The Black Diamond (45 page)

The mausoleum that had haunted Julian's memories was no more. In its stead was a remarkable tribute to a pair of remarkable men.

Only two rooms at Morland remained unchanged.

The library, where Aurora had first told Julian she loved him, and one bedchamber: Hugh's. That room especially, Aurora had made certain remained as it was—untouched and undisturbed—a private haven for Julian to visit and to savor his personal memories.

Thus, Morland was at peace and Merlin Manor was home.

Julian had been totally overcome by what his wife had done. But his sentiments had paled in comparison to the ones he'd experienced when he learned she was pregnant.

Weak-kneed relief over her well-being had transformed to shock, finally evolving into a bone-melting combination of awe and joy.

Aurora was carrying his child.

The months that followed had been a miracle for him; watching his wife's body change, ripen, and swell with his babe. He'd immersed himself in every glorious detail, loving Aurora to the very depths of his soul—and wanting her with an intensity that seemed to heighten with each passing day.

Still, when her pregnancy reached the stage that precluded lovemaking, he'd learned to endure celibacy—something he'd never imagined doing with Aurora in his bed. Hell, he'd even gone so far as to acquire a measure of patience, forcing himself to await the babe's arrival with a modicum of control.

Somehow it had all been bearable.

Until now.

Because now, Aurora was in pain—and there wasn't a bloody thing he could do to stop it.

"Soon, Julian," Mr. Scollard comforted, invariably reading his mind. "Very soon. In fact—" The lighthouse keeper pressed his lips together, glancing overhead as if he could see through the ceiling to the second floor. "I'll give Courtney another quarter hour. Then I'd best go up. Shortly after that, Rory will be asking for you."

"The pain will become more severe?" Julian felt a knife twist in his gut.

"No. The pain will be rewarded with one of life's greatest blessings."

"I doubt I'll last."

"You will." Mr. Scollard smiled. "You and Rory have a long and wonderful life ahead. Filled with happiness, children, and—of course—adventure."

Julian groaned. "Don't even say that word. After this experience, I want nothing but a lifetime of complacency. Hell, even a London Season would look good about now."

"Which reminds me," Slayde interceded, "I learned something interesting while I was in Devonshire. Evidently the Prince Regent intends to give a ball in honor of Geoffrey and James—
and
you and Aurora for fulfilling their final and most vital mission. The ball will be held at Carlton House in June—giving Aurora more than ample time to recover from childbirth and feel strong enough to travel to London. I received a letter to that effect when I stopped at Pembourne. Siebert advised me that the Prince Regent's letter and invitation to you are on their way. I probably sped past his messenger on the road. In any case, it seems the ball will be the culmination of the Season, with hundreds in attendance to acknowledge our great-grandfathers and you and Aurora. The entire
ton
is already buzzing with the news." Slayde assessed Julian's glazed expression, and his lips twitched. "You look distinctly unimpressed by the prospect of this ball. I can assure you after twenty years of living with her, that Aurora will not share your lack of enthusiasm. She's spent more than a decade dreaming of taking part in a glittering London Season. And this will give her the opportunity not only to attend the grandest of balls, but to be at its very core. At last my sister is getting her wish—the
ton
is opening its arms in welcome, heralding you both, in fact, as heroes. As is all of England and much of the world."

"The privateers are none too happy with us," Julian amended, rubbing his bristled jaw. "We've deprived them of one of their most coveted prizes. With the black diamond safely ensconced in the temple from which it was stolen, they'll have to set their sights on a new, equally fascinating treasure." His gaze softened, shifted toward the stairs. "As for me, if Aurora will only endure this ordeal, I'll take her to every bloody ball in England—hell, we can even give one of our own, invite the entire fashionable world."

"Does that mean I'll 'ave to serve?" Gin asked, looking even paler than he'd been a moment ago.

"No. For that, I'll send for Thayer. He has little to do at Morland Manor these days, anyway—other than showing interested spectators around. He and the rest of the staff will leap at the opportunity to assume more traditional roles."

"T
hank
'eavens." Gin sagged with relief. "It'll be bad enough 'avin' all those blue-bloods millin' around the louse without 'avin' to wait on 'em." He scowled at the bottle in his hand as if arriving at some momentous self-sacrificing decision. "If it'll make Mrs. Merlin 'appy, I'll clean up a little and put on a uniform," he blurted out before he could reconsider and change his mind. "But I'm tellin' ye now, I'm not learnin' 'ow to bow or dance. And I sure as 'ell won't share my gin. Those blue-bloods can drink yer sherry and some of that pitiful punch that's got more fruit in it than spirits." With that, Gin snatched up a second bottle for himself and marched off to give the partially empty one to Daniels.

"I'm overwhelmed," Slayde chuckled. "For Gin to be willing to don a uniform? Aurora must have worked miracles."

"She has—with all of us." Julian resumed pacing, his brow furrowed with worry. "I wish Courtney would come down and tell us how Aurora is faring so I'd know…" He halted, having caught sight of Mr. Scollard heading for the stairs. "You're going to Aurora?"

"Yes." The lighthouse keeper never paused, his words trailing behind him as he ascended the staircase. "I'll be only five minutes. After that, I'll rejoin you. We'll have time for one brandy each. By that time, Courtney will be sending for you."

"Oh, God." Julian turned away, feeling as if someone had punched him in the gut.

"On second thought," Scollard called down from the landing, "you and Slayde begin without me. You'll toss off your first brandy in a few necessary gulps. I'll join you for your second."

"Come on," Slayde urged Julian, sitting Tyler atop his shoulders and gesturing toward the sitting room. "We've just been instructed to have a drink."

Julian followed, watching Tyler squeal with delight and cling to his father's neck, hearing Slayde's quiet chuckle as he knelt before the sofa and tumbled Tyler over his head and onto the soft velvet cushions.

A never-before-experienced lump formed in Julian's throat. "I remember how ornery and irrational you were during those long hours before Tyler was born," he commented, pouring two goblets of brandy and handing one to Slayde—after which, as Mr. Scollard had predicted, he downed his own drink in a few purposeful swallows. "Never having gone through what you did, I hadn't a clue as to the emotions you were feeling, the level of pain Courtney was enduring."

"The last was the hardest part," Slayde admitted, giving Tyler a plaything to amuse him. "Knowing how much Courtney was suffering nearly did me in. But afterward—seeing Tyler in her arms, knowing we'd created him together—" He broke off. "You'll see what I mean soon enough."

Julian nodded. "I hope so. I just keep telling myself that Scollard would know if anything were wrong." He shot Slayde a look of utter amazement. "Listen to me. Who would have ever thought I'd believe in a visionary, much less put all my faith in one?"

A grin tugged at Slayde's lips. "Face it, my friend. Your fundamental approach to life became a thing of the past the day you met Aurora. Trust me, I know. I'm married to her best friend, a woman who within a matter of weeks managed to convince me that the impossible is possible—and has kept me believing it ever since."

"We're very lucky men."

"Indeed we are."

"I concur wholeheartedly," Mr. Scollard declared, entering the sitting room. "In fact, I believe we should toast to that."

Julian jumped so high his glass nearly flew from his hand. "Is she all right?"

A proud smile touched Mr. Scollard's lips. "She's tired. But she's Rory—excited, courageous, and impatient. Therefore, weary or not, she's relieved that her impatience is about to come to an end."

"Dammit." A muscle worked in Julian's jaw. "I want to help her."

"Let nature be Rory's guide." Scollard took Julian's goblet, refilling it after he'd poured himself a drink. "Your wife is an extraordinary woman."

"I know." Julian seized his glass with a nod of t
hank
s.

"Shall we have that toast?" The lighthouse keeper pursed his lips. "Quickly, I think. 'Twould be best if you downed that entire goblet before confronting Mrs. Peters. She's not entirely pleased with you." Abruptly Mr. Scollard halted, shaking his head as if to refute his own words. "No, I'll have to amend my timing. As things stand, 'twould be best if I lingered over my verbal tribute. Partly because I have much to extol and partly because Emma will use these extra minutes to wash everyone up and then to usher both herself and Mrs. Peters from the room. That way you'll have but one other person to encounter when you reach Aurora's bedchamber besides your wife herself—and I have a strong suspicion you wouldn't miss meeting that new occupant for all the world." So saying, Mr. Scollard raised his glass, waiting until the other two men had followed suit. "To two splendid men, Slayde and Julian, and to their exceptional wives, Courtney and Aurora. To Tyler—" He bowed solemnly at the tot, who stared at him with enthralled green eyes. "—whose welcome birth perpetuated the Huntley name in the most wondrous of fashions. To all the Huntleys and Bencrofts, reunited after sixty years, yet united wholly for the first time this day. And to the incomparable outcome of that ultimate union, an essential treasure conceived in love on a storm-tossed sea." Scollard's peaceful gaze swept from Slayde to Julian to Tyler, then rose to the ceiling overhead, clearly including the occupants of the second floor in his tribute. "Welcome," he said softly, a faint mist veiling his eyes. An instant later the mist was gone and he smiled, concluding his toast. "Here's to all of you. The joys will now abound, illuminating your lives and eclipsing the hardships of the past—now and forever."

Tyler made a cooing sound and clapped his hands.

Slayde and Scollard chuckled affectionately, then drank.

Julian didn't. "Something just happened, didn't it?" he asked Scollard quietly. "A moment ago, when you stared upward—you were sensing something. Was my child being born?"

Scollard arched a brow. "You haven't secured my toast with a drink. Do so, and fulfill its prophecy."

Taking a dutiful gulp of brandy, Julian continued to scrutinize Scollard's expression. "You haven't answered my question."

"No.
You
have." The lighthouse keeper met Julian's stare, conveying volumes with his gaze.

Eyes damp, Julian nodded, then bowed his head, giving silent t
hank
s to the heavens.

"Your gratitude has been received and embraced," Scollard said with solemn assurance. "Now finish your brandy. But don't refill your goblet. You won't have time."

Julian complied, wondering when anything—other than Mr. Scollard's tea—had ever tasted this good.

"Julian?" Courtney hovered in the sitting-room doorway, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with happiness. "Your wife's patience is officially gone. She says to advise you she has no intention of savoring this prize alone. According to her, you embarked upon this adventure together, and together you shall reap its rewards. I'd suggest you go to her bedchamber posthaste."

Julian's empty goblet struck the sideboard with a thud. "Is Aurora well? And our babe…?"

Courtney crossed over and squeezed Julian's hands. "Mother and child are both healthy and strong. Congratulations, Merlin. You're a father. Now, go. Your family awaits you."

Trembling with reaction, Julian bolted from the room, nearly knocking down Gin and Daniels, who were celebrating in the hallway, slapping each other's backs, and opening two new bottles of gin.