Chapter Thirteen #2
He grinned. “Then you would not have twelve of my sons?”
There was teasing in the air. Lyssa played along, giving him an expression that suggested she was both shocked and frightened at the mere mention.
“T-Twelve?” she repeated. “C-Can we not negotiate this number?”
He laughed. “Absolutely not,” he said, sobering unnaturally fast. “Twelve sons. I demand it.”
The humor between them was playful, and so very natural, and a mischievous gleam came to her eye. “W-What good are so many sons?” she asked. “D-Daughters are far more valuable. T-Think of the great marriages you could make.”
He shook his head drolly. “Think of the dowries I would have to pay.”
She smiled brightly. “T-Take heart; mayhap they would not marry at all and you could save your money. M-My family has a history of spinsters, as evidenced by my Aunt Rose. I-If our daughters do not marry, then you do not have to pay anything at all.”
His eyes narrowed. “Twelve unmarried women living at home for the rest of my life?” he scoffed. “I would rather live in the barn with the horses than listen to twelve frustrated women for the rest of my days.”
Lyssa laughed at him, biting her lip and pretending not to when he looked at her. “T-Then mayhap we should reconsider having twelve children,” she said. “M-Mayhap just a few would be sufficient.”
“For my greatness? If we are only to have a few, then most definitely they must all be sons.”
“I-I should like to name the first one after me.”
He looked at her as if she’d gone mad. “Lyssa? For a man?”
She laughed. “N-Nay,” she said firmly. “B-Bose. I-I have always wanted a son named for me. I-I have no brothers, so mayhap it is the only way to carry on something of my name.”
She had a point. Garret considered it. “Bose de Moray,” he muttered. “I believe I like it.”
“T-Thank you, my lord.”
“You are welcome.”
He said it rather imperiously, as if he was granting her permission, and Lyssa snorted, shaking her head at a man who believed his greatness was rooted in the number of sons he had and, better still, that he had control over what his wife would name them.
But that was the way most men thought, or so she’d been told, and the truth was that she really didn’t mind.
Up until a few days ago, she wasn’t sure she would ever marry much less have children, so if Garret wanted to feel as if he had control over their children and their names, then she was happy to let him.
For certain, it was all a fantastic dream just like the rest of this life she was now living.
It was magical.
But thoughts of children and marriage brought her to thoughts of their coming separation.
As she’d been told, Garret had arranged for her to take a position at Lioncross Abbey Castle, seat of the great de Lohr family.
As happy and thrilled as she was to be leaving Colchester, Lioncross Abbey was on the Welsh Marches and that seemed like a million miles away from London and from Garret.
Certainly, it was far enough that she would not see him with any frequency and that concerned her.
“M-May I ask a question, Garret?” she asked quietly.
He looked at her. “You need not ask my permission to ask a question,” he said. “You are free to speak to me of anything you wish.”
Her smile was back, but it was soft and warm. “N-No one has ever said that to me.”
“What?”
“T-That I am free to speak. M-My mother used to tell me that my stammer made her head hurt. S-She would encourage me not to speak.”
He squeezed her fingers, still tucked in her hand. “Your stammer does not make my head hurt,” he said. “I have told you before that it makes no difference to me.”
“T-Then you are exceptionally gracious.”
“Have you ever practiced your speech without a stammer? I wonder if there are those who can teach you to speak without it.”
She shrugged. “I-I do not know. B-But I confess that sometimes I would like to speak as everyone else does. I-I have often wondered… well, if it is a habit I have never been able to break and nothing more. M-My tongue and my teeth are like anyone else’s, so I do not believe it is a defect.
B-But my stammer grows worse when I am nervous or frightened, yet in times like this…
I-I should not like for you to marry a woman that less-accepting men may whisper about.
A-As if you have married someone… imperfect. ”
He came to a halt, looking at her. “Is that what you have been told? That you are imperfect?”
Now, it was her turn to squeeze his hand. “Y-You cannot deny that my speech is less than perfect.”
He scowled. “Lyssa, I am not sure who ever told you that you were imperfect, but you are by far the most perfectly alluring and lovely woman I have ever met. I would not be courting you if I did not think so.”
The flush in her cheeks was back. “I-I suppose I am still in disbelief that so great a man should want to court me,” she said. “N-No man has ever wanted to court me. Y-You are the very first.”
“And the very last,” he told her, resuming their walk. “Never doubt that my intentions are true, Lyssa. Not ever.”
“I-I will not, I swear it.”
He tugged on her hand, gently, and ended up pulling her up against him.
She wound both arms around his big right arm, holding him snuggly as they continued towards the end of the street.
Lyssa could feel his big body against hers, her arms all wounded up around his muscular arm.
To her, it was just like heaven. She’d never been so proud to be with anyone, a man who didn’t see any flaws in her.
Wasn’t that what love was like? She’d heard that once, that men and women in love only saw the perfection in each other.
She’d known Garret all but two days but, still, she only saw the man’s perfection.
To her, there was no man more handsome or more kind, and her heart felt as if it were fluttering wildly in her chest, as if it would fly away completely if she gave it the chance.
Boldly, she placed her cheek against his arm, feeling the warmth of his enormous bicep against her cheek.
“A-About my question,” she said, returning to the original subject. “H-How long shall I stay at Lioncross Abbey Castle?”
They were nearing the edge of the street where there were two rather larger stalls that carried exotic merchandise from France and beyond.
Garret slowed his pace as he looked at the wares on display at the stall on his right.
But more than that, he was relishing the feel of Lyssa against him.
God, he needed this time with her. He needed these moments with her.
He looked down at her head against his arm, thinking this was what he wanted for the rest of his life – her against him, just as she was now. Trusting. Sweet.
His.
It made her question all the more difficult to answer.
“Not too long, hopefully,” he said. “There are things going on here in London that I must be part of and my responsibilities at Westminster keep me busy, so I hope it will not be too long before I can return for you.”
She was silent a moment. “W-We hardly know each other,” she said. “W-We will have to come to know each other again if I remain at Lioncross for too long.”
He had thought about that, too. That was perhaps the biggest issue he had with sending her so far away, but it could not be helped. He’d hardly spent any time with the woman but, already, he was missing her.
“It will not be so bad,” he said, trying to sound positive.
“I can court you all over again. Mayhap, the time away from each other will even make you long for me and adore me all the more. You will spend your days thinking of me and your nights dreaming of me so that when I come to you again, you will fall into my arms regardless of how long it has been.”
She lifted her head from his arm, gazing up at him with those wide beautiful eyes he found utterly mesmerizing. “I will fall into your arms in any case,” she said softly, “and I shall wait every day for your return.”
He stared at her; the moment between them had become warm and fluid, swirling around them, flowing through him as if sheer energy were pulsing through every vein in his body.
She was holding on to his arm but, suddenly, that arm was around her, pulling her soft body up against his.
He held her; the first time he had truly held her and all he could do was look into that face and see his future reflecting in her eyes.
She was his future.
“Do you realize you just spoke to me without a stammer?” he asked huskily.
She blinked as if she did not understand the question. “T-That is not possible.”
Garret heard the stammer in her voice again and was sorry he’d mentioned it.
Not that it mattered, but he did find it rather remarkable that in a moment of warmth between them, perfect speech met his ears.
Perhaps she hadn’t stammered; perhaps she had and he’d only heard perfection.
For certain, he was coming to think there was nothing imperfect about her in any way.
In fact, he was thinking very much on kissing her as he gazed down at the woman. Something was pulling him towards her but he didn’t want their first kiss to be a spectacle for all to see. Fighting the urge to suckle on her sweet lips, he forced himself to look away.
“Then I must have misheard you,” he said belatedly, trying to distract himself from thoughts of her tender lips, calling to him. “Shall we look at this merchant? Mayhap there is something more you would like to have.”
He started to walk but Lyssa dug her heels in. “N-Nay,” she said. “I-I have enough, truly. Y-You have already been quite generous today.”
“That is of little consequence. If you need more, we shall find what more you need.”
Lyssa shook her head, tugging on him so he wouldn’t try to force her into spending more of his money. “I-I have all I need, I assure you.” She paused. “B-But I am rather hungry. D-Do you suppose we could find something to eat?”