Three Heroes (99 page)

Susan kissed him. “I’m not a fish, love. I can live away from the sea.”

“It’s five miles away.”

She looked into his eyes seriously. “I can live anywhere with you, Con. You are my world. I should have realized that long ago.”

“No dwelling on the past.” He pulled her close and they rested in one another’s arms, a lark filling the soft air with song. “If I am your world, then I will work to make your world as perfect as humanly possible. That is, and always will be, my main intent.”

“And I yours,” she replied. “We have a second chance at heaven, and will treasure it.”

Susan felt as if they said their vows then, but the next day, in a gaily decorated church full of family, friends, and neighbors, they said the traditional vows, then ran out together to be showered with grain.

When the first person greeted her as Lady Wyvern, she shared a look with Con, one that smiled at the folly of the past. It was only for a little while, anyway, and then she would become Lady Amleigh, a title that held no dark shadows or memories.

They shared their joy with everyone, but then at last they were alone together, man and wife.

Susan looked at the big bed, its sage-green coverlet strewn with petals. “Con, I have to say that I feel very strange about doing this in my aunt and uncle’s bed.”

He embraced her from behind, laughing. “I, on the other hand, am exceedingly grateful to them. I certainly had no intention of sleeping again in Crag Wyvern.”

Henry and David had moved up there to make room in the manor, and they were playing host to a number of the guests. The Delaneys were sleeping there, along with Lord Vandeimen and Mrs. Celestine, and Major Hawkinville. There were some other Rogues there, too—the Earl and Countess of Charrington, Mr. and Mrs. Miles Cavanagh, Major Beaumont, and Mr. Stephen Ball.

There had been warm messages and generous gifts from the Marquess and Marchioness of Arden and Lord and Lady Middlethorpe. Apparently both couples were awaiting a happy event.

Susan felt as if she were swimming in new and welcoming friends. It was terrifying in a way, but glorious, like swimming in the high waves.

Con nuzzled her neck. “However, if you truly don’t think it right, we can wait....”

She turned in his arms. “I could call your bluff.”

“I’d win.”

With a smile, she eased free the silk fichu that filled the low bodice of her gown. “Are you sure?” The bodice, by her design, was extremely low.

She saw his eyes darken and his lips part. Stepping back, she raised one foot on a chair and slid up her skirts to reveal a flesh-colored silk stocking embroidered with red roses. A red, rose-trimmed garter, held it up. Slowly, she undid it—

He fell to his knees beside her and took over the task. “You win.”

“I thought so.”

He looked up, laughing with her. “I am undoubtedly the happiest loser the world has ever known.”

Later, lying limply in one another’s arms, Con said, “Shame about that bath, though. There’s no room for such a thing at home. When David’s earl, we’ll have to pay him a visit.”

Susan rolled to face him. “Only when he’s done considerable renovations.” She traced the coiled dragon on his chest. “Shame about this too, but you are not the dragon, Con Somerford. You are Saint George.

My Saint George.” She had to refer to the past, though it was a past no longer able to hurt them. “I said it once, and I mean it now. My George, forever and ever.”

“Amen.” He rubbed his head gently against hers. “And I’m pleased to see that I was right,” her murmured.

“Right?”

His tongue traced slowly around the rim of her ear, making her shiver. “I always suspected that when Saint George rescued the dragon’s bride, his true reward came later, more or less like this....”