Part 43 (1/2)

”Adam!” Olivia sat up guiltily with a start.

Lyon put his hand gently on hers to rea.s.sure her.

”I made his acquaintance before the ceremony,” Lyon told her. ”And asked him to keep everyone seated, should you bolt after me. And I asked him to send everyone home, if you did bolt after me.”

Because Lyon, after all, was a planner.

Olivia sighed happily. ”He knows me better than I know myself.”

”Remarkable man, your Mr. Redmond, Olivia,” Adam said. Almost ruefully.

Adam had fallen in love with an unlikely woman and he'd needed to fight for her, too. His methods were different from Mr. Redmond's, but he knew without question when he was in the presence of true love, and it was holy.

”Remarkable man, your cousin the Reverend Sylvaine.” Lyon smiled at the vicar.

The two of them, each was certain, were destined to become friends.

”Will your own wedding be here in Pennyroyal Green?” Adam asked.

Olivia and Lyon looked at each other, and then turned to Adam, and together they said: ”Yes.”

AFTER THE WEDDING-or rather, after what was nearly a wedding-Isaiah Redmond retreated to his great s.h.i.+ning desk in his library, where he had made so many brilliant decisions in his lifetime and one or two extraordinarily poor ones. He was picturing Olivia Eversea's face this morning as she broke one man's heart and leaped, like some kind of fierce angel, down the aisle and bolted out the door, her face ablaze with the kind of love he'd seen only once before in his life.

In the face of Isolde Eversea when she'd looked at him.

Everyone present had said Olivia had bolted after Lyon.

Isaiah closed his eyes and breathed through the great, never-ending wound that was the loss of his oldest son.

He didn't know. He just didn't know.

His hands were shaking now. And it was too early to reach for the brandy and he didn't want to be that kind of man, but life had dealt one thing after another to him in the past few years, and Isaiah feared he was finally beginning to age.

A throat cleared politely at the entry of his office.

He turned absently, reluctantly from his reverie.

It was a footman. Whose eyes seemed unnaturally bright, and whose face was white.

”What is it?” Isaiah said tersely.

”Mr. Lyon Redmond here to see you, sir.”

Isaiah froze.

His breath stopped.

He half stood.

And slowly, slowly, his oldest son walked into the same room where he'd last seen him five years ago.

An elegant man. Shockingly handsome. But a hard man. Isaiah could see that at once. His presence was both so peaceful and so uncompromisingly confident that Isaiah couldn't speak through the weight of it.

Lyon was here. Lyon.

His stood in the center of the room before that s.h.i.+ning desk.

The silence rang.

And the clock as usual swung off minutes.

”Lyon . . .”

Isaiah's voice was a dry rasp.

”Please don't get up, Father.” He said this almost kindly.

Isaiah sat down again.

He didn't ask Lyon to sit. It was very clear Lyon didn't intend to. And Isaiah did not want to hear the rejection.

And all was silence of an almost holy kind. The room had always had a hush thanks to dense carpets and velvet upholstery and curtains.

Lyon had sailed wild seas and fought wild fights and seen lands far more dangerous.

And even though this was home, it had lost its power to intimidate. For Lyon understood his father better now than nearly anyone else in the world.

Isaiah drew in a ragged breath.

And then another.

He covered his eyes with one hand.

His shoulders swelled and fell again as he released a huge sigh. And for a moment he seemed to be absolutely motionless.

Until Lyon noticed that his father's shoulders were shaking.

Isaiah Redmond . . . was weeping.

Lyon waited. He wasn't unmoved, not entirely.

But he could not and would not be the person to comfort his father.

He didn't know who truly would, for Lyon knew that true comfort was found only with someone who knows your very heart. Lyon loved his mother with a fierce protectiveness. But it was entirely possible Isaiah was one of the loneliest men in the world. Which might be the great tragedy of Isaiah's life.

Isaiah finally sighed and took another deep breath.

He looked up at Lyon, his green eyes brilliant against the red now.

”You're an extraordinary man, Father. You always could bend nearly anything to your will. Except love.”