‘You’re facing the house,’ he pointed out.
‘I know. It’s my favourite view in all the world.’ The house that he had designed for himself, built for her. More beloved than any palace. Just as he was so much more than any Prince Charming. Her rock. Her partner. Her beloved husband. The father of her children. A man at peace with life, with himself.
‘Can we pitch the tent, Daddy?’
‘I want to build a den.’
‘What do you want, Lucy B?’ Nathaniel asked, taking her hand, lifting it to his lips.
‘I’ve got everything I ever wanted,’ she said. ‘How about you?’
‘I have you, Lucy. Everything else follows from that,’ he said, leaning across to kiss her.
Liz Fielding
Liz Fielding was born with itchy feet. She made it to Zambia before her twenty-first birthday and, gathering her own special hero and a couple of children on the way, lived in Botswana, Kenya and Bahrain-with pauses for sightseeing pretty much everywhere in between. She finally came to a full stop in a tiny Welsh village cradled by misty hills, and these days mostly lets her pen do the traveling. When she’s not sorting out the lives and loves of her characters she potters in the garden, reads her favorite authors and spends a lot of time wondering
