Meant To Be (Pendleton Manor 1)

“You are so beautiful,” she said. “I have always thought so.”

He should have been embarrassed but instead he felt uplifted by her praise. Sophy was good for him and always had been. He had just forgotten how much. When he was with her he could be who he’d always wanted to be and that wasn’t something that had ever happened with anyone else.

She was stroking up and down, and now she clambered up on her knees and straddled him. “Is this acceptable to you?” she asked, head tilted to the side, her fair hair tumbling over her shoulder.

“Very,” he said. Even he could hear the desire thick in his voice. “Put my cock inside you, Sophy. I want to feel you again.”

She sank down, wriggling to fit him in, and when he was as deep as he could go, she looked down at the result. His hands closed on her hips, ready to help her ride him, but then he changed his mind. As amazing as it was watching her, he needed her closer. He wanted her wrapped in his arms.

Harry sat up, making her squeak, and arranged her feet either side of his hips, keeping her joined to him. He began to kiss her with increasing passion, pausing to take quick breaths, and at the same time to share his feelings.

“There’s only you,” he groaned. “No one but you. Not before or ever, Sophy. Only you.”

Afterwards, has they lay together, he did not think of the future or Pendleton, he thought only of how happy he was.

So when the servant came to tap on their door and tell them that his father had made his decision, Harry was unprepared.

Epilogue

SOPHY

Five years later, Pendleton Manor

Sophy giggled as her two-year-old son hurried toward his big sister, who was picking white daisies from the border and carefully placing the mangled results in a basket. He was soon distracted, dropping down to his well-padded bottom to inspect the blades of glass in the svelte green lawn.

Sophy was grateful that her children were well and healthy, but she hadn’t forgotten those less fortunate. She had started a school in the village for the poor children of the parish. After her father was arrested the people here had turned their backs on her, but Sophy did not let that sway her. She had put those days behind her, and hoped they had too. Harry teased her by calling her ‘My Lady Bountiful’, but she knew how genuinely proud he was of her.

Harry rested his hand on her nape, drawing her attention, and she looked up at him with a smile. He grinned as he watched their children’s antics.

Sophy loved their days together, especially when Harry took time from running the estate and his many other duties to laze in the garden with her and their two children.

Sir Arbuthnot had passed away earlier in the year, complaining to the very last about the hand that had been dealt him, but perhaps not quite as bitter as he would have them believe. Harry told her his father’s last words had been for his grandchildren, urging Harry to carry on the line and to look after Pendleton for the generations to come.

It was five years ago today that Sir Arbuthnot had bowed to their wishes. Harry thought that the estate’s tenants and workers petitioning his father to allow Harry to take control had something to do with it, but Sophy did not think that was the whole answer. Sir Arbuthnot might be a bully and a tyrant, but he loved his eldest son. Harry was the sort of man his father could never be, and somewhere deep in his heart, Sir Arbuthnot knew it.

Sophy may not have been the wife Sir Arbuthnot chose for his son, but he had grown to accept her. There had been times before his death when he had spoken to her in

a way that even made her believe he was fond of her, and appreciated her compassion for his situation. And although Sophy could never forget what he had done she was able to set it aside. She knew when she discovered that he had left a bequest for her school in his will, that they had both moved on.

“Adam will be here tomorrow,” Harry said, leaning in to kiss her ear, his tongue sliding around the shell.

Sophy shivered at his wicked play. The children would tire later, and she would hand them off to the nursery maid, and then spend an agreeable few hours with her husband in the privacy of their bedchamber. She could never get enough of him, and Harry was insatiable for her.

“He sounded happy in his letter,” Sophy said.

Harry stared thoughtfully toward the children. “I think he found happiness despite himself,” he said.

Sophy was very fond of Adam. She was also fond of James Abbott, and he had written to her recently from his estate in the north. James had found happiness too. Perhaps just not in the way he had expected.

“This was always my dream,” she said, leaning back into his arms. He slid them around her waist, cuddling her, and kissed the warm nook between her shoulder and her neck.

“Mine too.”

She turned her head, seeking his lips, losing herself in him. “Patience, my love,” he murmured, with a smile. “We will have our time soon enough.”

His eyes delved into hers, seeking something and finding it, because his smile broadened. “I love you,” he whispered.

She cupped his hand over his cheek. “I love you too,” she said, “always and forever.”