The Wayward One (The De Montforte Brothers Book 5) (47 page)

She nodded in a quick, jerky little motion.

“And Lucien, you and I both know he’ll pull strings to get your name cleared. Move mountains, if he has to. He’s good at that. If anyone can do it, he—oh, damnation,” Andrew said, and moving closer to his sister, pulled her into his embrace as the mention of their eldest brother’s name caused the tears to flow once more.

“I wish I could take back what I said to him,” she said brokenly. “I can’t live like this.”

“Stop beating yourself up over it. You had good reason to be angry with him.” Andrew cleared a long fall of blonde hair from her face. “He did, after all, try to kill your husband.”

At the memory of that horrific fight, the knowledge she’d come so close to losing either or both of them, the tears came harder, so hard, in fact, that she never heard the quiet click and whoosh of the front door being opened, never heard the footfalls of two men coming into the entrance hall, didn’t feel the cold draft of air that preceded them.

Beside her, Andrew had gone still.

Even the tabby cat sleeping in Nerissa’s lap suddenly raised its head.

“Dear me. Gone only a few days and the world just falls apart,” said a smooth, urbane voice. A familiar voice.

A beloved voice.

Nerissa’s head jerked up, and through her tears she saw her brother, that adored and infuriating face, not-quite-as-self-assured as he was trying to appear, standing just within the door. Ruaidri was just behind him, smiling.

“L-Lucien?”

He stretched out his arms in invitation, his eyes begging forgiveness, and before the cat could even flee her lap, Nerissa was running across the room and throwing herself into his embrace.

“You came back,” she sobbed, burying her face against his coat, feeling his arms going around her. “I’m so sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean any of it, I was angry and scared and upset—”

“I know.” He hugged her close. “And you had good reason to be. I’m sorry, too. I was a beast.”

“Why did you come back?”

“I couldn’t leave America without saying goodbye,” he said. “And, begging your forgiveness.”

“It’s me who should be begging yours,” she said brokenly, and pulling back, looked up into his face. “Why did you come back, Lucien? Truly?”

“Ah, well, seems a certain Irishman with more sense than you and I put together decided to take matters into his own hands,” Lucien murmured, with a grateful glance over his shoulder.

“Ruaidri?” She stared at him. “But I thought you were with John Adams…you mean, you went down to New York and brought Lucien back?”

“Wasn’t easy, lass. I don’t know who’s more stubborn, you or him.”

Ruaidri crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb. Over Nerissa’s shoulder, past the duke’s tall, imposing form, he caught the eye of Lord Andrew sitting on the settee, the cat that had been in Nerissa’s lap just moments before, now nestled happily in his.

The young inventor grinned.

And Ruaidri, gazing in satisfaction as the oldest and youngest de Montforte siblings embraced and forgave, grinned back.

* * *

It was a cold and biting wind that twisted the hem of her heavy petticoats and clawed at her hair as Nerissa, her body sheltered by her husband’s big, protective one, stood on the Ashton pier and watched two of Brendan’s sailors make fast the little boat that would take Andrew and Lucien out to
Kestrel
. The turning tide had swung the schooner’s bows to face them, and soon her long, jaunty jib-boom would pivot around all the more until she faced the distant mouth of the river and the short journey down to New York that awaited her.

Her captain stood a little distance away, his blue coat edged with red and a heavy woolen scarf around his neck to try and beat the cold. His wife, her hair in a long braid down her back and covered by a knit cap, insinuated herself under his arm and watched as the farewells were said.

“We should probably get a move on, Brendan, if we want to get them down to New York. The way this parting’s going, they’ll be saying goodbye to each other well into next week.”

“Let’s give them another minute,
Stóirín
….”

“Now you make sure you write,” Nerissa was saying, gripping Andrew’s hands in her own and looking up into his eyes. “I want to know all about the next invention you take it upon yourself to create. No flying machines. No explosives.”

“I will, Nerissa.”

“And please make sure Celsie feeds you. You’ve grown thin, and I’m worried about you.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive just fine.”

Nerissa hugged him fiercely, and managed to hold her tears in check as he walked down the ramp and into the waiting boat, now bumping impatiently against the pier. She took a deep and steadying breath, and then turned, wondering if this would be the last time she would ever see her brothers.

“Lucien,” she said. “I won’t say goodbye.”

“It’s not goodbye,” he returned. “It’s farewell for now. Farewell for a while.”

“Yes,” she said, the lump rising in her throat as she saw Brendan Merrick discreetly consulting his watch a little distance away. It was time to go.

“You’ll write to me when the baby’s born,” Lucien said to her, but his gaze went to Ruaidri, enacting a silent promise.

“We’ll write,” he said, knowing his wife was choking up. “Her time will be here before ye know it.”

Lucien de Montforte wrapped his arms around his little sister and hugged her deeply for a long, loving moment. Maybe he’d find a way to get back here when the time came. Maybe he’d find a way to bring his whole family. The future held both hope and surprises. At last, he pulled himself up, discreetly knuckled his eye, and turned a gaze full of black menace on his new brother-in-law. “I’m counting on you to take care of her,” he said solemnly. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to come back here and kick the living daylights out of you.”

Ruaidri laughed and stuck out his hand as Lucien set himself away from his sister. The duke took it in his own and the two men, both so different and yet both so alike, shook warmly.

“Take care of yourself, Ruaidri O’ Devir.”

“May the saints and the good Lord himself bless and keep ye, Blackheath.”

“I think you’ve earned the right to call me Lucien.” The duke smiled, and it was a long moment before he released Ruaidri’s hand. “I’ll be back. You can depend on it.”

He turned and nodded his readiness to Captain Merrick, and a moment later, had joined Andrew in the little boat.

I’ll be back. You can depend on it.

Nerissa pushed closer to her husband, and felt his arm go around her to pull her close, steadying her as Brendan and Mira, both of them already planning their next cruise against British shipping off the coast of New York after they delivered their aristocratic passengers back into the hands of the English, joined them in the boat. A moment later, a sailor was loosening the ropes that tied it to the pier and the little craft was cutting through the cold, swirling waters of the Merrimack.

I’ll be back. You can depend on it.

“You all right, Sunshine?”

She looked up and into the beautiful, long-lashed eyes that she held so dear, the strong Celtic face with the bold black brows and wild, unruly hair that had enchanted her from the moment she’d first met him.

“I’m all right,” she said. “But it’s time to go.”

“Aye, lass. ’Twill only hurt all the more, standin’ here watchin’ ’til ye can’t see them any longer.” He bent his head and dropped a kiss against her hair. “Besides, I’ve got somethin’ to show ye.”

“Show me?”

He turned her gently, and began to walk her off the pier and back toward the street.

“Show you.”

“What is it?”

He waited until they reached the street, and then he pointed off to their left, to a gentle, wooded rise a half mile away.

“I see trees,” she said, her mind still on her brothers in that little boat behind them, and
Kestrel
beyond, waiting to take them home.

“Ye see land,” he said quietly. “Land that’s for sale. Land that I thought might look nice with a fine brick house on it overlookin’ the river and the sea beyond. Land where we’ll build our home and raise our family, Nerissa.” He smiled as she gave a little exclamation of surprise and delight. “Should we walk there and have a look at it, together?”

“Oh, Ruaidri… I would love that.”

“Let’s go, then.”

He offered her elbow and she linked her arm in his, and together, they walked away from the waterfront.

And just before they turned the corner from Fish Street onto High, Nerissa paused and looked over her shoulder, back toward the river….

At the beautiful
Kestrel
, the jib now blooming on her nose and her tall, raked masts already beginning to move as she carried her new family, and her old, toward the next chapters in their lives.

Another day for Brendan and Mira.

A new day for her brothers.

The rest of her life, for her and Ruaidri.

I’ll be back. You can depend on it.

the end

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About the Author

New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author
Danelle Harmon
has written fifteen critically acclaimed and award-winning books, with many being published all over the world and translated into numerous languages. A Massachusetts native, she has lived in Great Britain, though these days she and her English husband make their home in New England with their daughter Emma and numerous animals including four dogs, an Egyptian Arabian horse, and a flock of pet chickens. Danelle enjoys reading, spending time with family, friends and her pets, and sailing her Melonseed skiff,
Kestrel II
. She welcomes email from her readers and can be reached at
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More Books from Danelle Harmon!

Introducing:

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DE MONTFORTE BROTHERS SERIES

“The bluest of blood; the boldest of hearts;

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Meet the dashing and aristocratic De Montforte Brothers by Danelle Harmon (best read in order):

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THE WILD ONE

Lord Gareth de Montforte’s story

 
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read below for an excerpt!

____________

THE BELOVED ONE