Samantha James (25 page)

They were married one year ago today
.

It still sent a shiver down Olivia’s spine whenever she thought of her wedding day, for it was a day she would never forget. The sun was shining and warm, the skies gloriously bright. Dominic had suggested a private ceremony in the gardens at Ravenwood, but Olivia couldn’t imagine being married anywhere but the lovely little stone church in Stonebridge where her father had been vicar.

“
Olivia
,” he had said gently, “
I know there are many in the village who care for you dearly, but remember, you will be marrying an outsider, my love—a Gypsy. I would not have you hurt because few might choose to attend
.”

Olivia would not be dissuaded. “
Then I will count the loss as theirs, not ours
,” she said simply. “
I love you, Dominic St. Bride, and I am not ashamed of that love, nor of you
.”

And so they had been married by Reverend Holden in the church in the village, with flowers strewn everywhere, their sweet scent perfuming the air.

Dominic’s fears were groundless.

The pews were jammed to overflowing. People
crowded everywhere, and there were even well-wishers who stood crammed in the entrance. Every one of the villagers was in attendance, except one…

William Dunsport.

William had left for London a week earlier—a permanent move, Olivia had learned from his mother. No, there was nothing to mar their joy, no reminders of the past—even Robert Gilmore was gone. Sadly, he’d died of apoplexy the day after he’d been caught and jailed.

A gurgle at her breast brought Olivia back to the present. Her son’s mouth fell away from her nipple. Trevor Michael St. Bride grinned up at her, waving a plump, tiny fist.

Olivia adjusted her gown, then carried him to the window, with Lucifer padding along behind. Cradling Trevor in her elbow, she gazed out into the distance where evening’s purple haze had begun to shadow the sky. She pointed toward a brick home that stood behind a stand of stately birch trees.

“Look there, Trevor, on the far side of the pasture. There is your Aunt Emily’s and Uncle Andre’s house. You know, the one your papa had built for them as a wedding present. He’s really quite generous, your dear papa.”

Trevor gazed at her as if he understood every word, his eyes as breathtakingly blue as his father’s. His hair was lighter than Dominic’s, yet darker than her own golden tresses. He really was a sweet-natured babe—though a bit feisty at times when it came to napping.

“Did you know you’ll soon have a cousin? Ah, yes, Trevor, your Aunt Emily is due to deliver any
day now, and not a moment too soon as far as she’s concerned.”

Trevor blew out a milky bubble. He started when the bubble popped, but he didn’t cry. Olivia laughed softly.

“That’s where your papa is, you know, helping your Uncle Andre deliver Guinevere’s foal—though I don’t know what good he’ll be. He wasn’t very helpful when you were born, Trevor. I was the one doing all the work, you know, though by the time you finally made your appearance in the world, I daresay he looked as ghastly as I surely did.”

“So your true opinion of me finally comes out,” said a voice near her ear. A pair of hard arms slid around her waist, encompassing both mother and child. “I fear I shall have to look elsewhere for a wife who finds me pleasing.”

Olivia turned in his embrace. “Don’t you dare,” she teased, “else I shall look elsewhere for a husband.”

“Well then, I must simply strive to please harder, it seems. How may I serve you, countess?”

Olivia wordlessly lifted her face. Dominic partook of those sweetly upturned lips until the child between them let out a loud squall, reminding them both of his presence.

Dominic took Trevor from her arms, pressing a kiss upon his scalp. He laid him against his shoulder, one big hand rubbing circles on his back as he began to walk back and forth across the length of their chamber.

Within minutes the babe was fast asleep.

Olivia frowned at her husband good-naturedly
from her chair near the fireplace. “How is it that you can get him to sleep so easily?”

He bent and dropped a kiss on her nose. “Just so I don’t put
you
to sleep.” He left, heading for the nursery across the hall.

By the time he returned, several servants had finished delivering an array of silver dishes to their chamber—including a bottle of champagne.

A smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “What is this? Are we celebrating?”

Olivia thumped him in the chest. “Cad,” she accused without heat.

They ate their meal there on the carpet before the hearth. Tonight there was no formality, just the two of them. Olivia queried him about the birth of Guinevere’s foal.

Dominic reached for a slice of roast pheasant. “Oh, you should see him, Olivia. He’s a beauty, sleek and black. Andre swears he’ll be a champion racehorse—and he’s probably right.”

When Emily and Andre had married, it was Dominic who had suggested that Andre do what he did best—work with horses. Though it had required a bit of talking to convince Andre to swallow his pride and let Dominic stake him in the venture, Andre was willing to try. He’d decided to concentrate on breeding and training racehorses, and Guinevere’s colt was the first of his mating attempts.

Olivia wiped her fingers. “So you think Andre’s doing well? And people will take him seriously?”

Though Andre had shed his bright Gypsy’s clothing for breeches and boots, they were all
aware he’d never be comfortable in coat and cravat; it was Dominic who had acted as middleman in several lucrative transactions for him.

Dominic cocked a brow. “Without a doubt. The Duke of Hanford is interested in this colt, so I think they’ll be eating quite well for some time to come.”

Olivia nodded. She couldn’t have been more pleased. While Dominic finished off the last of his meal, Olivia moved to stand near the open window.

By now it had grown dark outside. Just above the horizon, a full moon had begun its ascent in the sapphire sky.

She couldn’t help but marvel at how things had changed since they’d met. Emily was no longer blind. She and Andre were together. Dominic was no longer a bitter, tormented man who didn’t know where he belonged…

He came up behind her and turned her around to face him. Taking possession of both her hands, he gazed down at her. “Do you have any idea how happy you make me, Olivia St. Bride?” His tone was light, but his expression was utterly serious.

“As happy as you make me, Dominic St. Bride.” Her answer came without hesitation. Even as she spoke, a shiver of delight coursed through her. She had awoken one night not long after they were married to find him propped on his elbow, staring at her. When she chided him, he merely smiled.

“
I do this every night
,” he confessed.

“
Every night?
” Olivia was aghast. “
Whatever for?
”

His smile faded. When he spoke, his tone was very quiet, yet utterly intense. “
I lay beside you at
night, and I feel humble—humble and proud and so damned lucky. Olivia, I’m not certain I can describe it, but…when I’m with you, it’s as if there’s this tremendous light inside me. I didn’t know what it was at first. I was even rather afraid, because I’d never felt it before
.”

Gently she touched his cheek. “
And what is it?
”

“
Love and hope and…and happiness. I didn’t recognize it because I—I’d never been happy before…Never—
” His voice vibrated with the depth of his feelings. “
—until now
.”

Olivia was moved to tears by his confession. Indeed, she had only to remember it now and her vision grew misty.

No, there were no shadows in the eyes that lingered upon her. Nothing but love—a love she returned in full measure and more.

Pulling her back before the hearth, Dominic poured champagne into two crystal glasses. He handed one to her, then took the other for himself.

“Do you remember the night we met, sweet?”

Olivia bit back a laugh. “How could I forget? I was convinced Lucifer was about to make me his next meal!” Lucifer was no longer in the room. As usual, he’d taken up his nighttime post outside the nursery.

Dominic’s laugh was low and husky. “I remember it as if it were yesterday. Indeed, it seems like we were married only yesterday. It hardly seems a year.” He paused, then eyed his glass. “I think a toast is in order, love. Shall we say…to the next wonderful year?”

Olivia shook her head.

“What then? To us?”

Again she shook her head.

Dominic sighed. “Of course not. I know, sweet. Of course it could only be one thing…Let’s start again.” He raised his glass high.

“Wait,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. Her eyes sparkling, she let the rim of her glass touch his. “To fate…and one moonlit night…”