Wrong Place. Wrong Time. Right Viscount.

Chapter 23

One Year Later

Alec laid with his head in Elle’s lap as she gently ran her fingers through his hair. He hummed in contented pleasure, adoring when she did that. He adored anything that involved her hands on him, truth be told. Gentle caresses or playful touches, wiping dirt from his cheek after doing yard work as she called it, or scratching her nails down his back in the throes of passion, leaving bloody marks that he wore as badges of honor.

They lounged on a quilt, enjoying the warm evening air, light, cool breezes rustling the leaves every so often and washing the scent of Elle’s perfume over him. She leaned back on one hand, continuing to run her fingers through his hair with the other, humming quietly. He reached up and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth so that he could kiss her knuckles and then the gold ring that never failed to make his heart leap. His wife. She was his wife, and that knowledge still seemed like a dream some days. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this life, as strange as it was at times—time traveling certainly made their lives far from normal, to be sure—but he thanked God for it every day. He wouldn’t change a single thing, would go through everything all over again if he had to if it meant ending up here with Elle in his arms and his heart—and his bed.

His blood heated at the mere thought of her in their bed. Dear God, the things the woman could do with her body, the things he’d experienced, the things they’d taught each other. He shifted his hips as his cock stiffened at the mere thought of it all. Images of her from that very morning, hands bound with a silk scarf and secured to their bed posts, her hips rolling and head thrashing, begging him to “stop teasing and fuck me, damn it!” His lips curled at the memory even as a tremor of desire ran through his body.

“Are you cold?” she asked.

“No, I’m alright,” he promised.

The sun had nearly set, and the sky looked like one of Elle’s paintings, streaks of deep pink and orange being chased by the darker purple and blue of true night.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” she said quietly. He shifted his gaze, staring at the orb already beginning to glow a bright grayish gold against the fading light.

“Men really go there?” Alec asked. She’d told him all about the wonders of space travel, but he could scarcely believe it. It was still hard for him to wrap his mind around much of what she’d told him of the future: great wars and terrifying weapons that could decimate entire countries; communication devices that could span oceans; medical miracles that would allow a surgeon to replace one person’s failing heart with another, healthy one, or to operate on a child while it still resided in its mother’s womb. Sometimes, he had to sit with the knowledge quietly for a time, and she always kissed him softly and let him be to work through everything in his own mind. Other times, he wanted nothing but to ask her endless questions, making her laugh.

He stared at the moon once more. Some things from her time, like automobiles and boats large enough to hold thousands upon thousands of people, or what she’d explained were called airplanes, weren’t all that hard to imagine. The mechanics and physics of those made sense to him.

But humans traveling out among the stars? Impossible.

She laughed quietly. “Yep. July 16, 1969. The first man will walk on the moon and the entire world will watch with bated breath.”

Alec sat up and turned to look at his wife. She looked beautiful, as she always did, with her hair in loose curls flowing down her back, her blue eyes looking brilliant as gemstones even in the fading daylight.

“Come here,” he said softly. She didn’t hesitate, just crawled into his lap, settling her knees on either side of his hips, her dress rucking up to reveal soft, bare thighs. He ignored the way she felt on top of him, ignored how his cock pulsed and the desperate need to take her right here in the garden. Well, he mostly ignored it anyway. He could scarcely keep the images of her twirling about the brass pole she’d had erected in one of the spare rooms in their wing from his mind. When he asked her what on earth the purpose was as he watched the workmen secure the thing in place a fortnight ago, she merely smiled that secretive, seductive smile of hers, the one that made his blood turn to fire in his veins, and told him she’d demonstrate soon.

And dear God, had she. He’d barely been able to remain in his chair as he watched her sway and twirl and wrap her body around the damned thing, moving like sin made flesh. Only his promise to sit until she was finished kept him in place, but once she was done, he’d flown to her, slamming his lips to hers before taking her hard against the wall until they were both nearly mindless.

It was his new favorite room in the entire manor.

Now, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him softly.

“Are you sure you don’t regret your choice?” he asked when she pulled away.

“This again?” she said with an amused smile. “No, Alec. I don’t regret it, not at all. Sure, I still miss running water and Amazon Prime, but this is where I’m meant to be. This is where we’re meant to be.”

Alec thought back to the day she’d made the decision that they would remain in the past:

“When do you we leave, love?” he asked her. “I’ll need a bit of time to get my affairs in order, to make sure all of my property and wealth transfers to Rosie and Percival for the time being—if that’s alright with you, of course,” he said to Callum and Jocy.

“Of course, if that’s what you want, Alec,” Jocy said softly. She looked both happy and heartbroken all at once.

“I can get everything sorted within the week, if that’s your desire.” He already had thoughts of how, with Callum’s help, he could most likely make some of his land and wealth available to them in the future as well. He looked at Elle, waiting for her to speak. She still had that faraway look in her eyes, the one that told him she was only half hearing everything. Or half believing it anyway.

She looked incredulous when she finally focused, shaking her head.

“You’ve already thought this all through? But it only just happened.”

Alec shrugged a shoulder. “There isn’t anything to think through, not really. You are going, and I will always go where you go. Always. Whether it be across the earth or time. You are my home, Elle. Not a city or continent or even a century. You.”

Her eyes watered and then her lips curled into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. He smiled back, his chest feeling like it would burst from joy at seeing her so happy.

“So, again I ask, when do you want to go?”

She kissed him hard, not caring that anyone was watching.

“Never,” she said, pulling away. “We aren’t going. We’re staying here, Alec. We’re staying with our family,” she added, turning to smile at Callum and Jocelyn.

His brow furrowed. “What on earth are you talking about? Of course we’re going. You—”

She slapped her hand over his mouth and his eyes flew wide with shock. No one had ever dared do such a thing.

“Shush,” she commanded. “The fact that you were ready to give up everything for me, to change your entire life and leave everything you’ve ever known without hesitation, just to make me happy....” She shook her head a little and shifted her hand from his mouth to cup his cheek. “This is where we’re supposed to be, Alec. I know it. I think the magic was giving us a choice, but I’m choosing to stay here. I’m choosing the life that I never expected, but wouldn’t change for anything. I’m choosing the life I was meant to find.”

Alec kissed her then, so deeply that Callum finally cleared his throat and he and Elle pulled apart, laughing. He and Jocy were smiling though, and she rushed forward and wrapped Elle in a hug, laughing through tears. Callum clapped Alec on the shoulder.

“Well, I canna say that I’m no’ happy that you’re staying. I would have felt as if I’d lost a daughter and a son in one fail swoop if you’d gone.” Callum’s voice was rough with emotion and Alec nodded, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Elle met his gaze over Callum’s shoulder and he smiled. Alec would have been happy in the future with her, he had no doubts. He would be happy with her anywhere, in any time, but he was glad that they were remaining. Though he was ready to give up everything if it meant being with Elle and giving her everything she could ever want, he would have missed Callum and Jocelyn and Rosie. Hell, he would have even missed Percy who was fitting into the family effortlessly. Alec was glad to not be leaving his family—not one given to him by blood, but one made by fate.

But there were still matters to settle.

“If you want to stay, I’ll stay,” Alec said, grinning, “on one condition.”

“Just one?” Elle said with a quirk of her brow.

“For now,” he amended. “My condition is that you become Lady Kentworth as soon as humanly possible.”

“Now that,” Elle said before crossing to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking at him like he was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen, “I can get on board with.”

Elle leaned in now and gently sucked on his bottom lip, pulling him from his memories with a low groan.

“I don’t regret choosing this life, Alec. This is where we’re meant to be. My life then hadn’t felt complete in a long time. I had a beautiful home, a job I loved, and plenty of acquaintances, so I know that I was very lucky and that I couldn’t really complain, but still—something was missing. I didn’t always want to acknowledge it, but deep down, I was restless, searching for something without even realizing it.” She kissed him again. “I was searching for you, Alec. I know that now, deep in my soul. So, no, I don’t regret my choice.”

His heart clenched. He’d been so worried that she would, that she would resent him in time, but she’d seemed genuinely happy with her choice and had been flourishing. After the Mac-Tavish ball, almost everyone in the Ton had wanted to commission a portrait by Elle, and Alec’s chest never failed to bow with pride when he saw one of her creations hanging on a wall. She’d painted a beautiful piece for Rosie and Percy to hang proudly in their new home, a stately manor on the far side of the MacTavish property. Everything seemed to be falling perfectly into place for everyone he cared about and he had never been happier.

Elle kissed him again and then pulled back to study him. It looked as if she were debating saying something more. She licked her lips, almost…nervously?

“Though, I might regret staying here in the age before modern marvels like epidurals and teething rings…once the baby comes.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he was frozen. Had he heard her properly? Had she really said…

She nibbled her lip and held his gaze, that mischievous glint in her brilliant blue eyes. Then all at once, his chest swelled and his eyes watered and his entire body lit with a joy he never knew could exist. He loved Eleanor, loved her more than his own life, but the love he felt growing inside his chest was something entirely new, something entirely different. It was something he’d always wanted, but in an abstract, intangible way. He’d had a small glimpse of it with Colette, God rest her soul, but now, it was wholly real and wholly beautiful and wholly theirs, together.

He had to clear his throat several times before he could speak and he felt a tear streak down his cheek. Elle’s own eyes watered at the sight and she brushed it away with her thumb.

“Are you saying…You’re…We’re going to have a child?”

She nodded, laughing and crying at the same time.

“Are you…alright with that?”

“Alright? Alright? Elle, I…” He had no words. There would never be words to accurately express to her how much this meant to him, how happy he was. So, instead, he slammed his lips to hers, kissing her so deeply, so reverently, that soon they were both gasping for air. He shifted so that she was on her back on the blanket, and she quickly had his laces undone and his cock free. He tore what she’d explained were called panties from her body, pulling her dress up her and over her head in one quick, practiced movement. Neither one of them cared if anyone saw them, and the staff had come to expect to see the two of them “going at it like rabbits all over the fucking place,” as Elle had so eloquently put it.

“Alec,” she breathed in that way that undid him. Part plea, part prayer, part demand. He wasted no time, moving to cover her body with his and sinking deep inside her with one long thrust of his hips. She cried out and arched up, and he balanced on his forearms as he began to move, deep measured thrusts as he kissed her lips and neck, as he whispered that he loved her, that she was the light of his existence, that she had made him the happiest man ever to live. He shifted, intertwining their fingers and raising their joined hands above her head. She squeezed his hands tightly, raising her hips in time with his thrusts, their bodies in perfect rhythm. They were made to fit together, made to move together, made for each other in all ways.

“I love you,” she whispered against his neck. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

What felt like hours later, she came apart beneath him and he followed just after as the moon shone down on them. They lay tangled together afterwards, staring up at the stars. Alec rested a protective hand on her still very-taut stomach, feeling such a strange, intense, unexplainable connection to the life inside, the one he and Elle had created.

“You know,” he said softly, “my father told me that he wanted me to be happy when I first arrived for the season. I told him that I wasn’t sure if I knew how to be.” His chest clenched thinking of his father, a sudden swift pain at the thought that Jonathan would never meet his grandchild. “And he told me that I simply needed to find someone to teach me.”

Elle looked up at him, lips curving in a slow, sweet smile. Alec let out a long, shuddering breath.

“Thank you, Eleanor. Thank you for teaching me how to be happy, how to love and be loved.”

She traced her fingertips over his lips, a look of such love in her eyes that he could hardly stand it.

“I love you, Alexander Kentworth.”

“And I love you, Eleanor Kentworth,” he said with a slow, blissful grin.

She settled her head on his chest.

“If it’s a boy, we’ll name him Jonathan,” she whispered. “I think he’d like that.”

Alec’s eyes burned and he squeezed her tighter against his side. “I think you’re right, he would. Thank you, love.”

Not long after that, her breaths became deep and even, her body relaxing against his. She’d fallen asleep in his arms. Where she belongs. Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, he was so profoundly grateful for whatever had brought her to him. Call it fate, call it magic, call it fairies. Whatever it was, he owed his entire happiness to it.

“Thank you,” he whispered again, pressing his lips to her temple, his own eyes sliding closed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”