Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 06] - The Noblest Frailty (44 page)

She at once wiped fiercely at her flowing eyes. Devenish
groped for and offered his handkerchief. Josie dragged it across her
face, blew her nose stridently, and tucked the handkerchief into the
front of his jacket. It was quite soggy, but he gave no sign of his
inner dubiety. "That's better." He smiled. "Now"—he slapped the reins
against the neck of the mare and started her towards the waiting
carriage, Molly-My-Lass following amiably—"am I to understand then,
that you are willing to be a dutiful and obedient daughter, brightening
my declining years, and caring for me in my dotage?"

Josie gave a watery giggle.

"I see." He fought against looking back as they started down
the hill. "In that case, we shall have to arrive at an understanding,
my elf."

She peeped at him, uncertainly.

"I will have no more popping off at the least little whim to
consort with drunken rogues," he adjured.

Josie chortled.

'To say nothing," he went on, "of going about putting bears
into the toolsheds of respectable farmers."

She snuggled against him. "Oh, Mr. Dev," she sighed,
blissfully aware that Steep Drummond was now safely out of sight. "What
a complete hand you are."

'That is
precisely
the sort of remark
you must not repeat!" he groaned. "Now—pay heed to your papa, child, if
you please…"

On they went, Devenish speaking with grave earnestness, and
the child's piping laugh threading through his remarks like
quicksilver. Now, whether it was because of the infectious happiness in
that youthful laughter, or because, in seeking to lead Josie from
sorrow, Devenish briefly forgot his own woes, who shall say? Certain it
is that the sharpness of his anguish eased a trifle, and despair's dark
shadow began to lift from his heart. After a while, he restored the
child to her own saddle. They resumed their journey then, travelling
side by side through the brilliant morning, towards England, and home,
and whatever the future had in store for them in that bright promise
that is called—tomorrow.

Major Craig Tyndale ushered his lady up the deep steps of the
castle. "We've done very little as yet," he said with a trace of
anxiety. "I hope you'll not be disappointed, Yolande."

"No, but how could I be? This is to be my home. I've been so
anxious to see it ever since you and Uncle Alastair began the work."

"And I have longed to bring you these whole ten days. It was
very kind of your papa to let you come."

"And even kinder of him to travel up here. But, now that we
are officially betrothed, it is not very shocking for me to be here
alone with you—is it?"

He smiled down into her face, so enchantingly framed by the
pink ruffles of the dainty bonnet she wore. "A little, perhaps, but
Laing is with us, after all."

He threw open the heavy door, revealing the majestic sweep of
the Great Hall, gleaming with fresh paint, brightened by rich carpets,
and mellowed by the careful placement of fine furniture. Watching his
love with no little anxiety, he said, "It is rather isolated, I
daresay, but we'll only spend the summer here, you know. I thought we
would purchase a house in Town for the Season, if you should care to.
And you will wish to spend time with your parents of course."

"And you will want to take me to see your home in Canada—no?"

"You would not object?" he asked eagerly. "It would be a long,
tiresome journey, but I thought perhaps, if we should be—er, that
is—when we have set up our—our nursery, perhaps you might be willing to
go."

"Foolish, foolish man." Yolande looked up at him, her eyes
soft with love. "I can see that you have done beautifully with Castle
Tyndale, and I shall enjoy being here with you. Or in Town—with you. Or
on the high seas—with you. Oh, Craig—my very dearest love… do you not
yet know? My happiness lies not in
where
we
are—only that we are… together."

Mr. Laing, checking the chestnut mare's harness, shook his
head bodingly. "Did you see that, Heather?" he enquired. "Picked her up
in his arms and carried her across the threshold like they was already
wed! Shocking! These young people today have no least notion of how to
go on!"

He was quite mistaken. Standing in the Great Hall, a slender
girl clasped against him, her arms about his neck, and his lips pressed
crushingly to hers, Major Craig Winters Tyndale knew exactly how to go
on.