Part 42 (1/2)

Absurdly like an opera dancer.

The whole event, as delighted onlookers would later declare, was quite a show.

”John-” she began. Apologetically. But, G.o.d help her, impatiently.

He shook his head roughly. ”I couldn't bear it if you were kind, Olivia.” He sounded faintly, ironically bitter. ”Just go to-”

He was about to say ”him,” but she didn't hear it, because she'd already leaped like a stag and bolted down the aisle, her silver-trimmed wedding dress hiked in both fists, running for her life after Lyon Redmond.

Chapter 23.

SHE BURST OUT OF the church door, which closed with a resounding, very final-sounding thud behind her as she pushed through.

Two men appeared from seemingly nowhere and neatly barred it so no one could come after her.

She swiveled in some surprise.

Lyon's crew. They'd clearly had instructions.

As usual, he'd planned ahead.

But where the devil was he?

Then she whipped her head about like a weathervane, searching for him. Not in the churchyard, hidden among all the stones she knew so well.

He'd vanished.

She swore an oath that widened even the eyes of the men standing guard at the door. But perhaps they were under instructions not to tell her.

Then she saw the door to the bell tower open a few inches.

She dashed over to it, pushed it open and ran up the stairs, tripping once, tearing the silver-trimmed hem.

And when she was at the top, her lungs heaving like bellows she stopped.

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, opposite the bell, in a pool of sunlight.

One step ahead of her, as usual.

He would always know what she needed before she did.

For a time, her breathing was the only sound, and it echoed in the tower.

And then: ”Those were the worst few moments of my life.”

His voice was husky.

She wasn't ready to forgive him. Or to speak. Or to do anything but keep him in sight, lest he disappear again.

Because she had come to claim him now.

”They were also the best moments of my life,” he added.

She still couldn't speak. Her Lyon. Standing here in Pennyroyal Green, in Suss.e.x.

Silence.

A long sunbeam sent the dust motes gyrating in a celebratory dance.

”If you're wondering about the disguise . . .” He gestured to the tattered beggar's coat, now crumpled on the ground. ”. . . when I learned you were to be married, I wasn't certain if I even wanted to see you. I wasn't certain if I ever wanted to come back to England. I didn't know if you were the same person I left. I didn't know whether you were happy with Landsdowne, and your happiness was all I ever wanted. I should have known . . .”

He paused.

”I should have known I would go to the ends of the earth for you. I was born loving you. And no matter what, I would have fought for you.”

She still couldn't speak. With him, words had always been either unnecessary or never enough.

”It nearly killed me to do it. But I was right to send you away.”

It was both a question and a statement.

But his voice had a husked edge, betraying his uncertainty. He was beginning to worry about her silence.

And because she never lied, and because she couldn't bear his suffering, the first word she finally said was: ”Yes.”

The word she should have said to him so many years ago. Yes, I'll go with you. Yes, I'll be with you. Yes, I believe in you. Yes, you are my life and my love and my destiny. Of course.

Then again, it had taken everything up to this moment to understand all of this.

But her voice was shockingly small and frayed and she knew she was going to cry.

”I love you,” she added hurriedly. Because she'd longed to say it to him, and she couldn't wait a moment longer. ”I always have. I always will.”

Those ought to be the wedding vows, Olivia thought. No one would ever utter those words lightly.

Her words chimed in the room like a bell.

He drew in a long breath, like a man who'd been under water too long.

He strolled over to her, casually, easily, as if to say, ”Look. Now we have all the time in the world.” He gave her a handkerchief. She took it and rubbed her fingers gently over the corner where his initials were st.i.tched.

She knew how her own handkerchiefs would be embroidered from now on: ”OKR.” Olivia Katherine Redmond.

”You knew what I would do today,” she said, dabbing her eyes.

”Of course. Still, it shaved years off my life.”