With This Kiss Part 18

Grace nodded. "All. She said she's held off your parents-and my father-as long as humanly possible. They are longing to see for themselves that your eyes are mended."

"They know that." Colin laughed. "They just want to see the two of us together. Actually, I'm amazed that your father hasn't broken down the front door and demanded that I explain my presumption in marrying his daughter."

"Never underestimate my mother," Grace said serenely. "And besides, Father loves you. I'm sure he's delighted."

"Son-in-law to the Duke of Ashbrook," Colin said, leading Daedalus back into the stables. "It has a rather grand ring, doesn't it?"

Grace shrugged and then waved her hand in front of her face. "It's so hot."

"It's not hot by the lake," Colin said, his voice dropping an octave. "I have a fancy to go swimming. Without clothing." He swung the gate to Daedalus's stall shut.

"Colin!" The truth was that they had shed their clothing to go swimming . . . but only after dark.

"It's our last day alone," he said, grabbing both her hands. "Tomorrow it will all be different, Grace. Family, and servants, and the rest of it."

"We mustn't!"

"We must."

And then she was flying down the hill toward the lake, pulled forward by a long-legged man bellowing with laughter.

In the course of her life Grace painted three images of a man running away from the viewer, his head turned back, his face giddy with desire and love.

One of those paintings was bought within a moment of its viewing by a very rich American who spent a good chunk of his fortune to bring it home in triumph to Astor Place. A second was bought by a scion of the royal family (and later sold at a 200% profit). The third was never offered for sale but hung in Mrs. Colin Barry's bedroom all the days of her life.

During those many years, she only met one person who didn't think the painting was a masterpiece. "I don't care for it," Miss Portia Barry said dubiously, at the grand age of age eight. "I've never seen Papa with that expression."

Her mother just laughed.

The family descended the next afternoon in a very grand carriage holding two ex-pirates and their ladies, followed by six more carriages with children and nannies and personal servants and not-so-personal servants. That was the end of the quiet house, and with one rueful look, Colin told Grace that there would be no more making love in the sitting room, or the kitchen, or wherever took their fancy.

Grace didn't have time to do more than smile back, because she was swept away to the ladies' sitting room by her mother, the d.u.c.h.ess of Ashbrook, and Colin's mother, Lady Barry.

"Tell us everything!" the d.u.c.h.ess demanded, plumping down on a small sofa and looking at her expectantly. Lady Barry sat down right beside her. Their eyes were shining and they looked like children about to see a pantomime.

Grace opened her mouth, but Lady Barry interrupted. "Before you say a word, I just want to say how grateful I am. Colin-" Grace realized that the lady's eyes were shining with tears, not antic.i.p.ation. She swallowed and continued. "-I could see with just a glance that Colin is very nearly himself again, and I know it is all your doing, Grace, darling. You saved him, our brave, wonderful boy."

"He's no boy," the d.u.c.h.ess said, patting Lady Barry's hand. "He's a man." She twinkled at Grace. "And I, for one, am positively dying of curiosity. Oh, not for the precise details," she added, "but the general gist?"

"Well, we were in the carriage," Grace said, stumbling a bit.

"I think it was lovely the way you offered to escort him to the country when your mother couldn't," Lady Barry put in. "We will never be able to express our grat.i.tude enough. Never."

"You did give Grace your son," the d.u.c.h.ess said. "I'm sure she finds that thanks enough. But do tell us! What happened in the carriage? Colin didn't appear to be even slightly interested in matrimony during the brief time I saw him at our house . . . and next thing I know we had that letter announcing your marriage!"

Grace could feel herself blushing. "He kissed me," she said awkwardly.

"Of course he did," Colin's mother said, nodding. She turned to the d.u.c.h.ess. "I know our foolish husbands got into a tangle worrying about Colin's infatuation with Lily, Theo, but that was never going to happen. Colin loves Grace and he always has."

"I-that's what he says," Grace confirmed.

Her mother was beaming madly. "It was your letters! How could he resist you? Didn't I say so? I've always known that the two of you would be together," she cried.

Grace smiled at her, and her mother opened her arms. "Come here, you wonderful girl. I'm so happy that-"

The door burst open and two former pirates surged in. "How dare you can keep my daughter away from me," the duke bellowed.

Grace gave her mother a last squeeze and ran to her father's arms. "Papa."

He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. "Everything's well? That boy is treating you like a princess? Because I'll have his hide if he isn't."

"Of course he is," Lord Barry interrupted. "My son is well aware that he's the luckiest man on the seven seas."

Grace turned to smile at her new father-in-law, and he pulled her into his arms. "You saved our boy, Grace," he said, his voice fervent. "He's happy. I haven't seen him happy in years. Not in years."

And then Colin walked in the door and Grace flew to him like a bird to her nest. She smiled at their four parents from the circle of his arms.

The duke had plumped down beside his wife and was whispering something in her ear. Lord Barry had seized his wife from behind and was resting his chin on the top of her head. "I hope you never have to experience what we've been through, James," he said, shooting a look at his cousin and closest friend.

"I know it's been h.e.l.l," the duke said.

"Poppy and I owe you a world of thanks, Grace," Lord Barry said.

"Phoebe," his wife corrected him, poking him in the ribs with her elbow. But she was nodding, too. "I was just telling Grace that we cannot adequately express our grat.i.tude."

Grace learned against Colin, who was silently watching the lively chatter. That was characteristic of him, actually. And then she realized that they were a pair, a silent, observant couple.

Still, in the circle of his arm, she wasn't a lonely observer. She wasn't a wallflower, anymore. She could be herself rather than wishing she was more vivacious, more full of chatter, more like Lily.

"Where is Lily?" she asked. Her sister would never have stayed away while the adults congregated.

"Well, that's a story in itself!" her mother said, laughing. "She made me swear not to tell you."

"Mother!"

"Do you remember how you absolutely refused to debut until Lily was old enough to debut with you?"

Grace nodded.

"I do believe that she feels the same way about you . . . except the subject is marriage rather than dance floors."

Her father broke in, his face alight with mischief. "Here's a hint. There's only one man in London who has never shown the faintest interest in your sister . . . so who do you think she set her heart on?"

"James!" the d.u.c.h.ess said, as Grace began to laugh.

"What are they talking about?" Colin asked.

"I always said that I would only marry a man who didn't fall in love with Lily first," she said, giggling helplessly.

Then she glanced up and saw her husband's face. He whisked her out of the sitting room door so quickly that she gasped, twirled her around so that her back was against the wall, and looked down at her, anguish in his eyes.

"Colin, I didn't mean-"

"I love you," he said fiercely. "And I did fall in love with you first, Grace, because I fell in love with you when you were only twelve years old, and then again when you turned sixteen, by the lake. Do you remember that afternoon? You were painting and I came to find you."

She nodded. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead and he looked so beautiful that she ached.

"I almost-I almost did something unconscionable then. I nearly kissed you, even knowing that I was a damaged man who likely wouldn't return from war. After that I tried to stay away from you." He looked at her sternly, as if he expected her to burst into tears.

But she didn't plan to cry about this particular subject again. Colin loved her; she knew it with every bone in her body. He was hers.

Grace rose on her toes and kissed him softly. "I don't want John; I never truly did. He was there, and I thought you didn't want me. Lily can have him, with my blessings."

"I did want you." But whatever else he might have said was lost because Grace was kissing him.

He tasted of himself, of st.u.r.dy, honorable, delicious man. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she arranged herself shamelessly against his body, pressing into his strength and heat and the pure maleness of him.

A burst of laughter from the sitting room jerked them back to themselves. "Blast this family anyway," Colin muttered, cupping her face in his. "I want you again, d.a.m.n it. I need you. Let's go upstairs. Or to the lake. Around the far side of the lake."

"You'll have to wait," Grace said, giving him an impish smile, quite as if her own heart wasn't beating so fast she could feel it in her throat. "My mother would be scandalized."

So they walked back into the sitting room to find the four parents cl.u.s.tered together, laughing uproariously over something the duke had just said to his wife. Grace found herself longing to paint her mother and father again. She'd done so many times, but each year they grew more fascinating.

Her mother was laughing, her thin face alight with intelligence and joy. And the duke looked at her with such adoration, a man who was unashamed of the deep devotion and love he felt for his brilliant wife.

But now Grace had new family to paint as well. Lord Barry's head was bent as he talked to his wife, and she couldn't see the small blue poppy that marked his cheek. Even though Lord Barry was now a respected judge and member of Parliament, the pirate was still very close to the surface. It would be fun to try to catch the swashbuckling heart inside an elegantly clothed n.o.bleman.

Lord Barry's wife kept him on the near side of the law, or so he liked to say. Phoebe was his even keel in a storm, the sole person who could tease him from a rage with a mere smile.

I will be that for you, Grace vowed silently, putting her head on Colin's shoulder. I promise to be your rock.

Their eyes met and then, before she quite knew how, her husband was pulling her out of the house, away from the noise and the children and the servants, all the way around the lake.

They didn't come back until it was suppertime.

But no one minded.

And the d.u.c.h.ess was not scandalized.

Epilogue.

Ten years later Arbor House By late summer, Portia was almost nine and the rest of them were a little or a lot younger. There were many children, a whole tribe of them. That's what their mamas called them. A pack of wolves, their papas said.

That August they rocketed about Arbor House, all the children whose grandfathers had been pirates, though Portia felt that she was the most important. Both of her grandfathers had been pirates, and her papa had also been a fierce sea captain. What's more, she was the oldest of all of them.

She had the sea in her blood, and sometimes, if she lay very still at night, with one ear pressed into her mattress, she could even hear the sound of waves.

If that wasn't the sign that the sea was in her blood, what could it be?

But now August was coming to an end, and pretty soon everyone would have to go back to their homes because no one lived at Arbor House, except in the summer. Mama said (and Grandmother agreed) that the house had grown old from being battered by too many children.

Portia loved Arbor House with a pa.s.sion, and she meant to live there when she grew older. The back garden was full of half-wild barn cats, and there were nettles in the fields that smelled like black currants. Her mother spent her days painting by the lake instead of tucked away in her studio.

And her papa was always there, too. This summer he had taught her how to shoot a bow and arrow, and how to tie a slipknot. She didn't really want to live on a boat, but those skills would be useful in case she ever capsized at sea and landed on a desert island. Portia liked to plan ahead. Her mother said that she inherited that from her grandmother, the d.u.c.h.ess.

This particular afternoon Portia had organized her troupe of eight-all the children who had learned to speak-to put on a play she had written herself. It was a very patriotic play, in which the queen (played by Portia) would quell the rascally pirates (played by the boys), with the help of her sister, who happened to be her twin. Twin or not, Portia was eleven minutes older than Emily, and liked to think that those eleven minutes were very important.

All the parents had gathered in the courtyard, ready to watch the play. Four mamas sat together, laughing, wearing gowns of strawberry pink and pale green. Portia's papa was leaning against the wall, talking to his father, who used to be a pirate, but was now an earl. There was a lot of champagne being poured.

She clapped her hands, but she couldn't get her audience to settle down until her father finally barked at them.

The play opened with Edmond, who, at two and a half years old, was as fat as a pigeon, and had rather a waddle. Portia knew it was just his nappy, but even so, she was glad that he was her cousin and not her brother. Edmond was supposed to start the rebellion by shooting an arrow at the queen, but of course they couldn't give him a real weapon. So he ended up throwing a twig in the air, then picking it up and giving it to his mother.

Portia had to explain what had just happened-an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt followed an attack on Her Majesty's Royal Navy (the entire fleet ably represented by Emily). It wasn't easy to be a playwright when her actors couldn't remember their lines or shoot arrows properly. She had grown used to narrating the story, because her audience was often unable to follow.

By the time she got around to explaining the middle of the play, her father had moved from where he was leaning against the wall and scooped up her mother. She was sitting on his lap now, leaning against his shoulder.

Her mother and father were mad for each other, which meant they kissed when they thought no one was looking. And if someone caught them, her father would laugh and tell them that his wife had saved his life. Sometimes he was talking about a pitcher of water she threw over his head, and sometimes it had to do with the time Papa was in the navy. The facts were unimportant.

It was just one of those things that papas said.

"Go on," she told the band of pirates, who were all armed with wooden daggers clenched in their teeth, or at least what teeth they had. Her cousin Cedric was missing almost all of his in front. "It's your turn. Yell and run about, but don't forget that when Emily points her rifle at you, you have to fall over and play dead."

It was a little irritating how long they each took to die, especially Cedric. Finally, she hissed at him until he stopped twitching and she was able to straighten her crown, put her foot on his stomach, and shout, "Huzzah!" while Emily pranced about with her sword in the air.

Everyone clapped in a very satisfactory fashion, even though Emily had forgotten a couple of lines of her victory speech, which made Portia cross. She had written the whole piece in iambic pentameter, which they learned all about in the spring by studying Shakespeare, and that wasn't easy.

Since she meant to be a writer someday, she knew it was important to master these things. Later that night, in the nursery, she pointed out that Emily could have tried harder.

"You're a despot," Emily said, looking up from her book and scowling at her.

"I'm an enlightened despot," Portia retorted. She had just learned that term, and she rather liked it. "Why do you think that all the fathers fell about laughing when Cedric said he was a warrior?" she asked. "I didn't think it was so funny."

"They were drunk, that's what Nanny said."

"Papa was not drunk!"

"Not Papa," Emily said with a shrug. "But the other uncles. And maybe Grandpa, too."

"Which one?"

"The duke," Emily said. "He was laughing very hard, and then he gave the d.u.c.h.ess a kiss on her ear-I saw him. That's not the way that dukes are supposed to behave."