An Arrangement of Sorts Page 27

  “Ack! What was that for?” he yelped in indignation.

  “You lied to me!” she cried, wishing she felt more furious than she actually did, and knowing she probably ought to.

  “I did no such thing,” he said very patiently. “I merely withheld certain information.”

  “Semantics!”

  “Moira…”

  “Don’t ‘Moira’ me!” she protested, shoving at his rather strong chest. “Have you any idea how tormented I’ve been?”

  “A little, yes,” he said quickly, taking her face in his hands once more and forcing her to look at him. “Moira, I will gladly pay penance the rest of my life to you for not being entirely truthful, but please, for the love of all that is good and holy, don’t make me do so now.”

  He pressed his lips to hers once more, managing to silence her rather pleasantly. His fingers dug into her hair, sending it tumbling down her back. Moira felt herself falling just as freely into him, and her growing desire brought forth a moan from the back of her throat. Before she would be entirely insensible, she broke away, determined to have the last word, even as her hands gripped the back of Nathan’s shirt.

  “Don’t think that you can forever get out of trouble by kissing me, Nathan. It won’t work.” She was quite certain her words would have more force if they were not quite so breathless, but that couldn’t be helped at this moment.

  “Oh, I know it will not work all of the time,” he said as he brushed his lips along her jaw. “But I think I can say with some confidence that it will work most of the time.”

  He kissed her again, and it occurred to her that he was probably right, but she would never tell him so. It was only a moment more of being so deliciously assaulted by him that she knew for a fact he absolutely was right. She didn’t interrupt any further as she reveled in being in his arms, of being here with him, of being home.

  “Praise the Lord, there’s going to be a wedding!” a rather boisterous voice crowed from somewhere in the distance.

  Nathan groaned and broke from Moira’s lips, resting his forehead against hers. “I think I need to shoot Colin, my love.”

  “Oh, don’t do that,” she scolded, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Poor, dead Colin would make a terrible mess of things.”

  “It might be worth it.” He glanced over, and then shut his eyes quickly again. “They’re coming down here, you know.”

  “Excellent,” she said brightly. “I have long wanted to meet them.”

  “You will have to be strong, Moira.”

  She gave him an odd look. “When have I been anything but? You don’t think I can be run off by your friends when I have handled you so triumphantly, do you?”

  He kissed her quite thoroughly, then pulled back, grinning at the dazed expression on her face. He released her, but kept a firm hold on one hand. “No, I don’t. That’s what worries me. I’m more concerned for them than I am for you.”

  She grinned rather proudly. “You do know me well, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “That I do, and I love you all the more for it.”

  She winked rather boldly at him, which sent a delightfully visible thrill coursing throughout his frame. “I love you, too, Nathan, and every day with you is all I will ever need again.”

  She would like to have him kiss her again, and spend quite a long time doing it, too, but his friends were upon them, so she had to settle for him tightly squeezing her hand, with the barest hint of his thumb rubbing against her in a promise of later.

  And the further promise of forever.

  Epilogue

  “And another thing. There will be no quarrelling about who is the Queen’s favorite. The Queen loves all of her subjects equally, and that is all she will say on the matter.”

  The loyal subjects said nothing under the power of the Queen’s piercing blue eyes, which was to be expected, as they were dolls.

  The Queen nodded firmly in approval at their reactions, her dark tresses bouncing as she did so. “That will be all. Now, the Queen would like to have some tea and cake, but only three of you may accompany her. Which of you shall attend?”

  Without waiting for volunteers, she picked up the nearest three and walked over to the desk nearby. She carefully sat all three facing the great chair behind it, then climbed up into the chair herself. Once situated, she nodded again. “Thank you for coming to tea. The Queen will take her tea on her throne, because the Queen can do whatever she wants.”

  A sudden war cry of sorts was heard, and a dark haired urchin flew into the room through the open doors to the terrace. “Long live King Richard!” he roared, aiming his bow and arrow at the Queen, who shrieked in horror.

  “Robbie!” She stood in her throne and put her hands on her hips. “Do you mind? I am trying to have tea with my royal subjects!”

  “Robin of the Hood does not answer to any Queen!” he cried, still aiming his arrow at her. “Swear loyalty to King Richard, or be struck with my dastardly arrow!”

  “Don’t be stupid, Robert,” she sniffed, climbing off of the chair and adjusting her crown. “The Queen is married to King Richard.”

  “Is not!” he cried, dropping his bow and arrow, his face indignant. “King Richard would never marry my sister!”

  “I am not your sister,” she said with a stomp of her foot. “I am the Queen Lizzie.”

  “Well, then, Queen Lizzie,” he sneered, his dark eyes rolling dramatically, “give me all your gold so I can rob you and give it to the poor.”

  The Queen huffed in frustration. “But I don’t have…”

  Whatever she had been about to say died in her throat as a terrible roaring came from just outside the room, and the two froze, turning towards the closed door to the rest of the house with identically horror-struck expressions. With a crash, the door burst open and a ferocious growling filled the room, and suddenly the Queen was swooped up into the clutches of a vicious beast.

  “Papa-monster!” the creature roared, maintaining quite the grip on the flailing queen.

  “Robin Hood! Save me,” she squealed, trying to beat the monster back.

  “I’m coming, Your Majesty!” he hollered, pulling out his bow once again.

  Arrow after arrow shot rapidly from the mighty outlaw, and pierced the thick hide of the creature, who groaned and moaned in agony, as he sank slowly to the ground. Sensing her rescue was nigh at hand, the Queen shimmied herself loose from its hold, and together, she and Robin of the Hood beat upon it with their fists and arrows until the creature thumped the floor once more, silent and still at last.

  They cheered and danced about in victory.

  Until…

  “What in heaven’s name is going on in here?”

  Three suddenly anxious pairs of eyes turned to the new voice, their owners completely still and frozen. The little girl’s wide eyes fixed upon the identical ones of her mother, and then, pointing at the fallen creature, very rapidly said, “Papa-monster kidnapped the Queen and Robin of the Hood saved her and they killed the monster dead.”

  Her mother’s eyes twinkled merrily and she tried not to smile. “Oh, well, if that’s all.” She sighed as she looked at the monster in question, now not so very dead and grinning without reservation. “If you have quite finished,” she said with only a touch of scolding, “then perhaps you would like to get your things and go on out to the coach? I don’t think Uncle Spencer and Aunt Caroline would like us to arrive after they have gone to bed. Lizzie, Robbie, come on.”

  The children scampered out of the room cheering even more loudly than before.

  Moira looked down at her husband, and finally shook her head. “You are the worst of the lot, you know.”

  He shrugged, still grinning, and got to his feet. “I just try to keep you on your toes, my lady.”

  She rolled her eyes, adjusted the weight of their youngest child, a girl so identical to her mother it was disconcerting, and snorted. “Don’t ‘my lady’ me, your mighty earlship. I had to keep on my toe
s long before those two came along.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m quite the handful, I know,” he sighed, kissing her soundly, then giving an equally sound kiss to the plump cheek of his daughter, who giggled at his actions.

  “Yes, you are, and I think I should scold you most severely,” Moira said, still trying to sound firm. “How do you think a trip to Spencer and Caroline’s is going to go with those two so wound up?”

  “Down, Mama,” the little girl insisted, pushing away from her, eying the fallen bow with interest.

  Moira sighed and set her down, watching as she toddled over and picked it up, studying it intently. “Wonderful,” she groaned. “Now even Charlotte will be roped into their games, and not as another queen.”

  “Charlotte can be one of Robin’s merry band if she wants,” Nathan said soothingly, pulling her into his arms. “Robbie would love having someone to follow him around, and it would hardly hurt you to join in once in a while, you know.”

  “I do,” she assured him. “Who do think plays with them when you are off being the mighty earl?”

  “Why don’t you play when I’m here?” he asked with a mock pout.

  “Because I can’t compete with Papa-monster,” she said, smiling at last.

  “You’re right. You’re far better.” He kissed her gently, lingering, taking her face in his hands.

  “You’re still in trouble, you know,” she whispered as he pulled away.

  “After six years of marriage and three children, you still expect me to believe that I cannot kiss my way out of trouble?” he chuckled softly, his lips dancing lightly over her cheeks and down her neck.

  “Four,” she corrected with a satisfied smirk. “And no, you cannot.”

  Nathan froze and reared back, looking at her in disbelief. “What?”

  “You cannot kiss your way…”

  “Moira.”

  She laughed merrily and planted a quick kiss on his unmoving lips. “Four. Honestly, Nathan, one would think you could count your own children. And we may be able to catch up to Spencer and Caroline now, what with little Nathan being so…”

  He clamped a hand over her mouth and gave her a look. “Explain four,” he growled, having learned long ago that the best way to shut his wife up was a physical impediment.

  She quirked her brows, and he removed his hand. “Come winter,” she said with a grin, “there will be four, not three.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  With a whoop, he picked her up and swung her around, kissing her and laughing all the while.

  “I take it this news pleases you?” Moira laughed once she was returned to the ground.

  “It pleases me,” he said, kissing her gently yet again. “I love you.”

  She smiled up at him. “I love you.” Then, hearing the boisterous noises of her children, she sighed. “We never have time to ourselves anymore, do we?”

  “We have tonight,” he murmured, quirking his brows and flashing a would-be wicked grin.

  Shaking her head, she snorted at the blatant suggestion, kissed him once, and stepped away. “We have to go, or we will never get there before nightfall.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, patting her cheek. “Spencer and I grew up at Fairington. Even if we’re late, I know all the secret ways in.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Moira muttered.

  Little Charlotte, having seen something she thought she would enjoy far more than her brother’s bow, came back towards her parents. “Me, Papa. Swing me,” she demanded, holding her arms up for him.

  He laughed and picked her up, carrying her out to the carriage where the servants and the other two rather anxious children waited. “I’ll swing you, poppet. I’ll swing you all the way to the carriage, and all the way to Uncle Spencer’s, and all the way to London, and…”

  Moira shook her head and smiled to herself, unconsciously resting a hand on her not-yet-swollen abdomen. Though all four of those people drove her to distraction, and this new little one would as well, she would not have traded anything in the world for the life she led. Had she ever imagined that her life could be this wonderful?

  No, perhaps not. But it made no difference.

  Some things in life were so glorious they simply could not be imagined.

  “Mama!” her children screamed in unison, no doubt urged on by their father. “Time to go!”

  “Coming!” she called, with a laugh, shaking herself from her reverie and walking out to the carriage where her family waited for her, and then they were off on yet another adventure, one of many before and many still to come.

  About the Author

  Rebecca Connolly has been creating stories since she was young, and there are home videos to prove it. She started writing them down in elementary school and has never looked back. She lives in Ohio, spends every spare moment away from her day job absorbed in her writing, and is a hot cocoa junkie.

  Coming Soon

  Married to

  the Marquess

  “For better or for worse…

  the very worst.”

  by

  Rebecca Connolly