Epilogue
Kitty gave Miranda her head and leaned down as her beloved mare flew across the fields of Blackthorne Park. When she reached her destination, she found her handsome husband already sliding out of his saddle.
“Would it be so terrible to let me win every once in a while?”
Oliver shook his head as he put his hands around her waist and lifted her out of her saddle before gently setting her on the ground. “We both know you’d never want that.” His breath tickled her ear as he spoke.
He was right, of course. As much as Kitty would love to one day beat him in a horse race, she would never accept a pity win. “We will just have to find something to do where I always win.”
Oliver laughed out loud as he pulled her close. “I believe we just played cricket three days ago, if you’ll recall.”
Kitty smiled at the memory as she wrapped her arms more tightly around her husband.
Tim had arranged a full cricket match on the village green, and it had been delightful.
Priscilla Childs would have been mortified to watch her daughter run around with a mix of gentlemen and tenants, but she was in London.
Kitty no longer had to care what her mother thought or did.
As Kitty stood in her husband’s arms, she thought over the previous few weeks.
They had been more amazing than she could have ever imagined.
Idyllic, even. After a simple ceremony in the church in Whickfield, Kitty and Oliver had left for a three-week tour of the Cotswolds.
When they returned, they discovered that they had set out to surprise each other.
Oliver, it turned out, had written to her cousin the moment their proper engagement had been finalized.
And by the time they returned to Blackthorne Park, Miranda was happily munching on oats in the stables.
When Kitty had first registered the identity of the chestnut mare, she’d spun around and kissed her husband in full view of the shocked stable hands.
Kitty’s surprise for Oliver had been more bittersweet.
She had arranged with Lady Diana and Arabella to redecorate the master and mistress’s chambers while they were gone.
A task that both women agreed was necessary.
If Kitty and Oliver were going to make a home together at Blackthorne Park, they needed to make it their own.
In the first moments after Kitty revealed her surprise, she wondered if she’d made a misstep. Oliver just stared into the master’s bedchamber, moisture in his eyes. When he finally turned towards her, he spoke. “It looks nothing like I remember.”
“That was the goal.” Not only had the curtains and the bedclothes been changed, the furniture had been re-arranged, and new wall coverings hung in both rooms. Reaching out to take Oliver’s hand, she asked, “What do you think?”
In answer, he leaned down and kissed her, long and slow. When they finally broke apart, he asked, “Does this mean you do not want to spend the rest of your life snuggled together in my childhood bedchamber?”
Hearing the subtle humor in his tone, Kitty let out a huff of amusement. “That doesn’t sound so bad.” Her tone then sobered. “But it is time for you to take your rightful place.”
In a sudden movement, Oliver slipped his arm under her knees and lifted her against his chest. “Our rightful place.” He adjusted slightly so that she was more secure. “I am the master of Blackthorne Park, but you are the mistress. And this is our home.”
With no words to describe her feelings, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.
“What has you smiling so?” Oliver asked, bringing Kitty back to the present, where they stood in each other’s arms on a picturesque hillside.
She stepped back and took her husband’s hand. “You.”
Oliver raised a brow as though he did not quite believe her. But instead of pressing, he asked, “Shall we return to the house?”
“Our house,” she corrected him. He was doing better at thinking of himself as the master of the estate, but Kitty always took pains to remind him whenever she could.
“I love you,” Oliver whispered moments before brushing his soft lips across hers.
After returning his caress, she murmured, “And I love you,” before kissing him more fully.
A few minutes later, Oliver lifted her back into her saddle. As soon as she was situated, Kitty kneed Miranda into action and called back, “race you home.” Within moments, Oliver had scrambled onto his own horse and was close on her heels.
They raced across the fields and past where the workmen were digging footings for the new dower house.
When she came within sight of their house, Kitty couldn’t help but grin.
Blackthorne Park truly was home. Not because it was grand, or the family was related to a title.
But because she shared it with a man who had seen behind her mask and trusted her enough to lower his own.
And they both cherished what they’d found.