“Rand,” she whispered.
His gaze flicked over to his father, then her mother, and finally Rose standing at the bottom of Trentingham’s wide staircase. He stepped forward to take Lily’s hand.
“Come,” he said, “I feel a need to take a run.” He glanced at her fashionable heeled shoes. “I mean a walk.”
That old, rude habit, but Lily didn’t care, so long as he wanted her with him this time. Her mother and the marquess would do fine—Rand’s father might be on the curmudgeonly side, but Mum had never met a man she couldn’t wrap around her finger.
Without saying a word, Rand hurried her through the house, out the back into the gardens, and along the paths to the summerhouse. He dropped her hand long enough to shut the door behind them, enclosing them in the cool dimness of the small, round brick building. Then he turned and gathered her into his arms.
“Rand, how did you convince—”
“Hush,” he said as his mouth crushed down on hers.
She was hushed, very effectively, by a kiss so intense it rattled her to her toes. His lips slanted over hers again and again until she couldn’t remember where his mouth stopped and hers started, until her knees were so weak she needed his arms to hold her up.
“When can we marry?” he asked, dropping little kisses on her nose, her cheeks, her chin. “When? Today?”
“No.” She laughed, rising on her toes to allow him better access. He felt so very good—especially knowing that finally, miraculously, he was going to be hers.
“Tomorrow?” he asked, his lips dancing over her skin, slow and sweet.
“Not tomorrow.”
“The next day, then. Or the day after that. Saturday. A perfect day for a wedding.”
“No.” She shivered, and not only from the sensual assault. “You and Margery were supposed to marry on Saturday.”
“Her birthday. The day she’ll wed Bennett Armstrong.” His hand moved to cup her cheek.
“Oh,” she breathed, ”they must be so happy.”
“Mmm.” His agreement was muffled by his lips taking hers. “Margery will want us at her wedding,” he murmured against her mouth. “So ours will have to be the day after that.”
“No.” Pulling back, she laughed again. “Two weeks. When Violet and Ford wished to marry in a rush, Mum insisted on two weeks to plan the wedding.”
“Two weeks?” he said on a groan. “After all we’ve gone through, two more weeks seems a lifetime.”
She smiled softly, basking in the candid sentiment. “Two weeks is entirely survivable—as long as nothing else gets in our way.” But it didn’t seem real. “Even so, I don’t think I’ll believe this is happening until we’re married. Until you’re mine, heart, body, and soul, and no one can threaten otherwise.”
The adoration in his eyes transformed to steel. “Nothing can endanger us, Lily. Nothing. We’ve survived a nightmare, and there is nothing I will allow to come between us.”
“I know,” she said. And she did. After too many hours and days when she’d thought he was lost to her, the agony was finally at an end. All would be well. She knew that.
She just couldn’t quite believe it.
“Nothing,” he repeated, that piercing gray gaze clearly seeing through her as usual. His hands came up to grip her shoulders. ”Fate may send us dragons, but I’ll slay them for you, fair Lily. Nothing will steal you from my side.”
Watching her closely, he pulled something from his pocket.
His mother’s pendant, on a delicate white gold chain.
“I’ve learned that my father gave this to my mother on their wedding day. I was planning to save it for our own wedding day, but I want you to have it now.”
“Oh, Rand.”
If this wasn’t proof that he was certain they’d stay together, she didn’t know what was. She heard beautiful music in her head as he clasped the chain around her neck. Looking down, she lifted the necklace, admiring all the diamonds and the beautiful enameled filigree design.
Her throat closed with emotion. “I’ll cherish it always,” she whispered.
It was all she could manage.
“Come, let’s walk,” he said, steering her out of the summerhouse with a hand at her back. “Perhaps if I tell you how this all came about, it will begin to feel more real.”
They strolled across the wide lawn and over the bridge and along the Thames. As his story poured out, Lily held on to his hand, reminding herself that he was truly here.
“You were brilliant,” she said when he’d told her everything.
“I was desperate.” He squeezed her hand and smiled.
“And how has your father taken it?”
“We spent over an hour riding here—maybe the longest time alone together ever. He expressed regret that he’d never seen Alban for who he was. He seems…repentant.”
“You like him more than you thought.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say like. We’ve a long history between us. But the idea of living with him isn’t nearly as abhorrent as I would have thought last month.”
Lily hugged that small victory to herself. It seemed there was hope for the Nesbitt family, after all.
“Will we have to? Live with him, I mean?”
He seemed surprised by the question. “Do you imagine we have a choice? He’s certainly assuming we will. Hawkridge will someday be mine, and I’ve a lot to learn about handling it.”
“But you, Professor Nesbitt, can handle anything you put your mind to. Your father has years left to live. Why should you give up the life you love now?”
He looked as though he wanted to believe her—but couldn’t. “It’s a matter of responsibility. Once I would have agreed with you, but now that I’ve been home…well, there’s Margery—”
“Margery will be at Armstrong House.”
“There’s Etta and all the others. They’re depending on me, and I cannot let them down. Oxford…” His voice turned wistful for a moment before he straightened his shoulders, his hand gripping hers tighter. “This is the way it must be.”
“But your research, your house.”
“There’s nothing for
