The Soldier and the Princess

Epilogue

Daphne

The truck rolled down the dusty streets of Las Vegas, my hair blowing in the wind from the open windows as Silas held my hand across the console. The truck was new, but the roads were familiar to me; having spent a lot of time in this area when I was here two years ago, I had a general sense that we were headed in the direction of my father’s house, the house that Stone and Penelope had purchased and now lived in together.

“I thought you were living at The Alamo?” I asked casually, my eyes on the gorgeous red hills in the distance. I had missed this city so much, and I never wanted to leave it again.

“I was,” Silas answered cryptically, his distinct lack of an answer making me take my eyes off the horizon and look at him. His strong profile looked great against the setting sun, the shadow of his beard dusting across his jaw and making me anxious for us to get where we were going so that I could scratch my nails across it as he scratched it across me.

“So are we going to see Stone and Penelope first?”

It had taken a few days to get myself organized to move across the country again, but I had found that I was very unattached to most of the things at the hotel I had grown up in; hardly any of the items I had in my bedroom were chosen by me, and I was happy enough to leave them all behind.

So, here I was, one solitary suitcase in hand, ready to start my life on my terms.

“No,” was all Silas said, leaving me confused but content to wait him out. Turning my face back to the window, I smiled as we drove in comfortable silence.

But when we turned away from Summerlin, the neighborhood where my brother lived, and into a smaller gated community I had never been to before, I sat up a little straighter. The golden light of early evening sparkled against a body of water—which, in the middle of the desert, was unusual enough—but as we continued to weave through the quiet residential streets, it became more and more clear that this was an adorable community built for families.

What the heck were we doing here?

We wound our way through the tidy streets, their green walkways and small ponds full of ducks making me smile, until Silas finally turned into the driveway of one of the houses, and I stared.

The place was striking, two stories with lots of windows and the kind of architectural trim that got me all fired up inside. Designed in what was typically called Spanish Revival style, it boasted a cream-colored stucco exterior and the classic terracotta roof tiles, as well as arched windows and a gorgeous wrought-iron gate separating the front yard from the entry way.

Not saying anything, Silas exited the vehicle and came around, opening my door and holding my hand as we walked up to the gate.

“Who lives here, Silas?”

He only smiled, and if I wasn’t mistaken, the tips of his ears turned a little pink, before pushing the gate open and ushering me through.

A cozy courtyard greeted us, and the low outdoor furniture featuring lime green cushions caught my eye, but Silas didn’t stop, carrying on right up to the front door, where he stopped and faced me.

“Daphne,” he started, then stopped to swallow and lick his dry lips. “I know it’s not what you’re used to.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand before continuing. “I want you to have the best things, Daphne. The things you have always dreamed of.” Silas reached for my hand, his fingers lacing with mine, and I squeezed gently, encouraging him to keep talking. “I want you to be happy here, with me, and this was the only way I could think to make that happen.”

Without waiting for a response, Silas unlocked the door and swept it open, towing me into the house as I stared around in wonder.

Because it was beautiful.

The front entryway was tall, the domed ceiling reaching up to the second story roof and the gorgeous black iron light fixture dangling in the center drawing my attention right away. Keeping hold of Silas’s hand, I moved from the front door through to the next room, an open concept area housing a massive kitchen with stunning earth-toned granite and stainless-steel appliances across from what appeared at first glance to be a living space.

Looking back at Silas, I could see he was nervous, and he motioned for me to keep exploring. I let go of his hand and wandered through the kitchen, trailing my fingers over the rich, brown cabinets and then turning to the living room behind me.

The ceiling once again soared above me, the two-storey wall of windows letting in the golden light of early evening and highlighting the accent wall across from the kitchen.

The one painted a rich terracotta color, with a sage green couch sitting against it.

I bit my lip, wondering if it was just a coincidence, or if he had truly remembered. Could such a throw-away comment over two years ago really have registered with him?

I was about to ask him when I turned and spotted the huge portrait over the fireplace

“Oh, Silas.”

It was me.

The close-up shot of my profile, my hair loose and blowing around my face as I stared at something outside the frame. Remembering the exact moment this photo was taken, I know I had been looking at the petroglyph wall the day we had gone on our hike.

The photo was blown up quite big, the print done in sepia tones to blend with the rest of the decor, but there was no doubt in my mind when this picture was from.

“I can’t believe you have this,” I murmured, feeling him come up behind me, close, but not touching me. Not like I wanted him to. I turned to him then, feeling my stomach turn over as I tried to slot the pieces of this puzzle together. “Silas, why do you have this?” When he didn’t speak, I asked a different question, one he might be more likely to answer. “When did you do this? The house. The paint and the—the photo.” I looked at the couch again, the soft green fabric looking absolutely perfect against the painted wall, exactly as I had pictured it in my mind.

Taking a breath, Silas stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets before he spoke. “I bought this house about a week after you left for New York,” he said quietly, and I felt my eyebrows shoot up.

A week?

“We had been so angry at each other when I left.” I remembered that time so well, the deep wound to my soul that his words had left. “We were both so hurt by the things we had each said and done. I would never have thought that...” I trailed off, not quite sure how to voice what I was feeling. “I never thought that you would want me,” I finished, my fear and disbelief clear in my wavering tone.

“Daphne.” His voice was rough, as if he was having as much trouble speaking as I was. “There has not been a moment in the last two years that I didn’t want you. Not a single night that I didn’t think of you. Not one morning that I didn’t wake up yearning for you.” Reaching out, unable to go another moment without touching him, I pressed my palms to his firm, warm chest. His heart was racing, the gallop so very much like my own.

“I bought this house because I wanted you in it,” he went on, his own hands on my hips, fingers clenching and unclenching against my body as he spoke. “I painted these walls because I wanted you to love them. And when it looked like I would never get to show them to you, I printed that photo and I hung up, so that at least some part of you could be here. With me.” Looking down, his every emotion plain to see on his face, Silas stared at me as he spoke words that I knew would stay with me forever.

“All I want to do is love you, Daphne. Please let me.”

And what could I say but yes?

The End