Epilogue #2
“They’re positively relentless,” she whined. “You’d think two eleven-year-olds would have better things to do with their time than follow around a boring old coot like me.” I smoothed a hand over her back, her hair. She snuggled closer.
A couple weeks ago, two of the children, Lyanne and Leela, had discovered that the artist behind the paintings in the dining hall and scattered around the manor was none other than their very own Headmistress Dove.
Aspiring painters themselves, they hadn’t given her a moment of peace until she agreed to tutor them both.
Individually. Apparently, there was somewhat of a rivalry between the two young artists, and they’d recently begun to each seek out their teacher in every spare moment they had, when they weren’t bickering with each other or painting, of course.
Between private tutoring, group classes, co-running the entire orphanage with me, making magical dwarfdrop cures, and now evading her two young proteges, my dear Dove had begun to run out of steam lately.
My hand slipped down her back to get a heavy handful of her bottom. Her breath against my neck turned hot as she nuzzled like a cat, and she pressed the length of her body to mine, moving me back against the cupboard shelves.
“I think it might be time to start planning that trip to the Southern Isles,” I whispered into her ear. “You need a break soon, sweet.”
“Really? I know we’ve talked about it… but we can’t leave the orphanage. Not when things are finally starting to come together.” She sighed.
I moved my leg between hers, loving the hitch in her breath as I began to slowly rub against her core.
“Everything will still be fine without us for a little while. We can trust Choia and Orinno. I’ll get our volunteers from the community to pitch in more while we’re gone, and I’m sure Prioress the Younger would send extra help too. ”
“I don’t know. Maybe next year. Or the year after that…” Dove said breathily, her eyelids fluttering closed.
I tugged the hem of her silky dress up, finding my way into her wet panties.
She shuddered at my touch, gripping my shoulders tightly.
I didn’t wear my thieving leathers anymore, trading them months ago for sturdy overalls or the occasional tailored trouser and jacket for special occasions.
The leathers were only brought out sometimes in our bedroom, on Dove’s request.
She gasped my name now as I brought her closer to climax, and I bit her earlobe gently.
“In the fall. In six months, for our anniversary, you and I will be on a boat together to the Isles. I’ll plan everything. Alright?” I whispered with amusement, pausing my fingers.
Dove whined, low and sweet, but I didn’t relent. “Alright! Alright, you menace,” she said finally. “We’ll go. Now please.”
I acquiesced, moving quick and firm over her clit once more, nipping her ear, her neck, until I felt her shuddering breaths on me, her release move through her body. She clung to me, close and warm, and I held every precious bit of her that I could gather in my arms.
After a while, she moved back slightly. “This,” she said, eyes twinkling, “is a marvelous cupboard. I see many more such liaisons here in the future.”
“Well, then I shall await your summons. Never know when proper young ladies are going to grab you into a dark room these days. What’s the realm coming to?”
She kissed my nose, then said, “Oh! Love, I have something to show you!”
Before I could blink, she’d burst out of the cupboard, startling the perpetually-sleepy Hanc in the hall, and with a shouted apology, dragged me off behind her.
Down past the kitchens and all the way into the grand entrance hall—now more commonly called the “art hall”—Dove and I ran like demons and laughed like the schoolchildren we were supposed to be in charge of. Thankfully, none of them were around.
She finally pulled us to a sudden stop in front of a wall.
Over the past months, since we’d opened the orphanage and the children had been taking art classes with Dove, she’d encouraged them to share their work with everyone here.
Some canvases framed and hung up, some parchment doodles from the littlelies simply pinned low in the wall—an eclectic array of art had begun to refill the space that once was kept crowded with expensive paintings seen by no one.
Now, dozens and dozens of us walked through every day.
Appreciating someone’s risky use of lavender, commenting on the progression of a student’s skill, and just admiring the new pieces as they were added or swapped in.
It made my chest swell every time I walked through here, and I knew Dove felt the same, if not more.
Now, she and I stood in front of a painting I hadn’t seen before.
One that must have just been added. Very large, it took up a good couple of square feet on the wall.
Inside a simple, polished wood frame, it held a scene that immediately made my vision go blurry. Blinking away tears, I took it all in.
The manor, surrounded by greenery, with a cheerful blue sky in the background.
Dove, Choia, and I standing front and center with huge smiles our faces.
Well, on theirs. Mine held a distinct scowl…
though my eyes did seem friendly somehow.
And around us, spilling across the lawn in front of the house—
The children. Everyone we’ve taken in. Every single person in our big, weird, chaotic family. Crowded close around us, with Balfie tucked right at my side.
Even the villagers were scattered throughout—the ones who we’ve built fledging relationships with in recent months, those who fostered or cared for the kids when there was no one else to take them in.
They were slow to accept and trust Dove at first, but it was happening.
Good people, who worked with us for the children, and might, however slowly, be becoming friends.
Folks from the priory were included too; I saw Prioresses the Elder and Younger, Orinno, and many of the acolytes and clerics that I’d come to know so well.
Mx. Bottlecoat, who visited us regularly—or, more accurately, visited Choia—and the stablemaster Olin, the maids we’ve hired, Hanc, even Bluebell and Lightning. Everyone was here.
I turned to Dove, silently questioning. My heart fizzed, overflowing.
“For you, love,” she said with a soft smile. “For our family.”
“It’s perfect,” I said, taking her hand with a light squeeze.
She squeezed mine back, and we stood there together at the painting for a long while, in the warmth of this enchanting manor that had become our home.