Taming the Wild Duke

Extended Epilogue

“Are you ready, Merry? Randolph is going to open the gate!” Lilian twisted in her saddle to watch as five-year-old Merry expertly brought her pony around toward the gate.

“I’m ready, Mother!” the little girl shouted. “I’ve been ready since I was four.”

Simon’s laughter interrupted the gentle reproach Lilian would have given their daughter. Lilian gave him a warning look. Seated easily atop his big, black stallion, his mane of tawny hair ruffled by the wind and his green eyes bright with humor, Simon still took her breath away in the best way possible. But now was not the time to let him know that.

“Darling, if you keep laughing at her when she is saucy, just think what she’ll be like when she’s a young woman.”

“She will be beautiful and independent and full of spirit. Just like her mother.” Simon grinned shamelessly as he circled Belshazzar around. Although the horse was older now, he still didn’t like to stand still. “All right, Rand,” the Duke called. “Open the gate. Release young Merry into the wild!”

Immediately, the stocky stableman swung the paddock gate wide. Simon rode out first. Merry went after him, sitting tiny and proud atop her sturdy pony. Lilian rode out last of all. Her heart was full as she watched the two people she loved most in the world start down the riding trail that led into the farmland surrounding Thorne Manor.

“No worries, Your Grace,” Randolph said as she rode past him. “Lady Merry really has been ready for her first ride outside of the fences since she was four.”

“Thank you, Rand, for reinforcing her assertion that her parents are overprotective,” Lilian said. But there was no sting in her words, and she smiled ruefully. She knew it was true. She clung to every day and year of Merry’s growth, both proud and fearful as her bright, fearless daughter plunged into life wholeheartedly.

Simon turned in his saddle, smiling at Merry and giving her a few pointers about keeping the pony from grabbing for the grasses along the roadway. Then his eyes lifted to Lilian’s. The understanding in his gaze sent Lilian’s mind reeling back to the day their daughter had been born—after a long, exhausting labor.

***

“Do you feel that?” he asked, gazing down at the infant in his arms. Lilian had lain back on the pillows, so tired she felt limp. She saw the awe in his eyes, though, and knew exactly what he meant. She reached out, tracing a finger along his arm to Merry’s tiny cheek.

“The love?” she whispered.

“The love,” Simon breathed. His eyes had caught hers then too, burning with such intensity that it sent a jolt of renewed energy through Lilian’s tired body. “I love you and her so much…I can hardly believe there’s room for so much feeling inside of me.”

Lilian nodded.

“You should write a poem about it,” he had said earnestly, and she had smiled.

“I’m sure I will,” she said. “Then you can read it and give me your critical opinion.” He grinned, his eyes drawn as if by a magnet back to little Merry. It was a constant joke between them that her poetry was the only poetry he couldn’t seem to read critically. But he always said it didn’t matter because it was critically acclaimed anyway.

“Aunt Susan!” The happy shout pulled Lilian back to the present. She watched as Merry released her two-handed grip on the reins to wave exuberantly to Susan as they rode past the parsonage. The cleric’s wife straightened from where she had been pulling a few weeds about the doorstep and waved back.

“Hooray, Merry!” she cheered. “Your first ride in the country.” She turned to look over her shoulder and called, “Tommy! Come and see! It’s the Duke and Duchess and Lady Merry!” The three riders slowed their horses, but it wasn’t necessary. Seconds later, seven-year-old Tommy tore around the corner of the cottage, a dog at his heels and a rooster in his arms.

“Hullo, Merry!” he shouted. “Stop and play on your way back, please?”

He directed the “please,” in Simon’s direction. The Duke chuckled, lifting his eyebrows in Lilian’s direction.

“There will be warm apple pie,” Susan added, “if that makes any difference.”

“We’ll stop,” Lilian agreed with a laugh. “No apple pie required.”

“Apple pie required,” Simon put in. Susan simply laughed and waved them on. Tommy ran along with them for a few meters, chatting to Merry about the fights his rooster had been getting into and the kittens he would show her when they stopped by.

Merry was fairly bouncing in the saddle by the time he trailed off back to the house.

“Kittens, Mother! Did you hear?” she exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted a kitten!”

“This is the first I’m hearing of it,” Lilian laughed. Then she caught Simon’s eye and laughed harder. Already, she could see that they would be heading home with one of the kittens if they were old enough to leave their mother. Simon could deny his daughter nothing. It was a wonder she wasn’t spoiled already, Lilian thought fondly.

Her heart fluttered as she thought of the news she had for Simon. It had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him for a fortnight now, but she had wanted to be sure.

They rode a little further and then circled back to the parsonage. Everyone they passed waved and complimented Merry on her first ride out of the paddock. She waved back, greeting them all by name. Already, Lilian was taking back her thought about the little girl being potentially spoiled.

When they pulled up the horses at the parsonage fence, Simon looped Belshazzar’s reins around a post then lifted Merry down before moving to help Lilian dismount. She put her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her down just as he’d lifted their daughter down—as if she was light as a feather.

“That’s a wonderful little girl you’re raising there, Your Grace,” she said, nodding toward where Merry was already skipping off with Tommy.

“Same to you, My Duchess,” he said, his green eyes warm. As her feet touched the ground, she couldn’t keep it inside any longer.

“In a few months, you won’t be able to do that quite so easily,” she said. She paused, watching confusion crinkle his brow before adding, “Of course, in a few months, I won’t be riding.”

Simon’s eyes widened, flickering to her stomach and back to her face.

“You’re sure?” he breathed.

Lilian laughed and nodded. “Positive.”

“But—you haven’t been sick like you were with Merry,” he said.

“Which is why I’m pretty sure this one will be a boy,” she said. At the joy that dawned in her husband’s expression, tears nearly sprang into her eyes.

“Oh boy. He’s going to be a troublemaker if he’s anything like me,” he murmured. For a moment, worry shone through the joy. Lilian lifted her hand to his cheek, her heart brimming.

“He has an amazing father,” she whispered. “He’ll be fine. If he’s anything like you, he will grow to be a wonderful man, and I will be the proudest mother alive.”

Simon’s eyes studied her face, so full of feeling that she found herself swallowing a lump in her throat. “May I kiss you?” he asked quietly. Lilian glanced around, but before she could even finish, Simon’s lips touched hers. She forgot to care who saw as he kissed her deeply and gently.

When they pulled apart, it took her a moment to catch her breath. Simon’s lips twitched, and Lilian swatted him gently on the chest. Then she whispered, “I should write a poem about that.”

Simon threw his head back and laughed. Lilian wrapped her arm around his waist, and he pulled her close to his side. Still laughing, they followed the children up the path to the cottage door, following the welcoming cinnamon scent of apple pie.

The End