Chapter 27 #2
“Shh, old boy,” soothed Liam, as he ran his palm down the velvety nose of the gray ten-hands Welsh pony whose halter he gripped.
This fellow had arrived in the night along with two mares in equally poor condition.
Skin and bones, the three were, their coats patchy with muck and hair loss.
While Gemma and Artemis tended the mares, Liam steadied the gelding as the farrier and animal surgeon saw to his infected back hoof.
It had been three hours since he’d been pressed into service as Gemma and Artemis’s stable lad, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He needed to be essential to events. These last few hours, he’d had time to give life and his place in it some consideration, and he thought perhaps he could be that sort of earl.
Nay, not perhaps.
He would be that sort of earl. Not the incidental sort of earl who just wanted the title and privilege and said sod all to the rest. He didn’t need to cease being a necessary man simply because he now had a title affixed to the front of his name.
One only had to look at Rake to know that much.
He’d been born to the life of an aristocrat, yet no one would ever say he wasn’t the master of his own fate.
The pony gave a low whicker, gently pushing his velvety nose into Liam’s hand. “That’s a patient lad,” he encouraged.
Of course, though he’d used these three hours to sort through certain life matters, a bigger matter remained decidedly, obstinately unsorted—Saskia.
He’d all but asked her to marry him.
How much clearer could he have been?
And she’d all but said no.
He’d had three hours to let that sink in, and with every minute, it only felt worse, as he’d gone from gutted to wretched. In fact, as the pony gave another whicker, Liam wasn’t sure who was comforting whom.
Only in the last hour had a reason for Saskia’s all-but refusal occurred to him.
Children.
She very much wanted them.
He’d said he didn’t—and he’d never corrected the record.
“The way you manage your horses without whip or spur, but rather with guidance and encouragement, that’s the sort of father you shall be.”
The fact was…she was right.
That was the sort of father he would be.
Further, Saskia believed it of him, which helped him believe it of himself.
So, he’d decided. When he was no longer needed here, he would seek her out, and this time, he would be more clear and purposeful. He would get down on one knee, if that was what it took to make his intention to spend the rest of his life with her more clear.
He liked to win—and he was determined to win Saskia.
“Liam?”
His hand froze. His ears must’ve been deceiving him, for that voice sounded exactly like…
“Liam?”
One hand still wrapped around the pony’s halter, he half turned.
Saskia.
At first glance, she was radiant in the morning light, her strawberry-blonde hair shining golden and her emerald-green pelisse setting off her ivory skin.
But as one second ticked into the next, he couldn’t help but detect the nervy energy radiating off her.
Further, there was the fact that she was remarkably well put together… “Are you dressed for travel?”
“I am.”
His brow dug a trench into his forehead. “Are you leaving?”
“I was.” She eyed him up and down. “Are you wearing the same clothes from last night?”
“Gemma happened across me nearly the instant I left—” Your room. That wouldn’t do. One never knew when curious ears were listening, particularly when one set of inquisitive, sisterly ears occupied the stall just across the aisle.
“You’re filthy.”
He shrugged. “The horse business can be a dirty one.” He looked down at himself and snorted. “These togs won’t be seeing the inside of an aristocrat’s soirée again.”
A smile trembled about Saskia’s mouth, and all he could think about was kissing it.
“Liam?”
He glanced past Saskia to find Gemma approaching, her hand held out, a spark of mischief in her eyes. “I’ll take over from here, brother,” she said. “You and Lady Saskia can feed the chickens.”
“The feed bag is against the wall outside the gate,” carried Lady Artemis’s voice from across the aisle.
Saskia lifted her eyebrows and smiled. That was their marching orders received.
Liam couldn’t help feeling slightly awkward and observed as they made their way to the chicken yard. Also, he couldn’t help wondering… “Do I stink?”
“No more than one would expect.”
He nodded, deciding to take that as encouraging. “So, you were leaving?” He had to ask.
“I was.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I didn’t.”
“You came to find me instead.”
Why? he left unasked, for he didn’t need to.
She would answer that question in her own time.
They reached the chicken yard, and he held the open bag out to her. She scooped a handful of feed and scattered it in a wide arc. The chickens ran and squawked and boisterously flapped their wings in a frenzy to claim their rightful share.
Saskia’s face lit with delight. “What a ruckus they create. So dramatic.”
A sudden strident crowing pierced the air, startling them around. “Oh, Rodney,” laughed Saskia, reaching into the bag for another handful. The rooster clucked indignantly, but he gobbled up his meal all the same.
“Saskia,” said Liam, reclaiming her attention. The time had arrived. It was now or never… “I want children.”
Whatever it was she’d come to say, he wanted to ensure she factored that in.
Her eyebrows creased together. “Pardon?”
“I want you to know I’ve reconsidered my stance on future children, in case you’re still thinking of leaving.”
She nodded, slowly. “Actually,” she said, “I’ve been thinking about your memoir.”
“Oh?” Disappointment sheared through him. She’d sought him out because of the bloody memoir?
“It doesn’t have to end with the St. Leger.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Your story can have a different ending.” She hesitated. “We can give it a different ending—you and I.”
We…you and I.
Was she saying what he thought she was saying?
His heart wanted to believe so.
“You and I can end with a win.”
Perhaps his heart was getting what it wanted, but he needed to say something. “Do you know what horse racing taught me about life?”
She shook her head and waited.
“Horse racing taught me how to bide my time,” he continued. “It taught me when to be patient and when to hold my ground and when to fight for the win. It taught me to never give up. And, Saskia?”
“Yes?” Her voice had gone breathless, her eyes glassy silver with unshed tears.
“While I like winning, I’ve never been in the running for as precious a prize as your heart.
” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.
He needed to be touching her. He needed to be kissing her.
“I love you, Saskia. I want to spend my life with you, loving each other and raising a family and growing old together. So, tell me, Saskia, have I won you?”
A tear broke free and streamed down her cheek.
“There is a reason I started writing about love.” She swallowed and shook her head.
“I began writing about love out of fear. In a fictional world, I could safely explore love without ever having to risk myself. As a result, I became convinced that perfect love only exists on the page.”
She closed the distance between them and lifted onto the tips of her toes. Now, only a scant inch of air separated her mouth from his. But he couldn’t kiss those sweet lips yet. They had more yet to say.
“But that isn’t true,” she continued. “It isn’t possible for perfect love to exist on the page. Love is an alive thing. It grows with every beat of our hearts. I love you, Liam, and I want to spend the rest of my days growing our love together, always.”
“Always, Saskia,” he promised.
He took her face in his hands and, at last, brought their mouths together.
From the direction of the stables, he caught the clapping of sisterly hands and, not two feet away, came the enthusiastic crowing of Rodney.
Destiny had sought him and the woman in his arms to play a variety of roles—writer…publisher…jockey…earl—but those roles paled beside who they were and would be to each other—lover…friend…wife…husband.
Those roles, too, had been destined.
He didn’t know what destiny held for them beyond this moment.
But he didn’t need certainty.
He only needed this woman.
She was the only future he needed.