willed this place to me.”
She tilted her head, studied him in return. “Why did we come here?”
Simon pushed away from the doorjamb, walked toward her. “I was on my way here all along-I stopped at the house party on the way.”
Halting beside her, he took her hand, drew her around to face the long view over the lawns to the gatehouse. “I told you-I hadn’t been here for years. My memories of it… I didn’t know how accurate they were. I wanted to confirm it was as I remembered-a house that calls for a wife and family.”
He glanced at her as she glanced at him. “I was right. It does. It’s a house that’s supposed to be a home.”
She held his gaze. “Indeed. And what were you planning to do once you’d confirmed your recollection?”
His lips lifted. “Why, find myself a wife”-he raised her hand to his lips, kept his eyes on hers-“and start a family.”
She blinked. “Oh.” Blinked again, looked out over the lawns.
He closed his hand about hers. “What is it?”
A moment passed, then she said, “You remember when you found me at the lookout, and I vowed I would consider every eligible gentleman… the reason I’d decided to do so was that I’d realized I wanted to have children of my own-a family of my own. To do that, I needed a husband.”
Her lips twisted; she looked at him. “Of course, by that I meant a suitable gentleman who would fall in with my wishes and allow me to rule our joint lives.”
“No doubt.” His tone was acerbic. When she said nothing more but continued to watch him, as if studying him, assessing him anew, he softly asked, “Is that why you’re marrying me?”
She hadn’t said she would, yet both knew it, a given-an understanding already acknowledged, albeit not in words. Her dark eyes sparked, registering his tack, then they softened. Her lips curved.
“Lady O is really quite amazing.”
He’d lost the thread. “How so?”
“She informed me that wanting children, while a perfectly acceptable reason to bring one to consider marriage, was not of itself a sufficiently good reason to marry. However, she assured me that if I kept looking-considering gentlemen to marry-the right reason would eventually present itself.”
He twined his fingers with hers. “And has it?”
She met his eyes, her smile serene. “Yes. I love you, and you love me. Lady O is, as always, right-no other reason will do.”
He drew her into his arms, felt their bodies react the instant they touched, not just sexually but with a deeper, more comforting familiarity. He gloried in the feeling, gloried in her as she draped her arms over his shoulders, as between his hands, he felt her supple strength, in her dark eyes saw an intellect every bit the equal of his. “It won’t be easy.”
“Assuredly not-I refuse to promise to be a comfortable wife.”
His lips twitched. “You’re quite comfortable enough-‘obedient’ is the word you want, or ‘acquiescent’-you’ve never been either.”
“Nonsense-I am when it suits me.”
“Therein lies the rub.”
“I’m not going to change.”
He looked into her eyes. “I don’t want you to. If you can accept that I’m similiarly unlikely to change, we can go on from there.”
Portia smiled. Theirs would not be the marriage she’d wanted; it would be the marriage she needed. “Despite all prior experience, we’ve managed remarkably well so far. If we try, do you think we could make this last a lifetime?”
“With both of us trying, it’ll last.” He paused, then added, “We have the right reasons, after all.”
“Indubitably.” She drew his lips to hers. “I’m starting to believe that love can indeed conqueror all.”
He paused, their lips separated by a breath. “Even us?”
She made a frustrated sound. “You, me-
Simon smiled. And did.
He’d reached the end of his journey and found all he’d been seeking; in her arms, he’d found his true goal.
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