Epilogue
“Ihad no idea you were such a good dancer,” Thalia said, laughing gaily because her mood was that spectacular.
“Nor did I, truth be told,” Ronan said, his smile large, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “Perhaps you just bring it out in me.”
“Careful now,” Thalia shot back with a coy smirk. “There are people watching.”
“And?”
“If they see you enjoying yourself as you are, they might start to talk. Dare I say, they might start to talk to you. Years of trying so hard to make everyone fear you dashed in a single night because you cannot control yourself.”
Ronan rolled his eyes. “Perhaps I don’t care what they think.”
Thalia cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”
“Or perhaps I will have to do something later on to remind them that I am not to be messed with.” He pumped his eyebrows. “If I am lucky, another lord might insult you directly, providing me with the perfect excuse to punch him in the face. That ought to do it.”
“Oh yes, let us hope,” Thalia laughed. “I only married you because I rather enjoyed the terror you instilled in the ton. What good are you to me if that facade is lifted? No good at all.”
They laughed together at the silliness of the conversation. Such a state of joy found in one another’s company was a common theme of late and Thalia could not believe it had taken so long to get there.
Not that she minded the journey, for it had been needed. Both she and the duke had their own issues which needed to be worked through, pushed against, fought over, and finally resolved because as important as that journey had been, it was the ending which they both now relished.
As to what that ending was? Simple. They were in love, as happy as they had ever been, and nothing would change that.
Now, what I have to look forward to is what comes next. Smooth sailing from here on out so that the rest of our lives might even be considered boring when compared to how this all began. Not that this concerns me. All things considered, boring is exactly what we need.
It was their first night out together since Thalia returned to the Westvale Estate.
Her health had recovered. She and Ronan were no longer hiding how they felt about each other.
A marriage which was blooming like a flower reaching toward the sunlight.
And most of all, that shared thrill felt because both she and Ronan were not only in the same place for once but were both just as eager to see where things would go from here.
Thalia was the one who suggested attending the ball. She thought it best for them to be seen in public again, this time acting naturally and honestly so that there would be no doubt how much their marriage was flourishing.
And Ronan, to his credit, had not argued. In fact, he seemed to want to attend with her, excited to show her off and prove to all who might dare question their relationship just how happy they were.
They spent the early hours of the ball together, walking among the crowds, speaking to friends and acquaintances, never once leaving each other’s side.
Laughter was shared along with jokes and stolen smiles.
And while Thalia could see people watching them as they went, she did not let that worry her as she once had done. In her mind, they were simply jealous.
Ronan was the one who suggested that they dance—again, it proved beyond question how much he was changing before her eyes. He wanted to show her how much he loved her. And he wanted to prove that he wouldn’t be reverting to his old ways anytime soon.
Not that Thalia thought he would. Now that he had told her the reason for his withdrawn nature, she understood him better than she ever had.
And now that she did, she could see just how hard he had worked to move on from his past so he could enjoy the present and so he could enjoy his wife and all the time they had left together.
And if these last few days had been any indication, the weeks, months and years still left to them would be worth all the effort it took to get there.
“What’s that look?” Thalia asked Ronan, noting the way his brow was furrowed as he led her across the dance floor, concern shadowed behind his eyes.
“What look?” Ronan said quickly, forcing the frown back. “There was no look.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought we were done with the lies? Do not make me force an answer out of you.”
“It is nothing,” he sighed. “I was just thinking about Olivia. What if she wakes to find us gone?”
“She knows where we are.”
“Still…” The concern passed behind his eyes once more. “There is a chance it might storm later this evening, and I would hate for her to be alone when it does.”
Thalia felt her chin wobbling, and was she not in public, she might very well have burst into tears. Tears of joy, of course, because seeing how much Ronan cared for her daughter brought such happiness to her that she could hardly take it.
He cared so much for Olivia. He cared so much for her too. When they had first married, he promised he would be their protector, and it was a promise he looked set to keep. Not because he thought he must, but because he wanted to.
It was funny that Ronan had always thought of himself as a monster when, in Thalia’s eyes, nothing could be further from this characterization.
“How about this…” Thalia moved with Ronan across the floor; he led her expertly, keeping in time to the music, his footing assured and confident, his grip on her waist and hand commanding. “… once this dance ends, we will head back home.”
“Oh…” Ronan clicked his tongue. “We do not have to go. If you wish to stay—”
“I want to go,” she assured him. “I think our point has been made, don’t you? Best that we get out now before we do anything that might tarnish our pristine reputations.”
He laughed. “Yes, perhaps you are correct. We wouldn’t want me ruining everything now, would we.”
Thalia laughed along, knowing that Ronan’s reputation was far from being completely rehabilitated, while knowing too that it was headed in the right direction. And try as she might, she couldn’t begin to imagine what he could possibly do to change that.
At least she had been thinking that, until she looked over Ronan’s shoulder and spied someone in the crowd watching them, someone whose very presence made her blood boil and body tremble with the type of rage that her husband was now so careful not to let take him over.
My husband might be doing everything he can to fix his image, but I made no such promises.
She held that person in her glare as the dance slowly came to its end. He watched her from the safety of the crowd, wearing a smug expression because he likely thought that he was safe and that there was nothing she or her husband would be willing to do. Oh, how wrong he was.
“Where are you going?” Ronan asked as Thalia pulled away from him.
“I will be just one moment,” she spoke without looking back.
She walked across the dance floor, headed to the front edges of the crowd where none other than Lord Westmere stood watching. He saw her approach and his smile grew and his eyes glimmered with untold levels of arrogance.
“Ah, Your Grace,” he greeted loudly as she came for him. “What a pleasure it is to see you and your husband together. You have no idea how happy I am for—argh!”
Thalia did not waste time with pleasantries. She did not see the point in pretending that she liked this man. And she certainly wasn’t about to let him get away with what he had done.
That was why she punched him square in the nose.
Lord Westmere cried out and stumbled back as his hands went to his shattered nose. The crowd around them gasped. Those bodies nearby hurried away, leaving a space around him. Eyes were wide. Mouths were hanging open. And Lord Westmere, still clutching his nose, turned toward fury.
“How dare you!” he snarled from beneath his hands. “How dare—argh!” he cried again when she punched him a second time.
This time, Lord Westmere dropped like a bag of dirt.
Thalia stood over him. “I would ask that the next time you see my husband and me, that you turn and walk the other way, unless you enjoy having your nose broken.” She looked him over and scoffed. “Although I can’t help but think it is an improvement.”
“Thalia!” Ronan was at her, taking her hand and pulling her away from Lord Westmere. “What did you do?”
“Nothing that didn’t need to be done.” She exhaled as if a weight was being lifted from her, and not once did she bother looking at the crowd of guests who stared dumbstruck at what she had done. Truly, she did not give a damn what they thought. “Now, shall we head home?”
Ronan’s mouth hung open. He glanced from her to Lord Westmere on the ground and then broke into a smile before taking her hand. “Yes, I think we should. Before the storm arrives.”
“It always does,” she joked as she allowed herself to be led.
The crowd parted for them both, whispers already brewing in their wake. But Thalia paid them no mind, figuring it best that, for once, she was at the center of a scandal and not her husband.
“You know, I was only joking about finding a lord to punch,” Ronan said to her as they continued across the ballroom.
“Oh, were you?” she frowned as if she had not known. “You really ought to have been clearer. We will have to work on that.”
Ronan shook his head as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Gosh, how I love you.”
“As I love you.”
They smiled together, laughed at what had happened, and left the ballroom behind as they made their way outside to their carriage. This little moment was sure to cause a stir among their peers, and Thalia had no doubt that, come tomorrow, the entire ton would be speaking of it in condemnation.
Not that this bothered Thalia one little bit.
She did not care what others thought. She did not care for the opinions of those who mattered so little to her.
All she cared about was her husband, and from the loving look he bestowed upon her, the smile on his lips, and the laughter in his voice, she knew that he approved greatly.
Perhaps the monster lurked inside of Thalia? Lucky that she had Ronan there to calm it. He was, after all, her protector, and she knew that no matter what happened or what she did, he would be there for her always.
The End?