“Divide it into rooms?” He stopped setting up the picnic in order to eye the small area. “They must have been minuscule.”
“When you’re tiny, even little spaces feel large.” Her grin widened, but she looked awkward, tracing the scars on the back of her hand as though she didn’t quite know what to do with herself.
“Come and sit by me,” he said, drawing her down beside him on the pallet. She tucked her legs beneath her, her movements graceful as a swan.
Lady Trentingham had neglected to supply any tableware, so he broke an apple slice in two and fed half to Lily, enjoying the way her eyes widened as his fingers brushed her mouth. “It sounds as though you had a happy childhood here at Trentingham.”
“I did.” She swallowed, concern darkening her eyes. “Was there no happiness in your childhood at all?”
“Oh, yes, until I was six. Then my mother died and my father changed. Or maybe he’d been that way all along, but I hadn’t noticed. Mother had always been there for me, perhaps taking my part…I was young…I don’t remember.” He shook his head. “I remember only how it felt after she was gone.”
“Lonely,” Lily said softly.
He nodded, thinking that loneliness was a feeling he’d carried with him for far too long. But now, with her, it was gone. “I don’t feel lonely now.”
Her smile was a little bit sad. “Do you never see them, then?” she asked. “Your father and your brother? Or hear from them? Ever?”
“Not in the last eight years.” He’d thought that if he forgot about them the anger would disappear, but there were others at Hawkridge he’d done an all-too-good job of ignoring as well. Like his endearing foster sister, who had followed him around with hero worship in her eyes. “But my father has a ward, a girl named Margery Maybanks who was brought to our home as an infant. She writes to me sometimes.”
Not nearly often enough, and he missed her. Of course, that was his fault. Reading news of his family made ripples in the nice calm life he’d made for himself—so much so that he often went months before answering Margery’s letters.
“Does she tell them about you, then? Does your father know you’re now a professor?”
“Oh, he knows. According to Margery, he said that just went to prove I never belonged in his privileged world.”
Her heart leapt into her eyes. “I cannot imagine what it would be like if my parents weren’t proud of my accomplishments. And my sisters and brother, too. That’s what family is all about, why we need them around us.”
“I’ve done all right without family.”
“Because you didn’t have one,” she said stoutly. “But you will now.”
Rand’s throat seemed to tighten. Her support meant the world to him. Although he’d decided long ago that his father and brother could go to the devil, he’d never realized how important it was to have someone who cared.
Lily crumbled some bread for the bird and the squirrel and broke up some cheese for the cat. “I thought you’d be deathly ill today. I was certain you’d send your regrets, and here you are, all recovered it seems.”
“I’m surprised I fell ill at all. You’ll find I’m of a strong constitution—perhaps it’s all the running.”
Rand watched warily as the animals came closer to claim their portions. When Beatrix climbed right over him, Lily laughed.
“How is Rose doing?” he asked, pouring more champagne. He dropped a strawberry into Lily’s. Watching the drink fizz, he remembered the first time he’d tried this new beverage, at Ford and Violet’s wedding.
Lily sobered and took a big gulp of the bubbly wine. “Rose is very angry with me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Violet told Ford you’d never consent to wed me, for fear of hurting your sister.” He raised his goblet in a toast. “I’m glad she was wrong.”
They drank, solemnly, gazing at each other over the goblets’ rims—and Rand’s heart seemed to swell with unaccustomed emotion. Setting down both their goblets, he gathered Lily into his arms.
She surprised him by pressing her lips to his in a kiss both sweet and seductive. He wondered if he’d ever get used to her coming to him for kisses. His heart melted as he kissed her back, thanking the Fates for sending her to him.
Rain pattered on the roof far above. “I love you,” she said quietly.
“I know,” he returned, his voice filled with husky wonder. Until now, he’d never realized that love could make him whole. Never realized a part of him had been missing.
She filled that gap, making him complete. And now he wanted to show her how very grateful he was that she’d come into his life to make that incredible difference.
He shrugged out of his surcoat before easing her back on the pallet, snuggling his body over hers. When he kissed her again, she released a blissful sigh. He kissed her mouth and her forehead and her throat, trailing his lips over her soft, fragrant skin. The scent of lilies. For the past few weeks, just a whiff of that scent had sent his pulse to racing, and now he could hardly fathom that he was here all alone in a summerhouse with his sweet Lily.
Well, nearly alone. Midkiss, he cracked open an eye to find three creatures watching. As though daring him, Lady pecked at more bread and then took flight, landing right on his head.
He jerked up, breaking the kiss and sending the bird fluttering to a bench. “Do you think we could put them outside?”
“Hmm?” Lily’s lids fluttered open, the blue of her eyes hazy, dreamy.
“Your animals.” He swept them with an uneasy glance. “Could we just…lock them outside for a while?”
She blinked. “It’s raining. They’ll get wet.”
“They’re animals, for heaven’s sake. So what if they get wet?” But she looked determined, so
