Mastered by Love (Bastion Club 8)

Later she would speak with him, accept his offer—and offer him her heart, without reservation.

“It’s entirely thanks to you three that I’m heading home before dusk, let alone in time for afternoon tea.” At ease in the landau, Minerva smiled at Letitia, Clarice, and Penny, all, like her, exhausted, but satisfied with their day.

“It was our pleasure,” Penny returned. “Indeed, I think I’ll suggest Charles investigates getting some ewes from that breeder, O’Loughlin.”

She grinned, but didn’t get to mention Hamish’s background, distracted instead by Clarice’s account of what she’d discovered among the craft stalls. By the time they reached the castle, she’d been amply reassured that her friends hadn’t found their assumed duties too onerous. Alighting, they went indoors to join the company for afternoon tea.

All the ladies were present, but only a handful of the gentlemen, most having taken out rods or guns and disappeared for the day.

“It seemed wise to encourage them,” Margaret said. “Especially as we want them to dance attendance on us tomorrow at the fair.”

Smiling to herself, Minerva quit the gathering and climbed the main stairs. She wasn’t sure she’d dealt with everything within the castle itself; she’d left those lists in the morning room.

She was reaching for the knob of the morning room door when it opened.

Royce stood framed in the doorway. “There you are.”

“I’ve just got back. Or rather”—she tipped her head downward—“just finished afternoon tea. Everything seems to be proceeding smoothly.”

“As, under your guidance, things always do.” Taking her arm, he moved her back, joining her and pulling the door closed behind him. “That being the case…come walk with me.”

He wound her arm in his, setting his hand over hers. She glanced at his face—uninformative as ever—as she strolled beside him. “Where to?”

“I thought…” He’d led her back into the keep; now he turned down the short corridor to his apartments—not entirely to her surprise.

But he halted a few paces along, looked at the wall, then put out his hand, depressed a catch; the door to the keep’s battlements sprang open. “I thought,” he repeated, meeting her gaze as he held the door wide, “that the view from the battlements might entice.”

She laughed, and readily went through. “Along with the peace up there, plus the fact it’s entirely private?”

Perhaps she could tell him her decision up there?

“Indeed.” Royce followed her into the stairway built into the keep’s wall. Once she’d climbed to the top of the steep flight and pushed open the door, letting light flood down, he closed the corridor door, then took the stairs three at a time, emerging to join her on the open battlements.

They were the original battlements, the highest part of the castle. The view was spectacular, but by long tradition was enjoyed by only the family, more particularly those residing within the keep; guests had never been permitted up there, on the walks where, over the centuries, the family’s most trusted guards had kept watch for their enemies.

The breeze was brisker than in the fields below; it tugged and flirted with Minerva’s hair as she stood in one of the gaps in the crenellations, looking north, over the gardens, the bridge, the mill, and the gorge.

As he neared, she lifted her face, shook back her hair. “I’d forgotten how fresh it is up here.”

“Are you cold?” He closed his hands about her shoulders.

She glanced into his face, smiled. “No, not really.”

“Good. Nevertheless…” He slid his arms around her and drew her back against him, settling her back to his chest, enveloping her in his greater warmth. She sighed and relaxed into his embrace, leaning against him, crossing her arms, her hands curving over his as she looked out. His chin beside her topknot, he, too, gazed out over his fields.

The unfulfilled impulse that had prompted him to take her to Lord’s Seat lookout weeks before had prodded him to bring her here—for the same reason.

“All you can see,” he said, “as far as you can see, all the lands beneath your gaze are mine. All that lies beneath our feet—that, too, is mine. My heritage, under my rule, under my absolute authority. The people are mine, too—mine to protect, to watch over—their welfare my responsibility, all part of the same whole.” He drew breath, then went on, “What you see before you is the greater part of what my life will be. What it will encompass. And you’re already an integral part of it. The day I took you to Lord’s Seat, this is what I wanted to show you—all that I want to share with you.”

He glanced at her profile. “I want to share all of my life with you, not just the customary parts. Not just the social and familial arenas, but all this, too.” Tightening his arms, laying his jaw against her hair, he found the words he’d been searching for. “I want you by my side in everything, not just my duchess, but my helpmate, my partner, my guide. I will welcome you gladly into whatever spheres of my life you wish to grace.

“If you consent to be my wife, I will willingly give to you not just my affection, not just my protection, but the right to stand beside me in everything I do. As my duchess, you will not be an adjunct, but an integral part of all that, together, we will be.”

Minerva couldn’t keep the smile from her face. He was who he was, manipulative to his toes; he’d eloquently laid before her what he knew to be the most potent inducement he could offer—but he was sincere. Totally, unquestionably, speaking from his heart.

If she’d needed further convincing that she could have faith and go forward, that she should accept his suit and become his duchess, he’d just supplied it; all he’d said was predicated on, based on, built upon an “affection” he believed was sound, solid, as unshakable as the foundations of his keep.

She already knew the counter to that emotion lived, strong and vital, in her. To have such a fate, such a challenge, such a destiny offered her so freely…that was more than she’d ever dared dream.