Authors: Cheryl Holt
“I’ve been ready my whole life.”
They faced the captain, and he opened an old, tattered prayer book, but he didn’t need to glance at the words to recite them. It was an abbreviated version of the vows, but the most important parts were all there. And it was just as binding as it would have been if they’d been standing in a cathedral in London.
“Dearly beloved…” he began.
Bryce squeezed her hand as tightly as he could. “That’s what you are. My
dearly
beloved, and you always will be.”
Kat peered up into his blue, blue eyes, and she felt safe, protected, and adored.
When the captain asked, “Your Highness, Katarina Victoria Sasha Webster Morovsky, do you take this man, Bryce Blair, Lord Radcliffe, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
She could only answer, “Oh, yes, I definitely do. For now and forevermore.”
EPILOGUE(S)
“A princess—of all things!”
“Yes, a real princess. What do you think of that?”
Evangeline smiled at Bryce. “Of all the surprises you might have brought home, it’s the last I would have expected. But, dear brother, a princess is precisely what you deserve.”
“I can’t believe she agreed to have me. My head is still spinning over it.”
“In the bargain, we get to help raise a royal princess and a king. We’ve certainly come up in the world from where we were when you left for Egypt.”
“We certainly have.”
Evangeline gazed around the main receiving hall of Radcliffe Castle. It was packed with people, the Christmas supper about to be served. Servants were running, guests laughing, drinking, and jesting. The Yule log burned in the grate, and musicians were seated in the corner and playing carols.
Christmas morning had started at the chapel in the village with Bryce and Kat repeating their vows. They’d wanted to speak the words with Radcliffe residents looking on, and they’d been intent on writing their names in the church’s Bible where all of the previous earls and countesses had signed after their weddings, their ancestors going back hundreds of years.
In light of the road she and her brothers had all traveled, in light of the difficulties they’d overcome to have Radcliffe returned to them, it had been a poignant and emotional moment.
After the meal was concluded, there would be dancing, cards, games, and other entertainment. She’d invited the important neighbors, the merchants in the surrounding villages, and most of the tenant farmers.
Gradually the castle was blossoming, shucking off its aura of misery and bad luck. The greatest news of all was the title and rank of Bryce’s bride. She had been trained in all the social graces, would know how to manage such a large, sprawling abode. Evangeline didn’t have to worry anymore about how the place would be rebuilt and refurbished to its prior grandeur.
Over the past week, the entire family had arrived, and the fact that she could claim an
entire
family was particularly thrilling.
Her husband, Aaron, was at the head table, chatting with Katarina. Evangeline and Bryce would join them in a few minutes.
Also at the front, Matthew and Michael sat with their wives, Clarissa and Magdalena. Aaron’s brother, Lucas and his wife Amelia, were seated with them too. Everyone had babies now, with the little ones upstairs and put to bed for the night. The old nursery was packed with so many youngsters Evangeline had had to hire five women from the village to care for them all.
King Nicholas and Princess Isabelle were off at a side table with the other children, and Evangeline thought it an excellent sign that Kat insisted her siblings be seated there, that they not be given special favors or treatment.
Already Nicholas had won over the children in attendance. He was a charming, magnetic boy, and Evangeline expected he would have an amazing future.
“What a fine looking family,” she mused. “We must have good bloodlines.”
“The very best,” Bryce replied.
“When we first crossed paths, did you ever imagine we would end up with such a mob of relatives?”
“No,” Bryce said. “I felt awfully fortunate just to have stumbled on you.”
“I told you I’d locate everybody else.”
“I didn’t believe you.”
They hadn’t found her mother though, but Evangeline had learned she’d survived the treacherous journey to Australia. If she’d survived the trip, why couldn’t she still be alive?
Evangeline had sent many inquires to the foreign country, had hired lawyers and investigators, and she was waiting for any information. It was frustrating that the Earth was so huge and the mail so slow. It took forever to receive a single response.
Evangeline sighed with delight. “Husbands, wives, babies.”
“Step-siblings, in-laws.”
“The room is filled to overflowing. We’re so lucky.”
“Yes, we are.” Bryce grinned down at her. “Have I thanked you for arranging to have Christmas here?”
“Only a hundred times.”
“Make it a hundred and one. Thank you. For all of this. I never thought we could retrieve what was ours.”
“I know, you horrid pessimist. You ran away to Egypt rather than try, but it was much simpler to accomplish than I could ever have predicted.”
“Considering all that happened to me there, I’m wishing I’d remained at home.”
“Then you wouldn’t have met Kat.”
“There is that, I guess.”
“Will you ever tell me how you got that scar on your cheek?”
“No, and if you think that one’s bad, you should see the ones on my back.”
She scowled. “Are you joking? What happened to you? Tell me the truth.”
“Well, I nearly drowned, starved, and perished from typhus. I lost all my possessions. I had to hire on as a laborer. I was set upon by brigands on numerous dire occasions. I was nearly murdered or robbed whenever I turned a corner. I was flogged, sold into slavery, left for dead, and my best friend and I split apart after a dreadful quarrel.” He paused. “Hmm…have I forgotten anything?”
Her scowl deepened. “All of those disasters could not possibly have occurred.”
He chuckled. “Some of them did. I’ll let you decide which of them transpired and which didn’t. But I will say this: I’m staying put. I’ve seen the world, and I don’t need to see it again.”
“I’m glad you made it back safe and sound.”
“So am I. You have no idea.”
Aaron gazed down from the head table, and she gestured to him, visually apprising him she was ready to begin the ceremony she’d planned. He banged his goblet on the wood, like a Viking lord, and the gathering grew silent.
She and Bryce walked down the aisle and stopped at the fireplace where the Yulelog was burning with such cheery flames. She waved to Michael and Matthew, and they rose and joined her. The four Blair siblings faced the crowd.
“As you know by now,” she said, “our father and mother should have been earl and countess here.”
There were nods and murmurs all around.
The tittering died down, and she continued. “Before Bryce departed for Egypt, we were investigating our past. An acquaintance gave us portraits of my parents that my father had commissioned for their wedding. I’ve had them hung in the hall so we will always be able to glance up and see them watching over us.”
The paintings were covered to keep them hidden until this unveiling. She motioned to the servants, and they tugged on the cloths, drawing them away.
And…there they were, so young and gorgeous and extraordinary.
People gasped, clapped, smiled, pointed, and beamed with pleasure.
Her father, Julian, was tall, dark, and handsome. He was attired as the adventurer he’d been in a flowing white shirt, a jaunty kerchief circling his neck. Dangling from a belt on his hip, he wore the sword Bryce had brought with him from Egypt. He was so dashing and charismatic he might have been a hero in a romantic novel.
Her mother, Anne, was beautiful, her exuberance and charm seeming to leap off the canvas. She was dressed in a sapphire gown, and the artist had captured her verve and spirit, her flamboyance and splendor. She appeared merry and mischievous, as if she had spent her life laughing with joy.
Bryce had seen the portraits, but Michael and Matthew had not, so this was their first glimpse with the rest of the room.
The twins looked exactly like their father, while she and Bryce looked exactly like their mother. Both parents had had the most fabulous blue eyes, and their children had inherited those eyes, the Blair eyes. It connected them. It bound them to each other and to their parents.
“Oh, my Lord,” Michael mumbled. “How absolutely stunning.”
“Where did you get them?” Matthew asked.
“Mr. Etherton’s niece had them. She kept them for us.”
Etherton had been their father’s friend. He’d been the only one who’d stood by their mother during her difficulties. He’d arranged for all of them to go to boarding school, had checked on them and watched over them as best he could—which hadn’t been very well at all. The twins had vanished for most of three decades.
She stared at her brothers, such incredible, remarkable men. How had they persevered? How had they thrived?
It had to be due to her parents’ blood running in their veins. It had helped them to carry on and prosper beyond anyone’s imagining. They had been three little lost lords, cast to the winds of fate. But destiny had brought them together again, guiding them to the place they were meant to be.
They were home now—at Radcliffe—where they belonged.
“I’ve had copies made,” she told the twins. “It’s my Christmas gift to you.”
Matthew turned to her and gave her a tight hug. “Sissy, it’s wonderful. How can I thank you?”
“I agree,” Michael said, “and I’d say it’s a few steps beyond wonderful.”
Evangeline smelled the scent of roses, so her mother was close by, letting her know she was happy for what Evangeline had done.
Bryce peered over at the twins. “Did you feel that?”
“The hand on the shoulder?” Michael asked.
“Yes.” They often perceived their father’s presence too, and Bryce peeked up at the ceiling. “I’m glad you’re here, Father. I’m glad you approve.”
Suddenly a burst of wind whistled down the center aisle, and Evangeline worried that the doors had banged open. It was snowing outside, a blizzard possible by morning, but the doors were shut. They were all cozy and warm inside the large chamber.
The gust whipped by and proceeded directly for the fireplace. It blew on the hearth, almost as if a blacksmith was pressing on his bellows. Sparks flew, the flames billowing up, and for a moment, the paintings glowed as if they’d been gilded in golden sunlight.
Then the light waned, the fire calmed, the wind abated, but an eerie sensation lingered, the air charged with an odd energy. People nervously glanced at one another, brows raised, shoulders shrugging.
Bryce looked out at everyone. “I think my father just stopped by to say hello.”
“I think he did too,” Matthew said.
Scotland was a land where ghosts were common, so no one was surprised. The crowd laughed, the tension eased.
“Welcome to my home,” Bryce declared for the first time ever. “While I have always been Bryce Blair to my acquaintances, in the future I plan to call myself Lord Radcliffe, and I hope all of you will refer to me as Radcliffe. When you do, I will know that you fondly remember and honor my father.”
Evangeline smiled. “That’s fabulous news, Bryce. I mean, Lord Radcliffe.”
“I’ll call you Radcliffe,” Michael said, “so long as you don’t grow annoyingly cocky about it.”
“And
I
will call you Radcliffe,” Matthew said, “no matter how you act. As far as I’m concerned, you can be as cocky as you want.”
From over at the children’s table, King Nicholas stood. “Lord Radcliffe, might we have the servants start serving supper? Your guests are getting quite hungry.”
“A fine idea, Your Majesty,” Lord Radcliffe replied. “Let’s eat. Let’s eat together—as a family.”
The four Blair siblings walked to the front of the room.
* * * *
Lord Radcliffe strolled outside to tarry under the gates of his castle. He’d felt the need to survey his domain, to remind himself it was real. He perused the lush landscape, the rolling hills, the thick forests. Through the trees, he could see the church steeple in the village, could see smoke from chimneys as the day began.
It was a gray morning, the ground white. It had snowed all night and was still snowing lightly. It was very quiet, very peaceful.
He’d been away for almost two years. He’d gone to travel the roads his father had traveled. He’d viewed sights he’d never imagined, had lived through dangers he probably shouldn’t have survived. He’d learned to fight and win, had killed and maimed, had loved and wed and taken on the responsibility of raising another man’s children, and not just any children, but royal children.
The prior months had been exhausting and exhilarating. The mad trip from Parthenia had been wild and perilous, but filled with joy too. He and his wife had come home to the spot that would always be theirs, the spot where they would always belong. They would never be alone again, would never stand isolated, without friends or allies. They had each other now.
Christmas Day had been perfect. He’d married Katarina again and had hosted his first banquet in the main hall. His father’s and mother’s portraits were hanging on the wall. Their ghosts had visited.
He was happy, but sad too, and the sadness never really left him. In some ways, he would always be that five-year-old boy on the dock in London, wailing with dismay as the guards had forced his mother onto the ship. He would always be that little boy who’d tried to prevent Etherton’s servants from leaving with the twins. He’d always be the little boy who’d given his sister their mother’s ivory statue so he could use it to identify her should he be able to find her in the future.
He’d journeyed to Egypt to figure out what he should do with his life, to figure out the man he was meant to be. But he hadn’t needed to trek so far to discover the truth. He was the son of Julian and Anne Blair, and that’s all he’d ever needed to comprehend about himself.
He peered down the road that led to the village. There was a woman walking toward him. She was wearing a heavy cloak, her wool-lined boots kicking at the snow, the sound of her crunching feet echoing in the silent air. Her hood was up, so he couldn’t see her face, but she was small in stature, short and slender.