Chapter 19
The warm night wind sent Lia’s hair dancing around her head, but the whipping strands never touched her face.
This was because her face was buried in her knees.
In trying to outrun a tsunami of humiliation, she had somehow ended up escaping Salamar manor through a back door and now found herself curled into a defensive ball at the top of a cliff overlooking the sea.
She could, just barely, over the crash of the waves and the rush of the wind, hear Carmilla’s haunting song floating up from somewhere in the bay.
Although she hoped the great sea beast would remain her only companion, the soft thump of footsteps on the grass behind her indicated otherwise. Maybe if she stood very, very still, whoever it was wouldn’t notice her.
“Hello,” came Tyrell’s voice from over her shoulder.
Lia swore under her breath.
“Don’t look at me,” she squeaked, tightening still more.
“I won’t,” Tyrell answered. “I, um, just wanted to give you something.”
She heard a shuffling as he took a seat on the grass beside her and waited for her answer. She had no intention of providing one. Every time she tried opening her mouth, she froze.
“Um, how about this,” Tyrell suggested. “I will look away, and then you can take it.”
A tiny, stifled laugh, managed to break through Lia’s mortification. She nodded.
“Alright, I’m not looking,” Tyrell said.
Lia glanced up to see that—true to his word—Tyrell’s face was indeed turned away from her toward Salamar manor, his hand, however, was stretched out toward her, clasping a daffodil.
Lia stared at the flower, then her eyes darted to his face, which of course, she couldn’t read since he was turned away.
Oh, what pity he must have felt to humor her like this.
“Take it,” Tyrell pleaded. “My neck is getting sore.”
Once again, a tiny chuckle broke through her embarrassment. She took the flower and kept her gaze fixed on it as she twirled the stem in her fingers.
“My Lord, you know that everything the princess said was nonsense, right? We’ve had such an eventful few days and—”
“It wasn’t all nonsense,” Tyrell interrupted.
Lia breathed deeply and then straightened up, delivering her reply with dignity and professionalism. “My Lord, I would never be so presumptuous as to fall in love with a man above my station.”
She managed a sideways glance at him, as she finished. He was watching her through steady, amber eyes, a slight smile touching his lips. His cheeks were still redder than usual but after Tavia’s outburst, who could blame him for that.
“I can’t speak to what she said about you,” Tyrell clarified. “I can only say that what she said about me was not nonsense in the slightest.”
Lia was now making the daffodil bloom spin back and forth, faster and faster matching the pace of her quickening heart.
He couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying, because that would be too wonderful to be real.
Somehow, with all the strange things that had happened that evening, she must have completely lost her mind and was now hallucinating a girlish fantasy.
“I do not know what you are talking about,” she replied stiffly.
Tyrell laced his fingers and tapped his thumbs together, lips scrunching a little. His eyes looked out over the sea as though he was searching for the right words. “For most of my life, I believed Princess Tavia was something that she wasn’t,” he finally said.
“Blonde?” Lia asked, the jest tumbling out of her mouth before she could hold it back.
Tyrell broke into a broad grin. “No, more like . . . a goddess.”
A torrent of laughter surged in Lia all at once. She scrunched her lips together to keep it contained, but unfortunately it made itself known by way of a short, sharp series of snorts. Tavia may have been royalty, but Lia had lived with her long enough to know that she was still very much human.
Tyrell smiled sheepishly. “I know,” he mumbled.
“Look, Princess Tavia is a great lady in her own way, but she is not a goddess. And, and even if she was, I do not think I want to marry a goddess anymore.” The speed of Tyrell’s thumb tapping suddenly increased tenfold. “I think, I’d rather marry a friend.”
A drop of rain splashed onto Lia’s sleeve sending goosebumps up and down her arm. “A friend?”
“Yes,” Tyrell confirmed. “A beautiful friend.”
“I suppose Lane is out then?” Lia mumbled, looking down at her still bent knees.
Tyrell exploded with laughter that made him flop sideways onto the grass. At that point, Lia forgot that she was too embarrassed to look him in the eye and indulged herself, taking pride in the streaks of tears on his cheeks. Really, she did not think her comment was that funny.
Tyrell breathed deeply, calming himself and then, jumping to his feet, offered Lia a hand.
It was lightly drizzling by now and, under normal circumstances, Lia might have suggested they go inside.
However, nothing about their current circumstances were in any way normal.
At the moment, the rain was the last of her concerns.
Instead of releasing Lia’s hand after she rose, Tyrell took the other one and tenderly squeezed them both.
“I no longer desire the woman waiting at the end of my adventure,” he whispered. “I desire the woman who went on the adventure with me.”
Lightning flashed across the sky briefly illuminating his face.
Lia wasn’t sure he could see hers, what with the wind tossing her hair in every direction and slapping it against her cheeks.
A thousand emotions whipped around inside Lia’s heart—a flurry of disbelief, fear, and joy sent streams of tears down her cheeks.
Somehow, someway, Tavia was right. Tyrell did love her and she had always loved him. The princess was a good friend—well maybe not a good friend considering her cruel manipulation, but at least as good of a friend as Lia had been to her, what with all the slander and harassment. Oh, what a mess!
“Have you forgotten who I am?” Lia wept, as she gazed into Tyrell’s eyes. “A great lord deserves a lady.”
“Well,” Tyrell shrugged. “Since you meet all of my mothers qualifications, I think she will allow me to provide the title.”
“You think so?” Lia breathed, heart flooding with joy.
“Of course!” he beamed. “My parents will love you. We’ll make you a lady with a maid all your own!”
“No,” Lia snapped. “No one touches my hair.”
With his tongue in his cheek, Tyrell caught one of Lia’s wind blown locks and tucked it behind her ear.
“The audacity . . .” she growled, melting into a dreamy smile.
Tyrell wrapped her in his arms, and Lia tilted her face up to meet his.
The touch of their lips must have ripped the heavens open, because at once a deluge poured down upon them.
Still, they lingered, with the wind howling, and the thunder clapping, and the rain drenching them through, each too lost in the other to care about the storm.
Lia hoped that all kisses felt this wonderful, and that it was not just the rain which was making this one perfect.
As if in answer to her thought, Lia heard the distant sound of an indignant scoff followed by the words, “No! No! No!”
She leaned away from Tyrell and looked back toward the manor where they saw Tavia and Julian watching them from just inside the doorway.
“Lia!” Tavia screamed, her face contorted with envy. “YOU CAN NOT BE SERIOUS!”
Lia, now a shivering, sopping mess, straightened up. “Thank you, princess, for everything!” she called. “But, I am very sorry, I am deadly serious!”
Then, she threw her arms around Tyrell’s neck and kissed him once again.