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1. A place where one resides, dwells, or inhabits
2. Where little black-haired girls will take their first steps, and little brown-headed boys will read their first words, and a boisterous dog will ensure that Devlin almost never remains on two feet again
Chapter Twenty Four
A little more than a month later…
“Well, that was almost the single most satisfying experience of my life.”
With a little quirk to his lips, Devlin cocked a brow in Trixie’s direction. “We’ve made love in carriages at least ten times during the course of our extended honeymoon trip through Saphrone. What made this time so different?” he wondered.
Casting him a mock glare, his wife tartly replied, “I wasn’t speaking of this particular bit of carriage fun, thank you very much. I was referring to our trip in general.”
“But that was a great many satisfying experiences, not just one single experience,” he argued.
From one glance, Trixie knew he was biting his tongue, awaiting her scathing retort. He still hadn’t learned that it was best not to point out every discrepancy when she spoke, but to pick and choose his battles. Such a minor incident should not have warranted the start of a battle, and only because she was feeling particularly magnanimous after their last ‘bit of carriage fun,’ as she’d put it, did she not rise to the bait and start haranguing him for overusing his brain on her.
“As satisfying as the experiences were, I am very excited to be returning home.”
“Ah, yes, home,” Devlin agreed with an evasive murmur.
Yet another heated argument had ensued over the decision of where they would call home. Trixie had insisted they reside mainly at Raldem Estate, where she was still needed to help with the accounts. Jannicka had readily agreed to take over the accounting for at least half of the businesses in the province, leaving Trixie with far less than usual to do, but still enough work that she needed to remain in the area. When Devlin had politely suggested she hire a clerk, she had just as calmly told him to stuff his clerk up his rear end. And then cleverly pointed out that his family did not employ a clerk, and they were more than wealthy enough to do so. After which they got into a debate about whether or not it was better to hire a person to do one’s work—which was to ensure that neither King nor common man was cheated by taxes—or to do the work oneself.
They both won the argument. Not because either of them had any particularly good points, as they lost track of who was arguing which side about halfway through the battle. But they both won because the argument ended in a very hot and particularly wicked round of lovemaking, during which Devlin finally found out what came after the blindfold.
He liked it very much, indeed.
So Trixie insisted they must live at Raldem Estate, and if he so desired, they could stay at Wolfe House during the yearly celebrations. Which Devlin did not wish to attend again. Ever. Except even he had to concede that such a wish was not possible to grant after the King declared him a national hero for stepping in the line of fire to save the old man’s life. Such a public show of gratitude was no reward to Devlin. It only meant that if he didn’t show up to the celebrations next year, the King would be sorely disappointed, and he would certainly hear about it—from everyone.
Meanwhile Devlin kept insisting that she was perfectly capable of completing her work at Bryune Castle, and then they could stay at Thomasson House during the celebrations, his only request being that they remain in the house, locked in the bedroom, except for when they would attend the two main festivities at which they were expected.
Trixie had liked half of his idea, anyway.
In the end, she got sick of arguing. So she told him in blatantly female fashion that he could do whatever he wanted to do and it would be just fine with her. Which meant that if he didn’t do what she wanted to do, they would never speak again. Except when they made love, of course. Trixie had a decided tendency to moan and wail that could not be suppressed.
Now they were headed home, and her remark had been meant to elicit some sort of hint as to whether or not Devlin had done the intelligent thing, which would have been to agree with her idea, or the male thing, which would have been to do what he wanted to do anyway.
There was no telling with Devlin.
“Almost there,” he murmured a few minutes later.
“How can you tell? You haven’t looked out the window, or allowed me to do so, for nearly an hour now. And don’t give me that look. I do recognize when I am being maneuvered,” Trixie sniffed indignantly, for he had been cleverly manipulating her for the past hour to keep her from taking a peek. First by amusing her with stories of the trouble he and Douglass had caused as children when she was not there to command them, and then by all-out seducing her when she seemed to grow weary of storytelling. Every time she would so much as glance at the window, he would find a way to divert her.
She was sorely tempted to open the shutter just to spite him, but that would only ruin his surprise. Even though she already knew what that surprise was. He would never go to such lengths if he was taking her to Bryune Castle unless he wished to earn her eternal wrath. Surely he couldn’t be that stupid.
The carriage clattered to a halt, and two sharp raps signaled that they had reached their destination. From just behind them, they heard the sound of another carriage slowly stopping, this one containing Devlin’s servant Dian and Trixie’s new maid, Lianna. Lianna was entirely unrelated to Dian, although she did, apparently, come from the same village. One would never know from looking at her, as she was blissfully normal in all ways but one: she almost never spoke. Which made her convenient, as Trixie had fired her previous maid for saying too much.
They purchased a separate carriage because the servants had no desire to see the newlyweds pawing one another at every moment. They kept the separate carriages because, and this was only a suspicion of Trixie’s, the servants started having the urge to paw each other at every moment. One could hardly mistake the blushes afflicting the girl whenever Dian spoke, or the stars in the giant’s eyes whenever Lianna smiled.
It was cute, really, in a strange sort of way.
When Devlin flung the door to the carriage open, Trixie felt her heart sink into her chest.
Oh, no. He really was that stupid. Now she was going to have to be angry at him for the rest of her life—or at least until he changed his mind and turned back to Raldem Estate.
While she rarely paid much attention to the drives of other homes, she knew without a doubt that Raldem Estate’s main drive consisted of loose stones.
This drive was just plain dirt.
She stepped from the carriage, attempting to keep her expression composed while inside she gathered herself up for a blistering setdown.
By the time her feet hit the ground, she was completely speechless. Every word, every insult, died in her throat as her wide eyes fell upon the most picturesque home ever to grace Raldem. Or Bryune. She still was not quite sure where they were, but this was not Bryune Castle.
A simple two-story cottage was nestled between two small hills at the end of the drive, its white stone walls almost impossibly bright in the afternoon sunlight. The slate roof would be impervious to rain—unlike some areas of Raldem Estate—and each window had its own flower box, complete with multi-colored blooms to break the white monotony.
The door opened, and three people stepped out. One impossibly tall man, one impossibly wide woman, and another woman caught somewhere in between.
Trixie heard Dian’s shout of delight as he rushed to join the other servants. She wondered if he would cry again. Never in her life had she thought to see tears in the giant’s eyes, but when Devlin had ordered a surprise trip to his servant’s home village, the man had been positively awestruck by his master’s magnanimity. They spent two full days in the quaint village—with big huts—while Dian reminisced with his family, whom he was supporting with his wages.
Now that family was here. His stern father and large, boisterous mother and awkward sister.
“What…?” Trixie managed to start.
“Our butler, our cook, and housekeeper,” Devlin explained, and then nodded his head in the direction of the cottage. “And our house.”
“But…”
“I researched the matter extensively after our first argument, and I sent word to Douglass to coordinate the details with our new servants. That hill right there,” he pointed to the hill on the right, “is called Benwith Hill, and was claimed by the third Duke of Bryune as the border of his lands. That hill right there,” and he nodded towards the hill on the left, “is called Renwith Hill, and was immediately thereafter claimed by the third Duke of Raldem as the border of his lands. Which means, my dear, that our neat little cottage…”
“Is exactly in the middle,” Trixie finished, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears even as a grin spread across her face. “Oh, Dev, have I mentioned that I love you to distraction?”
“Only twice today.”
She turned to him and threw her arms around his neck, squealing with joy. “How did you manage this? Surely someone lived here before.”
“Not when Dian’s father appeared on their front doorstep with eight thousand dmons and that terrifying face of his.”
“Do not tell me that you had him frighten off the owners,” Trixie chided, although she lacked any amount of scolding to her voice.
“From what I understand, the eight thousand was enough to convince them to sell. The cottage was worth only about half of that. They’ll live quite comfortably. Elsewhere.”
Devlin led her into their new home, heart bursting with pride and joy at his wife’s overwhelming reaction to his surprise. She had never suspected his intentions, and now he had the benefit of witnessing all of her shock and wonder at what he had managed to prepare for her during the short duration of their honeymoon.
After allowing Dian’s sister to show them about the amply-spaced house, they ended the tour in the large bedroom they intended to share.
“And now, dear husband, I have a surprise for you,” Trixie said when they were finally alone.
“Is it particularly kinky?” he wondered with a devilish grin.
“Not even a little bit,” she assured him as she reached out and took his hand, pressing it flat against her belly. “Soon there will be need of that nursery down the hall.”
Devlin’s eyes widened, and he felt that seed of contentment bloom and grow within him at the thought of a little baby girl with black curls and enchanting green eyes pitter-pattering down the halls.
In her mind, Trixie was thinking of a shy little brown-headed boy with a slow smile that spoke of mischief, attempting to read a book upside-down at the tender age of two.
In no time at all, they were testing their new bed in celebration of the new life to come, lost in each other’s arms. After what felt like an eternity of pleasure, they nestled beneath the covers and waited patiently for one of the servants to bring them their evening meal. Eventually they would realize that the couple did not intend to make use of the dining room.
As they lay there, Devlin felt only one small kernel of blight on his happiness.
Douglass.
“When should we tell him?” he wondered quietly as he stroked his wife’s hair.
“I wondered when you would bring that up,” Trixie murmured. “You haven’t said a word about it since we left his home in Saphrone.”
“I’ve been thinking. Considering.”
“Hurting for him,” she added, snuggling closer to her husband, using her body to offer comfort. “Oh, Dev. The best way to break hard news is to simply come right out and say it. As quickly and as painlessly as possible.”
“If you had seen the look in his eyes when he told me, the torment this has caused him all these years,” Devlin whispered harshly, overcome in remembrance of it. Douglass had always been skilled at hiding his emotions, at maintaining a bland expression while silently giving life the finger. Seeing his brother hurting so openly had torn at him, until he had been forced to confess what Douglass had told him to Trixie in hopes that she could help.
She had agreed that going to see Douglass’s wife was the best course of action. Douglass would benefit from the knowledge that she was safe and content, which surely she would be, judging by the size of the home and the considerable allowance he had provided for her over the years. They had expected to find nothing amiss. Aylinn Wolfe would be nestled away in a room somewhere, taken care of by her kindly staff and an equally gentle nurse.
Life is rarely what one expects.
“You must tell him, Devlin. As soon as possible,” Trixie insisted.
“At least she wasn’t unhappy,” he said on a sigh.
“Not at all,” she agreed. No one could have mistaken the quiet contentment in Aylinn’s almost eerily peaceful sapphire eyes.
“We will have to think of something clever. He is bound to be angry at first. He was clearly deceived, after all, though I did not have the guts to ask her if she knew why. Likely she was unaware of her stepmother’s perfidy, but surely there is a way we can turn this unfortunate circumstance into something positive,” he persisted.
Trixie brushed a hand against her husband’s rough cheek with a fond smile. “I would like to make Douglass happy too, love. He has given me everything I have ever wanted in life.”
He looked directly into her eyes as he agreed, “Me, too.”
“But I fear it is probably too late for his marriage. After all these years, no sane woman could ever forgive him his startling number of infidelities. It’s one thing to sow wild oats, but to cultivate an entire field of them…” She shrugged.
Thinking on that, Devlin stared out the window in their room at the setting sun, a sun that would, at dawn, return anew into the world. Shouldn’t everyone be offered a chance for a new beginning? Even someone as dissipated as Douglass deserved a second chance at life. At happiness. At love.
They would have to work on those later, however. The first order of business was how, for the love of Dmond, he was going to tell his brother that his wife was not simple. That she was, in fact, perfectly intelligent and rational. That he’d spent the last eight years thinking that his wife was the one woman he could never have again, and through his own attempts to run from the past, had quite possibly assured that she was the one woman he would never have again.
With a sigh, Devlin closed his eyes and tightened his hold on the rambunctious woman dozing in his arms. Tomorrow, he vowed, they would solve the matter. Tonight, he wanted nothing more than to enjoy his new wife, his new home, and the new and incredible life fluttering within his wife’s belly.
Life was good.
