to their places, but Mrs. Robbins had one more request. “Miss Henson has also very generously agreed to help us return the inn to working order this evening, so I would like to ask Mr. Bird to drive her home tonight once she has finished here.”

He took a deep breath, and then bowed to Mrs. Robbins – who looked quite pleased with herself. Then he and Sally went and sat down again at their places, looking quite morose among the happy wedding guests.

“Very good work,” whispered James to Merope.

She smiled triumphantly. “I want them to be as happy as we are, before that can happen, we’ve got to get them together.”

“Indeed.” As the servants – most of them from Worthington – began clearing away the plates in preparation for bringing out the wedding cake, James turned to Merope once again. “I have a wedding gift for you.”

“A wedding gift? What do you mean?”

“You have given me a gift: This inn, which is now in my name. The least I could do was give you a gift as well, although it is not anywhere nearly as wonderful as the Robbins Inn.”

She shook her head. “I cannot imagine.”

He reached beneath his coat and drew out a very fine, leather-bound book. “I think you may enjoy this one.”

Merope took the book and looked at the inlaid gold lettering on the cover. “Much Ado About Nothing,” she read. “By William Shakespeare – ”

Quickly she set the book down. “Oh, my dear husband . . . please, you know how the other Shakespeare only left me heartbroken and weeping.”

He smiled and pressed the book into her hands again. “I promise you, this one will not. I chose it because for a time, all looks lost and hopeless, then all is well in the end. Even better, those involved find themselves stronger, and closer together, for all they have been through.”

She looked up at him and held the book close. “Then I will risk it,” she said.

“I knew you would,” he answered.

As soon as they had seen their guests off, James and Merope snuck upstairs, to the room that they would be sharing. The anticipation of this moment had been building for Merope, as the day progressed. She knew, from the night of the Albany House ball what to expect.

James undressed her slowly, trailing kisses along the back of her neck. “I missed you,” he murmured as he slid the fabric of her dress off of her shoulders. She smiled, turning towards him.

He had already loosened his cravat. She unbuttoned his shirt, as he threw off his jacket. Merope reveled in the fact that the daylight revealed more of him than she had seen the first time, in the dark of the mill. He unbuttoned his trousers, as she pushed the fabric off of his shoulders.

He lifted her, setting her down on the bed, kissing her lips, then trailing kisses down her neck. Merope moaned, wrapping her fingers in his dark hair. He looked up at her, kneeling in between her legs.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Trust me?”

“Always.”

He pushed her legs open with the flat of his palms. He teased her with his tongue. Merope lay back, letting him pleasure her. She could feel it building inside of her. She moaned, as her skin heated.

She felt her muscles contract. She felt like she was blooming. When she opened her eyes, he was watching her, a smile on his face.

“Come here,” she said, opening her arms. James leaned over her, his breath was warm against her neck. His eyes were on hers as he entered her. Merope moved her hips upward to meet his. As she lay there, her arms wrapped around his neck, she felt desired and loved. James pressed his forehead to hers. Their eyes locked.

This was a love story, Merope knew. One which had a happy ending.

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