Chapter 12 #2
Keith, who was hefting the other end of the type cabinet, scowled at Lyon. “Is he always this helpful?” he grunted.
Lyon just rolled his neck. “Phin, Keith says ye’re a lazy bastard who cannae be bothered to lift a finger but likes to give orders.”
“I didnae—” Keith began, just as Lysander hooted with laughter from where he was organizing the ink.
“He’s no’ wrong,” Sander called.
Phin sniffed. “That’ll do, gentlemen. Ye worked out yer lefts and rights. Put it down.”
Keith heaved a grateful groan as he lowered the piece of equipment, but Lyon merely grunted as the exertion pulled at his scars.
Truthfully, the last weeks lifting and toting and moving and setting everything up for Bonnie’s surprise had been a balm for him.
A reminder of how lucky he was to be able to use his body as well as he did.
A reminder of how he’d been able to save Bonnie in time, without further damage to himself. A miracle indeed.
“Well, lads, no’ bad.” He stepped back to examine their work. “No’ bad at all.”
He’d coerced his brothers into helping him, along with the small team of workers and skilled printers led by Mr. McCaffey himself.
The presses had been difficult to obtain on short notice, but he was the future laird, and an earl’s son to boot, and he’d learned that such titles mattered to some people.
And money mattered to the rest.
These presses had come all the way from London, and he himself had been modifying them with the wrenches and binders Keith had found for him. Lyon was certain they’d match anything the larger publishing houses had to offer, possibly even better.
With Bonnie choosing what to print, and him overseeing the mechanics of the operation, they’d be a force to be reckoned with soon enough.
“Do ye suppose that was supposed to be a compliment?” Phin mock-whispered to Keith.
Lyon sent him a scowl as Keith grinned. “Aye, likely. He’s no’ a talkative one, ye ken.”
“He’d best get better at talking then,” Sander called out, “and soon.”
When the three of them glanced at him, Sander nodded to the steps.
Lyon wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see when he turned, but seeing Bonnie standing there, her stepsister Ember holding her elbow, made his heart jump into his throat.
Should she be out of bed? Was everything ready for him to show her what he’d done?
And then she smiled at him, and all of his worries ceased to matter.
He didn’t even bother excusing himself from his brothers. He couldn’t even look away from Bonnie. In a sort of daze, he met her halfway up the steps and took her arm from Ember’s hold.
“I’ve got ye now, love.”
Ember winked. “I will see to Tiffany. Looks as if everyone else is giving you privacy too.”
As he led Bonnie carefully down the steps, he saw that, indeed, his brothers and the workers had stayed clustered around the presses. Good. Good. He blew out a breath as they reached the main floor and turned her in his arms.
“Are ye well? Do ye want to sit down, Bonnie?”
She clung to him, and he knew from experience how taxed she must be. “I will soon, but I needed to speak to you.”
“Aye, anything, love.” He led her to a window seat and sank down beside her. “What do ye need?”
“You.” He didn’t think it was unintentional, from the way she smiled. “I just need you.”
“Ye have me,” he whispered gruffly, pulling her into his arms and tucking her head under his chin, careful not to jar her. “Does it hurt verra much?”
“My head?” Her question was a bit muffled, until she shifted as she brushed her fingers across her scalp. “No, not anymore. I am glad to be free of the laudanum.”
“Aye, I ken that feeling. The pain will go away eventually, and ye’ll gain full range of motion as well. But the fog the laudanum causes is sometimes a blessing, sometimes a curse.”
She was quiet for a long moment, before she pushed away, sitting upright, her hand still against the side of her head. He studied her, worriedly.
“Do I look as bad as all that?”
“Nay, of course no’, Bonnie lass.”
Her smile was a bit sad. “I am not though, am I? I am not a bonnie lass anymore.”
She looked strange without hair, true, and the scabbing covered part of her forehead and one ear, although the damage was all external, thank God.
Soon, she’d have scars, and those scars would be as distinctive, interesting, and perfect as her.
Smiling gently, Lyon inclined his head and brushed a kiss across her lips. She whimpered slightly and leaned closer, so he did it again and a third time, fighting the urge to crush her to him, knowing he couldn’t hurt her further.
Sighing softly, he straightened, but held her gaze. “Love, ye’ll always be my bonnie lass.”
Her expression slowly changed from dazed to surprised to awed. “Always, Lyon?” she whispered.
He realized what he’d confessed, and his lips twitched. “I love ye, Bonnie. I’ve wanted to tell ye so many times in the last month, but I wanted the moment to be perfect.”
Tears instantly filled her eyes, and when she blinked, one dropped down her cheek. “Is this the perfect moment then?”
Smiling now, he reached up and gently wiped away the tear with the pad of his thumb, treating her like porcelain.
“Perhaps the moment willnae ever be perfect, love. Perhaps we just have to accept the life, the moments, we’re handed, and make them perfect.
I love ye, my bonnie lass, and I want to make yer dreams come true. ”
Another tear spilled, and he caught this one as well.
“My dreams?” she whispered.
Time to tell her what he’d done. “I ken ye dream of publishing yer book and of publishing other books of that ilk, and I want to support ye.”
“Grimm and Sons burned.” Her voice caught on a sob. “You told me yourself, Lyon. It was not salvageable.”
“Nay, it wasnae, but the presses and the building were insured, and that meant we were able to…”
He gestured to the rest of the great hall where the men still worked. She blinked, confused, her lips tugging into a frown as she tried to understand. “You…bought new presses?”
He stood, then gently tugged her to her feet.
“Love, I bought and modified new presses and had them shipped here. We’re all set up to start a new publishing house, right here in Oliphant Castle.
Ye can make all the management decisions, so long as ye allow me the chance to fiddle with the mechanics from time to time. ”
Her smile seemed wobbly as she reached up to brush her fingers against the hank of hair which had fallen over his ear. He’d been letting it grow back out.
“You…started a new publishing house, Lyon?”
“I started yer publishing house, love. It isnae mine, but yers, and ye can do what ye wish with it. Just…let me be a partner perhaps?”
“A business partner?” she murmured, her fingers now trailing down his ruined cheek, causing him to shiver.
“Nay, lass,” he said gruffly, pulling her to him. “A life partner. Marry me, Bonnie. Please?”
The noise which emerged from her lips was half-laugh, half-sob. The tears were back, but so was a smile. “Because you love me, Lyon?”
“Because ye brought me back to life. With ye in my life, I feel whole, and losing ye—pushing ye away—nearly broke me. I swallowed my pride and went after ye, only to have ye break me down again, showing me my own soul. And then, when ye told me ye loved me, in spite of my beastly behavior…” He shook his head, pressing the gentlest of kisses to the wounds on the top of her head.
“When ye went into that fire, I kenned I loved ye and couldnae live without ye.”
“You are not a beast.”
“I am—”
She interrupted him. “No, Lyon. I mean it. I will not allow anyone to call my husband the Beast of the Oliphants, not when I am as scarred and hideous as he is.”
“Och, Bonnie, ye’re no’ hideous— Wait, ye think me hideous?” It was only then that he recognized her teasing smile, and his ears caught up with his brain. “Husband?” he whispered. “So ye’ll marry me?”
She placed her palms against his cheeks and smiled up at him. “Lyon, I love you very much. I am no longer a beauty, but you are no longer a beast. I would love to set off on a new adventure with you.”
“Marriage?”
“Yes, that, but also publishing.”
And Lyon Oliphant, ex-Beast of the Oliphants, felt an unfamiliar urge building in his chest. His lips parted, and a huff escaped them. Then a chuckle. Then, as Bonnie’s jaw dropped, a full-blown laugh burst from his chest.
It felt…cathartic—the pull of his scars as his shoulders heaved, his heart soaring as she threw her arms around him and began to laugh along with him.
He knew his brothers must be staring, but he didn’t care. He had the woman he loved in his arms—healthy and perfect—and the promise of a wonderful future together. How could he not be joyful?
She pulled him down for a kiss, and he obliged her, careful to keep his hands from her neck or head. It was hard not to crush her to him, but he knew the time would come soon enough, when she was healed fully, and their wedding vows had been spoken.
For now, he contented himself with the taste of love on her lips, and her perfect scent. He was certain he’d never get enough of kissing her.
His Bonnie lass.
After a long moment, he loosened his hold on her, and she pulled away just far enough to smile dazedly up at him. He took a deep breath.
“I love ye, Bonnie.”
“And I love you. Thank you for making all my dreams come true.”