He stood and helped her to her feet. Then he halted, his gaze going past her to the sky outside. The rain had stopped and arcing through the heavens was a rainbow, as transcendently beautiful as Catherine herself.
He stared at it, and in a single instant the alienated fragments of his spirit fell into place. In a world that contained rainbows and kittens and friends like Nicholas, why was it so hard to believe that with Catherine he could find love? At the very core of his being, he felt a slowly blossoming peace unlike anything he had ever known.
He put his hands on Catherine's shoulders as she studied him with searching aqua eyes. "I always thought of my kaleidoscope as holding shattered rainbows and broken dreams," he said quietly. "Looking inside it was a way of seeking order out of chaos. But I don't need that anymore. Look."
She followed his glance out the window. The rainbow still shimmered, heaven's promise to the earth. He continued, "It's you who brings order into my life, Catherine. Order, and love."
"Then it appears that we love each other. How simple, and how right." Her eyes filled with joy, she raised her face and kissed him. It was not an embrace of raging lust or desperation. Instead, it simply was, an interval of peace and gentle communion such as they had not had a chance to experience in the turbulence of the past days.
With peace came exhaustion. He released her, saying, "Now, my dear, let's go to bed and sleep for a day or two."
Her smile turned mischievous. "And we're finally sleeping together legally."
"A pity I'm too tired to behave like a bridegroom."
"There will be time enough for that later." She covered a yawn, then began stripping off her clothing.
He did the same, moving by rote because he was unable to take his eyes from her. She had always been lovely beyond belief, but now she was his wife. His wife. She raised her arm to push back her hair, exposing the faint transfusion scar on the inside of her elbow. He felt a wave of tenderness that began in his heart and swiftly expanded to suffuse through his whole body. For as long as he lived, the gift of life she had given would be part of him.
She slid under the bedcovers, giving him a quizzical glance to see why he was delaying. He smiled wryly. "Do you know, I may not be quite as tired as I thought."
She reached out one hand, her smile rainbow-radiant. "Then come to bed, my love, and we'll find out."
Epilogue
Isle of Skoal
Spring 1817
The christening had gone off with considerable decorum. Louis the Lazy attended, but he was a very well behaved dog. Even the guest of honor had given only one small, startled squawk when cold water was dripped on his head. The party that followed, however, was best described as a roaring good time.
Since the day was warm, Catherine sat in the shade with several of the other women. The newly christened Nicholas Stephen Torquil Kenyon was passed from lap to lap, reveling in the attention. On the far side of the garden, a casual game of cricket was being played on the smooth emerald lawn. Nearer to hand, a baby corral had been set up for the smaller children.
Clare shaded her eyes with one hand. "Catherine, that daughter of yours is dangerous with a ball in her hand. If Oxford took women, they'd recruit her for their cricket team."
Catherine laughed. "Amy's game isn't hurt by the fact that the umpire is her great-grandfather and he looks ready to whack his cane over anyone who fails to appreciate her." It was amazing how well the laird had recovered. The wheelchair was a thing of the past, and he got around beautifully with only a slight limp. Publicly acknowledging Davin as his grandson and heir had given the laird a new lease on life…
Catherine continued, "I've never seen a cricket match with so many peers and peeresses playing."
Clare chuckled and patted her rounded stomach. "I'm glad I've got a good excuse not to play. Kit and Margot are both far more athletic than I."
The next batsman was Kit Fairchild, the slender brunette whom Catherine had once seen in the park with Michael. She stepped up to the wicket and swung her bat menacingly. The bowler was her husband, Lucien. With a gentlemanly desire to avoid damaging his wife, he gave the ball a soft toss. For his pains he was forced to duck swiftly when Kit blasted the ball to the far end of the garden. Four runs were scored before Davin Penrose managed to catch the ball and hurl it back.
Lady Elinor Fairchild, two years old and blond as a sunbeam, gave a crow of delight and headed for her mother with impressive speed. As dark as she was blond, Kenrick Davies, Viscount Tregar, set out after her. At two and a half, he was in the throes of his first love affair, with Elinor the object of his adoration.
Scenting excitement, Louis the Lazy lurched to his feet and went galumphing after the children. The ball flew over his head. To the shock of everyone present, he uncharacteristically leaped into the air, ears flying, and caught the speeding cricket ball. Amid general laughter, it was agreed that it was time to take a break and sample the refreshments that were being laid out on tables. As Rafe pointed out, it would give the ball time to dry out.
Clare rose and went to collect her husband and son, who were rolling around in the grass together. There couldn't be another earl in England as easygoing as Nicholas. Catherine was delighted to have her son named after him. Living across the valley from Clare and Nicholas was one of the loveliest benefits of her marriage.
Michael abandoned his fielding position and went against the hungry crowd to join Catherine, who had stayed lazily in her chair, her baby in her lap. She watched her husband approach with pure pleasure. Even after a year of marriage, she was not tired of admiring his face, or the powerful body that she knew so well. The thought made her face warm.
Michael grinned. "Having unsaintly thoughts, my dear?"
She glanced around. Luckily no one else was within earshot. "You know me too well."
"Never that." He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then on their son's, before settling on the grass beside her chair. "Your suggestion of having the christening here was brilliant. Skoal is a perfect place for a spring holiday."
"A pity that Kenneth couldn't come, but it's lovely that so many of your other friends are here." Catherine's gaze went to dark Rafe and golden Margot, who were retrieving their nine-month-old son. The infant marquess, as dark as his father, waved his hands and gurgled cheerfully when his mother scooped him up.
"You Fallen Angels have a very handsome lot of babies," she observed. "I wonder if the children will be as good friends as their fathers are."
Michael smiled at the sight of Kenrick and Elinor, who were stickily sharing an ice under the indulgent supervision of their mothers. "I'm sure the next generation will be friends, but they won't need each other as much as their fathers did."
She stroked her hand through her husband's hair. Thank God for the Fallen Angels, and for the friendship that had helped them become the remarkable men they were. Most of all, thank God for Michael, who gave her more love and tenderness than she had known existed. "Do you remember our first evening on Skoal, when you woke me up to go down to dinner?"
He gave her a wicked glance. "How could I forget? It was all I could do to prevent myself from making a meal of you."
Her cheeks burned again. "You woke me out of the most wonderful dream."
Michael made an encouraging noise.
"I dreamed that I was normal, that you were my husband, and that we were expecting our first child." She bent forward and kissed Michael with the love that grew greater with every day they spent together. "Who says that dreams can't come true?"
Historical Note