When Love Awaits

Chapter 48

The little boy was beautiful. Leonie saw him the moment she came downstairs after leaving Amelia's bedchamber. Rolfe was standing near the boy. The child had thick black curls, and the darkest brown eyes, which regarded her shyly as she approached him. He was an eight-yearold replica of Rolfe.

She turned a questioning gaze on Rolfe, and he said, "Before you reach the wrong conclusion, he looks like me because he is my nephew."

Leonie smiled. "How could I have thought otherwise?"

Frowning, Rolfe introduced her to Simon d'Ambert, then pulled Leonie aside. "I sent him to Lady Roese these last few days because I was in no mood to have him with me. But now you are here, so—"

"But you didn't tell me he was coming to visit."

"My brother is dead," Rolfe said simply, "and the child is not here only to visit. My brother and I had no great love for each other, but that is neither here nor there," Rolfe went on gruffly. "His widow was concerned for her children's welfare, and she sought me out. She left Gascony when my brother died and took refuge with a friend in Normandy. That is where I have been this last month, Leonie."

Her eyes widened. "Then that is why . . . I did wonder why it took you so long to come to Pershwick. So all that time you did not even know I was there?"

"Not until I returned to England. Sir Evarard sent messengers, but they didn't find me. My brother's widow was near undone with worry.

She trusted no one. She feared that powerful lords around Gascony would attempt to take control of her children or her in an effort to rape my brother's holdings."

"Was that likely?" she asked softly, glancing over at the child.

"No. The family lands in Gascony were held directly through the queen, and therefore through Henry. She need only have applied to Henry for a guardian."

"Or contact you."

"Yes, well, I have in fact agreed to take on the responsibility. I sent my three nieces back to Gascony with their mother, but I decided to keep the boy with me for a time. My brother had little time for him and he has been around women too long."

"There are women here, my lord," she teased.

"I want to get to know him, Leonie," Rolfe said brusquely. "Do you object?"

Leonie looked down at the floor, hiding her smile. "Of course not, my lord."

Rolfe shook his head. What had brought about this change in her?

Where was the hot-tempered woman of only that very morning? She was so subdued, so agreeable.

He continued warily, "I must find a man I can trust to send to Gascony to oversee the estates and keep a watchful eye on the widow and my nieces until they are ready for marriage."

"Might I suggest Sir Piers?" Leonie offered. "He is the perfect one to supervise a household full of women. He might even take a liking to the widow and think of marriage."

"Piers?Think of marriage? Never!"

"You never know, my lord. But now, please, leave Simon here in my care while you visit Lady Amelia."

Rolfe frowned. "I will tell her soon enough that she must leave here.

You need not think I have forgotten, Leonie."

"I did not think it, my lord. But she is—ill. I have warned her to stay abed for some days, perhaps a week."

He looked shocked, and before he could speak, she said firmly, "Go to her, my lord, for she needs to speak with you. But when you are finished"—she paused here—"come to me, for I have much to say to you."

Rolfe was so confused that he decided not to argue. He turned and went toward the stairs, and she watched him.

Leonie sat in the hall with Simon, talking gently to him. He was shy, and spoke very little. She tried to make him feel at ease, but that was awfully difficult because she was so jumpy herself.

Rolfe returned to the hall thirty minutes later, his temper nearly beyond his control. He said not a word to Leonie as he grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the hall and all the way to the garden. There he let her go, and actually kicked at the dandelions at his feet.

"Do you know how much I resented this garden of yours when you took it in hand?" he stormed. "Amelia told me you could not be bothered with the running of my household, yet you could waste time here! Many times I thought of setting my horse loose on these blasted plants!"

Leonie nearly choked on her laughter. "Your horse would have gotten very sick, indeed, if you had, my lord."

He glowered. "Do not jest, Leonie. Why did you think I asked you to clerk for me when I could have managed myself? I thought it was the only thing you could not refuse to do for me. You had refused everything else. And when it would have meant the world to me to know that you had made my home livable, you lethertake the credit! Why, Leonie, why?"

"Well, you were fool enough to believe she was capable of putting this place to rights," she said archly.

"I a fool, madame? What does that make you for believing the absurdity that I would not want you to run my household?"

"Another fool," she said.

"Damn me, I find nothing amusing in any of this! Why did you never once mention to me the nonsense she was telling you? She would have been proven a liar if you had spoken to me, and then you might have believed me when I told you I did not love her."

"I could ask you the same question. You believed her nonsense as much as I did."

"That is beside the point!"

"Is it?" She moved closer and hesitantly placed her hand on his chest.

Eyes soft and luminous, she asked, "Why are you so angry, my lord?"

He lost himself, gazing into those eyes. "Because— because I finally believe you love me . . . yet you have never said so. I have told you I love you—"

"When did you tell me?" she cried.

"That night in London."

"You were drunk," she insisted.

"Not so drunk I can't remember that. And I asked you if you could love me as well. It—it is your answer I cannot remember."

Joy washed over her, glorious waves of joy. "I said then that it would be very easy to love you," she said softly. "And so it was. I love you, my lord."

"Rolfe," he corrected automatically, even as he gathered her into his arms.

"Rolfe." She sighed breathlessly, and then her husband kissed her with all the warmth and love he felt.

He picked her up and carried her back through the hall and up to their chamber. Everyone who watched them pass smiled, but no one spoke. It was time to stop gossiping about the lord and his lady.

As Rolfe swept her up the stairs and into their room, she held him tightly and smiled, thinking how stubborn he was—as she was—and how gentle he was, yet how strong. Later, she would tell him about their child, and about the foolish pride that had kept them at odds for so long.

Later.

For the time being, she wanted to think only about their love, and show him how deeply and passionately she loved him.