Lorraine Heath - [Lost Lords of Pembrook 03] (32 page)

Epilogue

Pembrook Castle, Yorkshire

Winter 1864

T
onight was the night they were to have died. Instead, they would make love to their wives.

But for now, in the late wintry afternoon, they sat upon their horses, at the top of the rise, looking down on Pembrook Castle. From their vantage point, they could see the remnants of the tower that had served as their prison so many years before. Sebastian had been slowly tearing it down, his sledgehammer against one brick at a time.

“Difficult to believe it’s been twenty years,” Tristan said.

“I should hire men to raze it completely, get it done,” Sebastian said.

“I think you should leave it as it is,” Tristan replied.

“What of you, Rafe?” Sebastian asked. “What do you think I should do with it?”

“Rebuild it, make it grander than it was.” He thought it a symbolic gesture, but feared he’d come off as a fool if he explained how Uncle had torn
them
down, reduced them to their bare souls, and that each of them had survived and built themselves up into something—someone—better than they might have been otherwise. So he said instead, “You’ll be around for a good long while. Your heir will need someplace to reside before he inherits the title.”

“You might be right. He seems to fancy the place. I’m always finding him exploring it. Perhaps that’s what I’ll do. Don’t suppose I need to decide today. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Unlike us,” Tristan said. “I suppose we need to return to the manor. I’ve heard your wife has prepared quite the feast to celebrate the night she rescued us.”

“She rescued me twice, once from the tower, and once from myself.”

Rafe felt as though he were still being rescued, every morning when he awoke to find Eve in his bed. It always amazed and humbled him to find her still there, still in his arms, smiling at him, making him laugh, giving him sons—two so far. She told him that the next time she was giving birth to a daughter. He suspected she would. She had a habit of achieving what she set her mind to do.

Using the house she’d obtained from Wortham, she had established a sanctuary for women who had no one, no place for refuge. She saw that they were taught skills, and found them gainful respectable employment. She had convinced him that the women who worked for him should manage his games rather than mattresses. It had created quite a stir the first time a woman had sat down to deal cards at one of his tables. But over the years his memberships had doubled; his earnings had tripled. Seemed a gent paid little attention to how much he was losing when he was receiving smiles and encouragement from a woman.

His brothers were as quiet as he, and he wondered the paths their thoughts traveled. He had yet to tell them that he loved him. He couldn’t voice the words, but Eve assured him they knew. He attended all their little gatherings, had been out on Tristan’s yacht so many times that he no longer dealt with illness when on board. He and his family were always here for Christmas.

He thought if his father knew that, he’d be pleased.

“We’d best get back,” Sebastian said. “They’ll be waiting for us.”

Without hesitation, they wheeled their mounts around as one and galloped down the rise toward the manor. Rafe could see the three women waiting on the front lawn, in spite of the cold. Then his gaze homed in on the one he loved more than life itself.

Her smile was bright, her hand raised in greeting.

His horse had barely slowed when he dismounted, took her into his arms, and kissed her deeply as she wound herself securely around him. He might have been self-conscious if he hadn’t known his brothers were greeting their wives in the same manner. No, he thought. He wouldn’t have given a damn what they were doing. He was too glad for her welcome, yearned too much for her touch.

Sweeping her up into his arms, he began striding toward the manor.

She laughed. “What are you doing?”

“We have a bit of time before dinner. Want you to myself for a while.”

She settled her head against his shoulder. “I love you, Lord Rafe Easton.”

“Not as much as I love you, Lady Eve.”

When she began nibbling on his ear, he laughed. Such a wicked woman. He intended to make love to her before dinner, then after. He would never have enough of her.

For a moment in his mind, all the globes he’d collected over the years spun. More than a hundred, spinning, spinning. He’d been searching for someplace better than where he was.

He’d finally found it, the best place of all—wrapped tightly in Eve’s arms.

About the Author

LORRAINE HEATH always dreamed of being a writer. After graduating from the University of Texas, she wrote training manuals, press releases for a publicist, articles, and computer code, but something was always missing. In 1990, she read a romance novel and not only became hooked on the genre, but quickly realized what her writing lacked: rebels, scoundrels, and rogues. She’s been writing about them ever since. Her work has been recognized with numerous industry awards, including RWA’s RITA®, a HOLT Medallion, and a
Romantic Times
Career Achievement Award. Her novels have appeared on the
USA Today
and
New York Times
bestseller lists.

www.lorraineheath.com

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Romances by Lorraine Heath

L
ORD OF
W
ICKED
I
NTENTIONS

L
ORD OF
T
EMPTATION

S
HE
T
EMPTS THE
D
UKE

W
AKING UP
W
ITH THE
D
UKE

P
LEASURES OF A
N
OTORIOUS
G
ENTLEMAN

P
ASSIONS OF A
W
ICKED
E
ARL

M
IDNIGHT
P
LEASURES WITH A
S
COUNDREL

S
URRENDER TO THE
D
EVIL

B
ETWEEN THE
D
EVIL AND
D
ESIRE

I
N
B
ED WITH THE
D
EVIL

J
UST
W
ICKED
E
NOUGH

A
D
UKE OF
H
ER
O
WN

P
ROMISE
M
E
F
OREVER

A
M
ATTER OF
T
EMPTATION

A
S AN
E
ARL
D
ESIRES

A
N
I
NVITATION TO
S
EDUCTION

L
OVE WITH A
S
CANDALOUS
L
ORD

T
O
M
ARRY AN
H
EIRESS

T
HE
O
UTLAW AND THE
L
ADY

N
EVER
M
ARRY A
C
OWBOY

N
EVER
L
OVE A
C
OWBOY

A
R
OGUE IN
T
EXAS