Fairydale: A Dark Gothic Fantasy Romance
Fairydale: Part 2 – Chapter 21

The snow has blanketed the entire courtyard, the horizon all white. I release a satisfied sigh as I huddle deeper into my blanket, cupping the hot cocoa in my palms.

‘I have the cards,’ Amon declares as he enters the room.

‘And I have your cup,’ I wink at him as I move from the window, taking a seat at the table by the fireplace and pushing his cup in front of him.

His brows go up in curiosity. Taking the cup from me, he brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply before taking his first sip.

‘I still can’t believe you’ve never had hot cocoa before.’

‘My palate is decidedly common,’ he chuckles. ‘But of course I will drink it if you’ve made it for me.’

‘So?’ I look at him expectantly. ‘How is it?’

‘Sweet,’ he pauses, his lips curling up in a smile. ‘Somehow it tastes like you,’ he drawls.

The rogue!

‘You’re such a charmer,’ I wave my hand at him, though a blush climbs up my cheeks.

His eyes sparkle at me as he takes another sip—this time bigger.

But as he puts the cup down, I can’t help the giggle that escapes me.

‘What?’ He asks, a suddenly serious expression on his face.

Somehow that makes it worse, the brown stains from the cocoa resembling mustaches on his pale skin. And as he purses his lips, they move, too.

‘What is it?’ He repeats, thoroughly confused.

I barely manage to subdue my laugh as I stand up, still smiling as I head over to his side. Seeing me come to him, he pushes the table further away to allow me to sit on his lap, which I promptly do, wounding my arms around his neck.

‘What are you finding amusement in, wife?’ he demands in a low, gravelly tone that makes my insides tingle.

Giving him a mischievous look, I lean forward, licking the cocoa stains.

He keeps himself still as he lets me clean him thoroughly with my tongue.

Leaning back, I glance at his face, not surprised to find his eyes swirling red and black—as they do when his emotions are out of control.

A small gasp escapes me as I move against him. His hardness is poking in my backside, the heat emanating from him threatening to be my undoing.

Just as I see him about to pounce on me, I jump out of his lap, heading back to my seat as I take the deck of cards and start shuffling them.

His eyes are boring into me, the atmosphere tense, the air growing hotter.

‘Let’s play,’ I say, a little breathless.

Licking my lips, I taste the sweetness of the cocoa and that flavor that is specifically his.

‘Here,’ I push his cards towards him when I note he isn’t speaking, merely watching me intently. I take hold of my own, and I do my best to focus on the game.

Four years of being his wife—of being his in any way possible—and every time we’re together still feels like the first time.

I’d never had great expectations about what marriage would entail. Especially considering the abysmal model my parents had set. But then I’d never imagined myself married to him—my Amon. I’d certainly never believed anyone could be as loving, attentive, or sweet as him.

Slowly, he takes his cards off the table, sparing them a brief glance before his eyes find mine again, the irises completely black.

As I try to focus on my own hand, I hear one whispered word.

‘Run.’

My eyes widen as I whip my gaze to him, finding him on the verge of snapping.

Pushing my chair back, I let my blanket drop as I start running, heading for the gallery and losing myself among the many sculptures.

Amon doesn’t strain himself as he merely puts one foot in front of the other, trailing after me slowly. His lips are drawn into a predatory smile, his teeth gleaming dangerously.

My pulse picks up as I feel his energy swirl around us.

With his powers, he could easily find me in a second. But that’s not what our game is about. It’s all about the thrill and the slow build of the anticipation that now simmers in my veins.

My Amon is a born warrior, a predator that lives for the thrill of the chase.

Looking back, I note him walking slowly towards me, his hands slowly going to his shirt as he pops open the buttons.

I emulate his movements, my fingers pulling at the simple laces that hold my gown together. Just as he yanks his shirt off, I let my own dress pool to the floor, remaining in nothing but a cotton shift.

Next, his hands are on his trousers, and my breath catches in my throat, my belly tightening with desire.

I’m past the gallery when I look back to see him discard his pants on the cold tiled floor, standing before me entirely naked and aroused.

Slipping the straps of my shift off my shoulders I let it fall to the ground just as I step inside the conservatory.

There is a narrow path between beds of plants and flowers and I turn around, walking backwards as I zone in on him.

The scent from the flowers wafts towards me, the atmosphere intoxicating despite being the beginning of winter. But my husband would never neglect them. Knowing how much joy they bring me, he ensures that they are perfectly healthy all year round in spite of the ever changing climate.

The rule is simple.

Here, in our conservatory, no plant dies—ever.

As I reach the end of the path, he appears in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame and giving me a languid smile as he lets his eyes roam all over my body, his gaze stopping on my breasts, the mark that mars my flesh and the necklace that completes me.

To give him a better show, I take a seat on the bench at the far end of the conservatory, my hands on my knees as I slowly part my legs for him.

A growl echoes in the enclosed space, the sound vibrating through me.

My lips pull in a smile as I let my eyes wander up and down his body, too. He is so deliciously masculine, I don’t think I could ever get tired of the sight before me—not even for an eternity.

His tall form and well defined muscles make my mouth water. I study his wide shoulders and those strong arms that can snuff the life out of me, but can also give it back with one simple embrace. Going lower, his abdominals are as defined as that of a Greek God statue—even more so. They are equally as hard to the touch, but warm where the statues are cold.

He is all flesh and fire, masculine ferocity and predatory energy that gets my pulse to spike with desire laced by an ever present current of fear.  Yet it’s never that he will hurt me. It’s that he will not reach for me—that he will not take me.

I lick my lips suggestively as my eyes go lower, to the hardness straining against his stomach, the size as daunting as the thick metal ring attached to the head.

‘Lizzie,’ he rasps harshly.

Moisture accumulates at the junction of my thighs as I crook one finger, beckoning him closer.

He wastes no time in coming to me, and despite the strain of his muscles and the want that drips from his gaze, he is in no hurry. He takes his time as he slowly approaches me, all the while eating me up with his eyes.

‘Where are you taking me for Christmas this year?’ I murmur softly as he kneels in front of me.

His eyes close, his nostrils flaring as he brings his face to my body, inhaling my scent.

‘A surprise,’ he says heavily, the tension mounting with every little movement as I wonder where he’ll attack first.

‘You won’t tell me?’ I ask in an innocent voice. ‘Not even if I…’ I trail off as I bring my lips to his neck, parting them over his flesh and sucking it in before biting it gently. I repeat the action as I move down his chest. ‘Tell me…’ I coax.

Every year, he surprises me with a destination for the Christmas celebrations since he knows how much I enjoy the holidays. Last year he’d taken me to Prussia and we’d attended a wonderful Christmas celebration, enjoying the buoyant market and local traditions.

‘You little minx. You’re trying to seduce it out of me, aren’t you?’ he chuckles, bringing his mouth to my ear and nibbling at my lobe. ‘It’s called a secret for a reason, Lizzie mine. You won’t get a word out of me.’

‘You know I do love a challenge,’ I tell him, my eyes sparkling with mischief.

He shakes his head in amusement, but catching him off guard, I push him down.

His back meets the floor, his eyes wide with curiosity as he sees me climb on top of him.

‘I bet you I can change your mind,’ I say as I trace a finger down his rock hard muscles.

‘And I want to see you try,’ he growls, almost in pain as I shift over his erection, placing the head of his cock between my wet folds, his ring brushing against my sensitive bud at the right spot. Moving up and down, I watch his features darken, his breathing intensifying.

I rest my palms on his hard pectorals as I increase the rhythm, feeling myself get closer and closer to that pinnacle.

My lips part as low moans escape me.

‘That’s it, Lizzie mine. Fuck, I love it when you take your pleasure from me,’ he groans, his hands cupping the sides of my hips, squeezing my flesh as he urges me on.

‘Amon,’ I moan out loud as I shatter into a million pieces.

I barely come down from my high and I find myself on my back, his hand around my throat as he positions his cock at my entrance.

‘Mrs. Creed!’ A distant noise penetrates my euphoria-filled mind. Vaguely, I hear knocking and screaming.

But I don’t have to say anything as Amon is already on his feet, materializing clothes for himself and for me. Dressing quickly, he leads me to the main entrance, his hand on the small of my back as he lays a kiss on my forehead.

‘We’ll resume this later,’ he whispers in my hair as he opens the door.

Mr. and Mrs. Dunn, a couple from the village, are waiting anxiously for us. Mrs. Dunn is holding her newborn baby close to her chest, her face red from the cold.

‘Oh, Mrs. Creed,’ she bursts out when she sees me, tears appearing at the corners of her eyes. Her infant is crying uncontrollably in her arms, no matter how much she’s trying to sway or pacify him.

‘Come in,’ I tell them immediately, urging them inside by the fireplace. ‘Get warm first.’

Amon is quietly standing behind me, letting me do the talking as usual.

I don’t know if he has a hard time interacting with people who are not me, but he prefers to keep to the shadows, watching, observing.

Though he is the man of the manor, he relegates all the domestic power to me, telling me I can run the house as I see fit. That power also extends to the village and our interactions with the people living around us.

I know Amon prefers solitude, and for us to be separated from the world—all alone in our little bubble. But for me, he’d promised to make an effort. Especially as he knows I cannot sit by and watch people suffer when we have the ability to do something for it. Whether it is money, or medicine, or food, we’re always willing to help.

After all, I’d told him long ago that I do not care for riches, or for what he is able to provide for me. I only care about him—us. The fact that we are together against all odds.

We could be paupers for all I care. Maybe we’d have to work a little harder, but the satisfaction at being together would be the same. The winters would be just as warm with the heat of his body alone.

‘What is the matter?’ I ask as I hurry to Mrs. Dunn’s side.

‘It’s Little Johnny. He won’t stop crying. He’s been like this for the past two days and we haven’t been able to calm him. He won’t even nurse,’ she cries just as the baby continues to wail in her arms.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I murmur. ‘May I?’ I motion to the bundle in her arms.

She gives a brisk nod as she carefully places the baby in my arms.

His little face is a splotchy red from crying, his skin dry and dehydrated.

‘Mayhap you could help him with a potion or something,’ Mrs. Dunn suggests coyly. ‘You helped Mrs. Saunders’ baby a few months back and she’s been telling everyone that you’re a miracle healer,’ she fires rapidly at us, her husband nodding alongside her.

‘I only work with what I know, Mrs. Dunn. I am familiar with medicinal plants, but I am no physician.’

‘Mr. Daniels already saw Little Johnny and he said he couldn’t do anything,’ she sighs, dabbing the tears from her eyes. ‘You’re our last chance, Mrs. Creed. If only he could eat something…’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I murmur, looking down into the sweet face of the infant crying in my arms.

My heart squeezes in my chest at the sight, and despite my best efforts, I can’t help but find myself overwhelmed by emotion as I hold him tightly, swaying with him in an attempt to calm him.

‘Come with me to the kitchen, will you?’ I give her a tight smile as I lead her to the back of the house.

For all my knowledge of healing herbs, I must admit to not being an expert on children. After all, I have none of my own.

A hole opens in my very soul as that thought crosses my mind, an emptiness assailing me.

Amon is immediately there, his hand on my back as he gently massages my skin, his touch revitalizing. But even his presence fails to fill me with the usual joy as I am faced with my very failure.

‘Shh, Little Johnny,’ I whisper, trying to think what could ail him.

It seems his fit of crying is so intense, he isn’t able to get proper rest or nutrition. And when he wears himself out he only sleeps for a few hours before he’s back to crying uncontrollably again.

‘Can you do something?’ Mrs. Dunn is watching me with a hopeful expression, the black circles under her eyes obvious. Both her and her husband have probably been unable to sleep due to Little Johnny’s crying, and worry that this could be a symptom of something worse.

‘I have a calming tincture. We could put a few drops on his tongue, maybe it will help?’ I offer uncertainly.

Though I have treated plenty of people in the past, I am still wary about children since I have neither the experience nor knowledge. They are so small, gentle and frail that I always second guess myself when handling them. Yet despite that, I push forward, wanting to do my best so they can recover and be healthy.

Laying a kiss to his brow, I pass him to Mrs. Dunn while I grab my tincture.

‘If you could hold his mouth open,’ I instruct her.

It takes us a few tries as Little Johnny becomes increasingly more agitated, but we manage to get some drops on his tongue, which he swallows.

‘It’s valerian-based, so it should help him calm down a little. But the effect is not immediate,’ I purse my lips.

‘Thank you,’ Mrs. Dunn tells me sincerely. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs. Creed.’

‘Thank me if it works,’ I tell her tightly, inviting both her and her husband to our drawing room.

Since we don’t generally hire staff during the winter, Amon takes over as he feeds the fire and prepares some hot tea for our guests.

‘You’re a wonder,’ I lean in to whisper as I see him carefully add the tea to the boiling water. What other man of his station would do this?

None.

But he is not intimidated by any type of work, lowly or otherwise. For him, a chore is a chore just like a person is a person. Despite passing himself off as a nobleman for a long time, he confessed that he has no affection for their station.

Setting a few teacups on a tray, I bring them to the drawing room.

Yet as we enter the room, I’m shocked to find it entirely quiet.

Mrs. Dunn sends me a shocked glance before looking down at her son who is currently nursing peacefully from her breast.

‘You’re a miracle, Mrs. Creed,’ she whispers, her throat clogged. ‘He… He’s nursing. He hasn’t nursed in so long,’ she sniffles a sob. ‘Thank you. Thank you,’ she bows her head.

They don’t end up staying, deciding to go back home. But not before both give me their thanks again.

‘It’s true what they say about you, Mrs. Creed,’ Mr. Dunn stops in the doorway. ‘You’re the village’s fairy godmother,’ he tips his hat at me before they are both gone.

When the door closes, however, I slowly make my way to the drawing room, taking a seat by the fireplace. Amon, too, does the same, sitting opposite me.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ I inquire softly.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he flashes me a smile.

‘I know it was you,’ I smile. ‘That tincture could not have acted so fast, and I was already uncertain whether it would work or not.’

‘Does it matter? The baby is nursing, and should be fine from now on.’

‘You probed his mind, didn’t you?’ I continue, curious what he’d done.

He grunts.

‘I merely infused his mind with tranquility,’ he confirms a moment later.

Releasing a weary sigh, I stand up, coming to his side and laying my head on his chest.

‘Ah, Amon. We’ll never be so blessed to have a child, will we?’ I inquire softly, though I know the truth deep in my heart.

‘Lizzie,’ he says my name in an anguished tone. ‘You know… I told you…’

‘I know,’ I whisper, my spirits plummeting. ‘I know, and yet I still hope. How foolish is that of me?’

‘It’s not,’ he declares staunchly, wrapping his arms around me.

‘I know it’s impossible, but why do I still feel this deep disappointment in my heart whenever I see a babe? Rationally, I can accept it. But emotionally…’ I trail off as my voice breaks.

‘Goddamn it, Lizzie. This is all my fault,’ he rasps against me just as sobs rack my body. Slowly at first, before everything I’d held inside crashes down on me.

‘No, Lizzie mine. Please, love, don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart,’ Amon murmurs.

‘I…’ hiccup, ‘can’t…’ hiccup, ‘stop…’

‘Damn it,’ Amon curses as he brings his lips to my face, kissing my forehead, my eyes, before licking my tears with his tongue. ‘One day, Lizzie. One day we will have a child,’ he promises raggedly, even as he knows the words to be useless. But though they are for my benefit only, I find myself agreeing—even if it might be the height of delusion.

‘We will, won’t we?’ I sniffle. ‘A piece of both of us,’ I continue, letting myself dream, just as the tears continue to pour down my cheeks.

My dear husband listens and soothes me, validating my hopes and dreams and promising me a better future.

Yet it all makes me feel even worse.

I have everything a person could ever want, yet I’m still dissatisfied.

What does that say about me?

It’s why I always try to push these thoughts down and not dwell on my unhappiness, rather embrace what makes me happy.

Yet it’s not easy when all around me people are having children. When all the women gather together to speak about their children. When in this world, the sole purpose of a woman is to bear children.

When I look at myself through that prism, I only see failure. Inadequacy.

And of course, there are those questions.

When are you having children?

You’ve been married quite some time already, when will the children come?

More often than not, the question is tinged with the unspoken—are you ever having children? And if the answer to that question is no, regardless of want, ability, or chance, then there must be something wrong with you.

Carefully picking me up in his arms, Amon flashes us back to our bedroom, placing me on the bed while he tends to the bathroom, fetching hot water and filling the tub with it.

When he is done, he undresses me slowly, lowering me into the bathtub before stepping back and removing his own clothes to join me.

My eyes are red from crying, my throat hurting with every little sound I make.

‘Don’t speak,’ Amon whispers softly as he caresses my cheek. ‘I’ll take care of you, my sweet girl,’ he gives me a gentle smile. ‘I know what’s missing from your life—from both our lives—but I’ll do my best to fill that gap for you. I’ll always do my best to make you the happiest you can be.’

My lips tremble as I attempt a smile for his benefit.

‘I am. You’re the only thing in my life that brings me joy, Amon. Now and ever. You know that, don’t you?’ I push down my sadness so I can be present in the moment.

More than anything, I shouldn’t be selfish about this—not when it’s something that affects both of us. It’s not only me that cannot have children, but him, too. We’re both in the same situation and though he doesn’t always voice his sadness I know it to be just as great as mine.

Oh, God, but what a wonderful father Amon would make.

He would be absolutely magnificent. I am sure of it.

He brings the soap to my skin, slowly lathering it on my skin.

I let out a small purr as I give myself over to the sensation of his hands on my body, his presence the only balm to my battered heart.

Amon can sense the turmoil in my heart and as is his nature, he tries to overcompensate by making me happy in whatever way he can. God, but I know he would give me the moon in the sky if I asked for it. Yet for all his powers, we’re both useless in the face of fickle fate.

‘I love you,’ I tell him later as he lays me in bed, hugging me close to him.

‘I love you too, Lizzie mine. Always.’

Though we don’t speak of the issue again, it remains looming in the horizon, my mood slowly going downhill the more I dwell on it.

Our first year of marriage had been absolutely perfect. I’d been so lost in the happiness of the present that I hadn’t spared a moment’s thought to the fact that I was not getting pregnant. After all, that was something taken for granted with a married couple. And with the frequency of our bedroom activities, I’d thought it a given that it should happen at some point.

Until I started questioning why it wasn’t happening.

He was spilling his seed inside of me every coupling, yet nothing seemed to take root.

It was when the second year mark was approaching that I finally mustered the courage to ask him if there was something wrong with me.

Though he’d told me all about our past, he hadn’t mentioned one detail.

The fact that I could never have children.

As I’d heard the explanation, I understood the ramifications of the decision, and that I’d given that up to be with him. And so because I had him, I didn’t dare think too much on it, on the off chance regret would surge forward.

If someone mentioned children, I would push the thought down.

If someone asked me questions about children, I put on a smile and changed the topic.

Even in my own head, I did my best to thrust that topic aside.

Yet because I’d stifled my own desires for so long, once they reached the surface, they couldn’t be contained anymore.

Amon, my sweet husband, does his best to cheer me up. He senses that I’m drifting farther and farther away—from him, from us, from everything—so he doubles his efforts to help me overcome this rough patch.

Except things get exponentially worse when I receive a letter from my mother the day before Christmas.

‘What’s wrong?’ Amon’s eyes widen as he comes across me, tear-eyed and inconsolable.

‘My sister and her husband are dead,’ I whisper bleakly, still unable to fully internalize information. ‘Of course, due to the timing of the letter, they’ve already been dead for weeks.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he immediately comes to my side, taking me in his arms.

‘The children, Amon. What will they do? My mother says she will take them in, but she doesn’t seem quite certain of it,’ I add on a trembling voice.

‘How old are they?’

‘The boys are ten and twelve. The youngest is only a few months old.’

He’s silent for a few moments before he offers his suggestion—one that makes my heart swell with hope in my chest.

‘What if we took them in?’

I draw back, blinking in surprise.

‘You’re… You’re serious? You wouldn’t mind that?’

He shakes his head.

‘It would be nice to have some young ones around the house, wouldn’t it?’ he smiles. ‘I’m sure we could manage the logistics. I’d probably have to change my hairstyle,’ he chuckles, referring to the fact that everyone knows Jeremiah Creed to be dark-haired.

‘Tell me you’re not joking about this,’ I breathe out in awe.

‘I would never,’ he tells me vehemently. ‘In fact, why don’t we go back to England on Monday? We can say we were already en-route to visit and we didn’t get the letter and you can convince your mother to give us custody of the children.’

‘Amon,’ I pause, my voice crackling from too much emotion. ‘You’re so good to me. Thank you. Thank you,’ I tell him profusely as I palm his cheeks, laying a hard kiss on his lips. ‘I love you. So, so much. Thank you,’ I repeat.

Though I am undoubtedly sad to hear of my sister’s passing—in a carriage accident no less—I can’t help but think this might be our only chance in life to be parents.

I’d met the boys when they were younger, but it’s been four years. I do hope they are agreeable to live with us.

As promised, Amon transports us to London on the following Monday. We don’t immediately go visit my mother as we need to procure lodgings first and Amon needs to change his look.

When we visit the following day, my mother is thrilled to see us, but she is clearly deeply upset about Olivia’s passing. And I can’t blame her. She’s always been her favorite, and she was going to carry on the family legacy within the coven.

With my bound abilities, I can’t even count as second best.

We give our condolences, after which I ask my mother for a private meeting.

‘Oh, Elizabeth, it’s so good you’re here,’ she sighs. ‘I’ve been going crazy with grief by myself. Your brother is away at Cambridge and I’ve been beside myself with worry for the children. I’m already in my fifties as it is. I can’t raise another brood—a baby no less!’

I nod, giving her my sympathies, and nodding along to everything she says. Somehow, I know I won’t even have to suggest the custody issue since she is well on her way to do so.

‘You and Jeremiah don’t have any children,’ she bits her lip, her eyes teary. ‘Wouldn’t you be better off taking care of them than me?’ she finally asks on a tentative note. ‘Can’t you ask your husband about it?’

I pretend to mull it over for a minute.

‘My husband would be fine with it, mother. We’d love to have the children around if they didn’t mind moving across the ocean…’ I trail off.

That is my only doubt regarding this entire situation. The boys are old enough to know what they are leaving behind and I would never dream about splitting the siblings up if they do not agree to come together.

‘They will,’ she’s quick to assure me, and I realize she truly does not want to worry about them. ‘The only condition I have,’ she pauses, her cheeks red. ‘When Lydia comes of age, you’ll have her visit me? She needs to learn about her heritage and the legacy she’s carrying on her shoulders.’

‘Of course,’ I give her a tight smile.

‘The boys already know more or less,’ she continues, and my eyebrows go up in surprise.

Well, it seems I was the only one who did not know anything.

‘They do?’

‘Olivia wanted them to know from early on,’ she releases a loud sniffle. ‘Mind you, it’s never a prerequisite for men to be told in our family, but we prefer to do it so they can be aware of what’s happening around and, at times, offer protection. Olivia knew she would have a daughter at some point and she wanted them to be ready and know that their mission is to protect her.’

‘That’s a very good idea,’ I nod. ‘Do you know what gifts Lydia might have?’

‘Goodness, no. It’s too early. She’s only three months old, Elizabeth. But the moment she exhibits her first gifts you must write to me, alright?’

‘Of course.’

We spend a little more time talking and delineating everything she wants me to know, and in an act of unprecedented kindness, she offers some books from her collection.

‘To guide Lydia,’ she nods.

Knowing how keen my mother is on her coven business, and especially on having someone to carry the name further, it seems entirely too odd that she would let me raise Lydia an ocean away.

Yet as I dwell on that a little more, my questions are answered over dinner, when Fiona introduces a certain General Powell, who happens to be a friend of hers.

Of course, the manner in which they behave is clearly more than friendly, and I soon understand why she wouldn’t have time for children.

That isn’t to say I’m begrudging her for it. After surviving my father, she deserves to be happy in any way she can. If this General can do that, then I will be supporting her decision.

But even as the issue with my mother is solved, there is still the matter of the children.

‘I’m not taking them with us if they don’t agree, Amon,’ I tell him the night before we are to meet them. ‘What if the boys don’t like us? What if they don’t want to move to America? There are so many things at stake…’

‘What is there not to like about you, love? You’re the warmest person I know. They will love you just as I do and I am sure they will eventually get used to the move. Certainly, they must still be in shock after the death of their parents, so we can only go at their pace.’

‘You’re right,’ I nod, placing my head on his chest. ‘I feel so bad, you know,’ I breathe out, feeling a sliver of discomfort.

‘Why?’ he asks, his chest rumbling with deep vibrations.

‘My sister just died and all my thoughts are on the children. I feel a little…selfish,’ I admit.

‘Lizzie…’

‘It’s true. I’ve barely had time to mourn her before we set out with this plan. Not to say that I’m not happy about it, but I feel guilty getting this small happiness while my sister and her husband are gone. The children lost their parents…’ I trail off, not knowing how to put into words what I’m feeling.

There’s a mix of sadness, guilt and joy all mingled together and I don’t know on which to focus.

Do I succumb to grief? Or do I try to forget and focus on the positives—making sure the children are well?

The questions seems to be harder to answer the next day when Amon and I meet them.

My mother isn’t present, but she’d left instructions to the wet nurse to present Lydia to me. The boys are still at Haversham, but she’d sent word out for them to be returned to London as soon as possible.

‘You do know our entire life is going to change from now on,’ I whisper to Amon as we anxiously wait to meet Lydia.

‘For the better,’ he winks at me, giving me an assuring hand squeeze.

‘My Lady,’ a girl curtsies as she comes into the room carrying the babe.

‘I’m Mrs. Creed now,’ I wave my hand.

Curiosity eats at me as I bite my lip, waiting for her to come closer.

‘This is baby Lydia,’ she says as she hands her to me.

Amon is behind me, his body heat enveloping me as he shows his silent support.

Carefully, I take her into my arms, my heart immediately bursting with love as I look into her sweet face.

She has a tuft of dark hair on top of her head, her eyes a deep blue. As she takes me in, her eyes grow wide, just as her mouth spreads into a big grin. She’s the prettiest baby I’ve ever seen and God…now she’s mine.

‘Hello, Lydia,’ I coo softly, and she releases a giggle as she takes my hand in hers, her small palm curling around my finger.

‘Look,’ I tell Amon, my lashes wet with tears of happiness.

‘I think she likes you,’ he whispers, his eyes equally as entranced as he looks down at her. ‘She looks like you, Lizzie.’

‘She does, doesn’t she?’ I murmur, still shocked by the intimacy of the moment and the pure emotion that bursts forth in my chest.

‘Is it crazy that I already love her?’ I ask stupefied by my own reaction to the baby.

‘Never,’ he shakes his head.

I cradle her to my chest for what feels like forever before I turn to my husband.

‘Here, you can hold her, too,’ I wipe my eyes and nose as I hold her out for him.

He looks slightly alarmed as his gaze swings between me and the babe.

‘Hold her like this,’ I show him how to hold her head, and he gives me a brisk nod.

Though still a little uncertain, Amon picks Lydia up with so much care, you wouldn’t think he’s a powerful warrior with extraordinary abilities. And when he holds her closer to his chest, cradling her little head and gazing down at her, I know I’ve fallen in love with him again.

Tears spring in my eyes anew as I realize this is what I’ve been wanting all along.

A family.

This family.

‘She’s our daughter now,’ Amon whispers in awe.

‘She is. And she will be very, very loved,’ I add, dabbing at my tears.

We spend more time with her as she laughs at every little gesture we make before her wet nurse tells us she must take her nap.

Reluctantly, we part with her for the rest of the afternoon so she can get her sleep.

Unfortunately, due to the fact that we’ll be traveling with the children, too, we will have to go back to America via ship, which will not be the most pleasant process, especially for a baby.

With Lydia sleeping, Amon and I decide to head out and do some shopping for the voyage and ensure we have everything we need. I am particularly excited about getting some fabrics for baby Lydia to make her little outfits.

‘You can buy those, too, you know,’ Amon mentions when we get to a fabric shop.

‘What’s the joy in that? I’ve always wanted to make baby clothes from scratch. I just…’

Never had the chance, or hope before.

He purses his lips, giving me a tight smile.

We go from shop to shop to get everything I had in mind. Amon trails behind me, putting up with all my whims in a way that I start feeling sorry for him.

‘You didn’t need to accompany me, you know,’ I add when I see him blank out at the milliner.

‘And leave you alone?’ he narrows his eyes at me. ‘Never.’

Shaking my head at him, I proceed to pick a few hats for everyone in the family. As we get to pay, I notice the clerk is a little sluggish, his gaze drifting from the hats to me and back to the hats.

For a moment I wonder if he thinks I cannot afford them since I’m not wearing the most fashionable clothes at the moment.

Yet a low, ominous sound from behind me takes me completely by surprise.

‘Did you just growl?’ I ask on a whisper.

‘He was looking at you too much,’ he shrugs, his tone biting.

The clerk, seeing Amon put his arm over my shoulder in a way that is entirely improper, blushes profusely before packing all the other hats with renewed swiftness.

Realizing the clerk somehow triggered him, I simply take his arm as we head out with our purchases, deciding to call it a day. After all, I cannot wait to get back to baby Lydia.

We spend the rest of the day with her, watching the wet nurse and learning everything I can from her despite the fact that she will have to join us—Lydia still needs to nurse.

Yet it’s the following day that has me on pins and needles when we’re told the boys have arrived from Haversham.

Though I’d met them before, I want to introduce them to Amon as well, and make sure they are comfortable with the arrangement.

At noon, we’re called to the drawing room. Their governess is with them, instructing them to be polite.

‘Hello,’ I add tentatively.

‘Say hello, boys, and introduce yourselves,’ the governess chides.

‘Hello, I am Abraham,’ the elder of the boys says, a small smile on his lips.

The other, though, doesn’t seem inclined to say anything.

Abraham elbows him in the side.

‘I am Abel,’ he mutters under his breath.

I give them both a wide smile. From the first, I can tell that Abel will be the hardest to get across. But I decide to make it my mission to get both boys to accept us.

‘I am your aunt, Elizabeth, and this is my husband,’ I motion towards Amon. ‘We’re so sorry about Olivia and Jonathan’s passing,’ I add, pursing my lips. ‘We were wondering if you’d like to come live with us.’

Both of them are silent, only looking at us.

Wetting my lips, I feel my anxiety climbing as I try to find the right words for them.

‘What your aunt is trying to say is that I have a castle in America and we’d very much like you to join us. There’s a lot of space to fill,’ Amon winks at them.

Abraham chuckles, but Abel maintains the same aloof expression.

‘Will Lydia come, too?’ Abraham asks.

‘Of course,’ I nod. ‘She’s just a baby and she needs a mother. I was hoping I could fill that role for her,’ I explain carefully. ‘That doesn’t mean that I’m trying to replace your parents in any way. But if you’d let us, we’d love to welcome you into the family.’

‘If Lydia’s coming, I’m coming too,’ Abraham declares, looking at Abel for his opinion.

‘I’m coming,’ he grumbles under his breath, seemingly unconvinced.

We spend some time with them describing our life in America and what they can expect by moving in with us.

Amon does most of the talking and by the end of the day, he has both Abraham and Abel eating from his hand, despite the fact that the younger one still seems a little reticent.

Yet as our preparations come to an end, it’s time to head back home.

No one is looking forward to close to a month of travel aboard a ship. But as we book a full suite on a passenger ship, I’m grateful for the close quarters as we can become more acquainted with the children.

During the day, I’m mostly busy with Lydia while Amon plays games with the boys, teaching them different card games and amazing them with his infinite knowledge.

As I watch him with them, I can’t help but smile and feel myself fulfilled for the first time in a long time.

It takes us a little under a month to get to Boston, after which we take the train to Ipswich and hire a hackney to take us home.

The kids are becoming increasingly excited as they see the surroundings, especially when we get to the manor. Both Abraham and Abel are sporting awed expressions as we get out of the carriage.

‘So, what do you think of our little castle?’ Amon asks them as we walk towards the entrance.

‘It’s…not little,’ Abel answers, and we all laugh.

Despite a slightly rocky beginning as we are all accommodating to living together, things go much, much better than I’d ever expected.

The most marked difference is the next year during Christmas, when Lydia has already taken her first steps and spoken her first word.

Mama.

To quantify the joy I felt at hearing that would be blasphemous.

For one moment in time, I’d felt happier than I’ve ever been.

We haven’t made any demands of the boys, though, and we are pleased to have them call us aunt and uncle.

‘Are you happy, Lizzie?’ Amon asks me late that Christmas night. Draped around him after a bout of fervent lovemaking, I nuzzle my face in the crook of his neck as I wrap my arms and legs around him, keeping him to myself.

‘I’ve never been happier,’ I confess, kissing his skin. ‘And it’s all because of you and everything you’ve done for me. You are the best father I could have ever hoped for and,’ I pause to drag in a deep breath. These damn tears just won’t stop falling. ‘Watching you with the boys and with Lydia warms my heart like nothing else,’ I whisper.

‘Ah, Lizzie mine,’ he rasps, cupping my face in his big hands and pulling me back so I can watch the raw emotion on his face. ‘Your happiness is my happiness. But this past year,’ he swallows hard. ‘I never knew one could be this happy.’

My lips pull up in a smile as I gaze at him.

‘As long as we’re together, we’ll always be like this,’ I murmur.

‘Always,’ he whispers, bringing his lips to mine in a searing kiss.

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