Epilogue
“W ould you cease?” Lydia laughed as Keith squeezed her backside. “Someone will see.”
“As though our children, nieces, and nephews aren’t aware. They’ve all seen us and your cousins.” Keith pulled Lydia into his arms. He brushed her gray locks back from her shoulders. They’d spent four decades chasing one another around their chamber and along the beach, where they now picnicked with their adult children and extended family. They stood away from where most of the family lounged on blankets. They watched as their relatives passed food among themselves, and laughter floated to them.
A breeze made the loose fabric of Lydia’s salwar billow around her legs. Neither she nor Jemma ceased wearing their traditional Indian clothing. Charlie often wore them too, insisting they were far more comfortable and practical than day and evening gowns. The sleeves of Keith’s shirt flapped as he pulled her closer.
“We’ve made a good life with our family, my darling. I should have sneaked into your library when I knew you were there. I might have brought us together sooner.” It was a sentiment Lydia shared often throughout their marriage.
“And I should have met you down here and whisked you away on my ship, sweetling.” Keith always responded with the same suggestion.
The sun dipped toward the western horizon as they shared a kiss that still made their toes curl. While the daylight might fade, nothing about their love ever had. It was a beacon that had guided them for years, and it burned just as hotly.
“I love you.” They smiled as they spoke as one. It was just as they lived. One heart, and one soul.