Epilogue
“Iam sorry,” Bridget sobbed. “I am so very sorry, Adrian!”
Adrian took her into his arms, letting her cry into his chest outside of the decaying cottage.
As he held her, he watched as Damien spoke to the constables.
Victor was in irons, already taken to the wagon.
Several uniformed men were standing by the edge of the cliff, scratching their heads over how to collect Warren’s body.
“Please stop apologizing,” Adrian begged, squeezing her tighter. “You did an admirable thing. You thought you were sending my brother home. I cannot tell you how much that means to me that you were willing to go to all this trouble for him.”
He pulled away, just enough to dab his kerchief beneath Bridget’s eyes and kiss her. He did not stop until her sobbing became breathy sighs.
“I never once thought it would be Warren,” she whispered afterward. “I knew he could be cold and cruel, but this… all of this has been far more twisted than I could have ever imagined.”
Adrian nodded, feeling that pang in his chest rise up as, yet again, it was proven to him that his brother was well and truly gone.
“Let us get you out of this place and back home,” Adrian said, pushing his own feelings aside. “You need a hot bath and some rest at once.”
He went to move, but Bridget stiffened.
“Darling, what is it?” Adrian asked, seeing the worry return to her eyes.
“Your poor mother,” she whispered. “You said she found my note. What is she going to do when she discovers that this was all a ruse and that Evander was never alive? She has held out so much hope that he is going to come back, but now…”
Adrian drew in a deep breath, trying to find his center among the dizzying fray of the day’s events.
“Whatever happens, she will be first and foremost elated that you are safe and well,” Adrian promised. “As for her feelings toward Evander, well, she has you and me to help her now.”
Bridget looked unsure, but when he urged her to lean her head back on his shoulder, she did so, and he held her close, letting his hands roam freely over her back to further convince himself that she was still in one piece.
He had asked many times, surely ad nauseam, if she was all right, but he was not entirely convinced.
He needed to get her home, do a thorough search of her heart, body, and mind before his soul could accept such a fact.
“Let us get you home, Bridget,” he insisted. “Where you belong.”
“Bridget!” Elara exclaimed.
Bridget wrapped her arms around the slightly smaller woman as Elara’s arms squeezed her middle tight, nearly threatening to steal her breath. She did not mind, though. She needed to feel that. To feel all of them wrap around her. Her family.
“We were worried sick!” Elara said in a chastising tone. She pulled away enough to give Bridget a scolding look.
“I am so very sorry I worried all of you,” Bridget replied, looking around at the small gathering of people she had come to love.
“You were very brave,” Nora said, her voice breaking as she opened her arms and walked toward Bridget.
Elara stepped aside, letting her mother take her place.
“Damien rode ahead and told us of what had happened,” Nora whispered in her ear. “I know my boy was not there, but… but the fact that you put yourself in danger for him…”
Nora’s voice broke off into a sob. Bridget held her tighter, her own eyes misting as they clung to one another.
“I am so sorry, Nora,” Bridget whispered. “I wanted him to be there.”
Nora squeezed her tighter for a moment, then released her and stepped back.
“I know you did, sweet girl,” she replied, drying her eyes with a kerchief. “Evander would have loved having you as a sister.”
Bridget’s chest ached as all of the fear she had kept in check that day began to unravel itself.
“I would have loved having him as a brother,” Bridget answered, her voice breaking.
The two women moved back in for another tight embrace, then eventually, Nora stepped aside.
Caroline came forward next. Though they were still only growing used to each other, the younger woman expressed her happiness that Bridget had returned safely.
Damien came last. He did not hug her, as the others had.
Bridget knew him well enough now that he was not the type of man to show such affection, but he put a hand on her shoulder, his other on Adrian’s, and looked at them both.
“You two are perfect for each other,” he stated wryly. “I see I shall have to keep you both out of trouble in our future.”
“Now,” Adrian said once Damien stepped back with the others, “I know you all have questions and worries for our dear braveheart here.”
He looked down at Bridget and winked. She smiled, blushing a little as she thought of Damien’s earlier words.
“However, she is in need of rest and recovery. So, if you do not mind, I am taking her upstairs to make sure she receives both.”
Adrian then assured everyone that he and Bridget would come downstairs when they were ready, and after everyone agreed and bid them a good evening, Bridget tiredly allowed Adrian to lead her up the stairs.
As Damien opened the door to her quarters, she was welcomed with another bout of hugs from Eva and Mona, who had buckets in their hands.
“Oh, Your Grace, we are so elated that you are back!” Eva exclaimed, fussing over Bridget’s hair.
“We should have taken better care of you!” Mona admonished. “I knew something once you read that letter! I knew it!”
Adrian cleared his throat, and at once, the two maids fell back and curtseyed.
“And your enthusiasm is greatly appreciated,” Adrian answered kindly. “However, my wife is in dire need of some rest. Have you prepared the bath?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Eva replied, standing upright. “We just finished filling the tub. There are salts and oils on the stand. The bedding has been changed, and your valet has brought a few of your things down from your quarters.”
“Excellent,” Adrian said as Bridget turned to him with a curious look. “Thank you both. You may depart now. We shall ring you if we need anything else.”
The two of them curtseyed once more, and as soon as the door shut, Adrian began leading Bridget to her bathing room.
“How did you do all of this?” Bridget asked, looking down at the enticing bathing tub filled with steaming, clear water. “When?”
“I had Damien ride ahead to take care of a few things for us,” Adrian said, going to the back of her dress.
Her flesh tingled as he placed a soft kiss on the nape of her neck, then she felt his fingers begin to loosen the stays of her dress.
“And your things?” Bridget asked.
“I have had many revelations today,” Adrian explained, sliding the fabric of her dress slowly down her shoulders.
She sighed softly. Though the dress was simple and lightweight, after the day’s events, it now felt heavy and burdensome.
“For starters, I no longer wish for us to have separate quarters,” Adrian went on as he moved to loosen her corset next. “I have been spending my nights with you anyway, and having our things separated is ridiculous.”
Adrian moved to his knees, placed one of her hands on his shoulders for balance, then helped her step out of the pool of fabric.
Warmth spread through Bridget’s body as Adrian’s strong hands so very delicately reached for her calves and slid over her flesh.
Her breath caught, and goosebumps pebbled her skin at his reverent attention.
She let her head loll back slightly as his hands roamed slowly over her body, as if inspecting every precious inch for a bruise or cut.
“I want nothing about our union to remind you of what you used to endure,” Adrian rasped, sliding his palms up to her thighs and backside. “I want us to be completely different.”
Bridget fought the fog gathering in her mind from Adrian’s touch and opened her eyes. She reached down and cupped his cheek, and her heart fluttered as she watched him nuzzle into her touch.
“You have already proven that, my love,” she whispered, tracing her fingertips over his cheekbone, his lips, his jaw.
Adrian’s blue eyes burned as he looked up at her.
“And I intend on proving that again and again,” he vowed. “After today, you will never have a reminder of your past. I will make sure of it.”
He kissed her palm, then rose to his feet.
Adrian continued his inspection, prodding gently over her waist, her sternum, and her back.
When he reached her breasts, he stepped behind her, and as he pressed soft kisses into her neck, he dragged his fingertips up her waist until he could cup the underside of her breasts, and gathered them in his hands.
Bridget grew dizzy with desire; her nipples hardening into taut peaks at his touch.
“I want you,” she breathed, leaning the back of her head against his shoulder.
“You have me,” Adrian whispered against her ear, then trailed kisses to the other. “You will always have me. I must make sure you are all right first.”
“I am!” she said almost desperately. She wanted Adrian to take her completely. As if for him to do so would dissolve any reminder of Warren’s hands on her earlier that day.
She tried to move, tried to turn around so she could start removing his clothes as well, but Adrian held her fast.
“Patience, my love,” he murmured, drawing his fingertips up to her shoulders.
Bridget whimpered, but she allowed him to finish. He trailed his fingers back down her arms, then turned her around. She watched as he looked over her body with a look of deep concentration, taking in every aspect of her. Then his brows furrowed, and he lifted her wrist.
“That bastard,” he growled.
Bridget looked at her wrist as Adrian held it in one hand and caressed it gently with the other. There, like a bracelet, was a ring of bruises. He then picked up her other wrist and held them together, and she discovered that she had a matching set.
“It was just from the ropes,” she murmured, seeing anger cloud over Adrian’s handsome face. “They will heal.”
Adrian nodded, but that angry expression did not fade, even as he so very gently brought her wrists to his lips and showered them with soft kisses.
Bridget thought of how Warren had first grabbed her throat when she had stepped into the abandoned house.
It was, she supposed, a miracle that she had not bruised there, for she was sure if she had, Adrian would try to find a way to have Warren killed all over again.
“Come,” Adrian urged. “Let us get you in the bath before the water cools.”
Before she could ask him to join her, Adrian went to his knees by the side of the tub and rolled up his sleeves.
He poured in lavender oil, the scent of which instantly made her relaxed and sleepy, and then swished in a bit of the salts.
Then he reached for the sponge, lathered it with her rose-scented soap, and began to wash her.
Two weeks ago, Bridget would have been too bashful to allow such a thing. Now, though, she let her head rest on the lip of the tub as her husband smoothed the sponge over every inch of her flesh, washing away the dirt of not just the day, but of her past.
However, when his sponge dipped between her parted thighs, Bridget softly gasped and arched her back.
“Adrian,” she breathed, her eyes slowly opening to find his. “Please. I need you.”
Yet where she thought she would find an equal look of need in Adrian’s eyes, she saw a sadness that made her heart ache. Bridget sat up, pushing away her growing desire, and wrapped her arms around Adrian’s neck.
“What is it, my love?” she begged, searching his blue eyes for answers. “Why do you look at me like this?”
Adrian’s feelings thus far had come out in rushes of excitable confession, as if he had first needed to feel a certain amount of anger before he could tell his truth. Yet now, she watched as her utterly masculine husband bowed his head and touched his forehead to hers.
“Before I found the letter, I thought you had left me today,” he whispered, the pain clear in his voice.
“No,” Bridget breathed, holding him closer.
“I thought I had failed in proving my love to you,” Adrian whispered on, his breath trembling. “I had thought I would never feel so low as the day I heard of my brother’s loss, yet when I discovered you gone today, I realized that such pain could go so much deeper than I ever thought.”
Her arms curled tighter around his shoulders as he lowered his head to her breast. Bridget pulled him with her, and without fight, Adrian slid over the edge of the tub and got into the water with her, clothes and all.
“I love you, Adrian,” Bridget confessed as she stroked his dark hair. “I was frightened to death to accept such knowledge, fearing it would be used against me. But it is true. I love you with all my heart.”
Adrian raised his head, the worry in his eyes shifting to pure affection.
“Bridget, I love you so much,” he rasped. “You have brought so much to my life, and I will never stop thinking of ways to thank you for that.”
Bridget giggled, wrapping her legs around his waist as she tugged loose his cravat.
“You have still not grown bored with me, then?” she asked.
Amusement glittered in Adrian’s eyes as he leaned up.
“Never,” he whispered, then sealed their lips into a kiss.
It was tricky, getting Adrian’s heavy, soaking clothing away from his body, but they removed them together, and as Adrian slid his thick, hardened erection into her waiting core, Bridget gasped his name and dug her nails into his shoulder blades.
They made love in the tub slowly at first, letting their bodies heat into a sizzle as they reunited. After a few minutes, though, their hunger for one another gave way, and as their coupling became more insistent, they splashed most of the water out of the tub and flooded the floor.
“More,” Bridget breathed as she shivered through the effects of her first climax.
“Yes, my love,” Adrian answered, lifting her out of the tub. “As much as you want.”
The End?