Page 68 of The Keeper and I

Interlude

Summer,1815

The sun warmed Caroline to her bones. She nuzzled further into Samuel’s side. His arm came around her shoulders and his fingers danced along the exposed skin of her arm. She closed her eyes at his touch and let herself forget that this was improper. They were in their hiding place by the cellar door. No one would look for them there.

“Samuel,” she said.

“Yes, my love?”

“Tell me about Scotland again. What will life be like when we go?”

She heard the rumble of a chuckle in his chest. “It won’t be as grand as all this. My family owns a wee cottage in the country that's been empty for years. Once we’re married, I thought we might use it as our first home.”

“Why has it been empty?”

“My parents lived there for a time, but my father caught illness and died. My mother moved to the city to work as a seamstress.”

“She owns her shop now, right?”

“That’s right, love, well remembered.”

She smiled at his praise. “You wouldn’t want to live close to her?”

“Not at first,” he said. “As much as I love my mother, I’ll be wanting you all to myself for several months at least.” He cupped her cheek, and she opened her eyes to meet his gaze. “That way I can ravish you as often as I like.”

Her face heated, and she looked away. It didn’t matter how many times they had been together, it still made her flush when he looked at her that way. And when spoke so brazenly about his desire for her, it made her head swim. Plus, she considered herself well ravished at this point.

His cheerful laugh made her swat playfully at his arm. “You’re a beast to tease me so.”

“And you, my love, are too sweet not to tease,” he said gently as his pointer finger traced her jaw.

She hummed and turned her face to kiss his palm.

“Tell me more,” she said. “I want to keep talking about our future.”

“How would you like to honeymoon on the Isle of Skye?”

“I’ve never been. Is it nice there?”

“There’s nothing like it, miles of green, and the views of the seaside are to die for.”

“Sounds heavenly.” She toyed with a loose string on one of his buttons. “And after the honeymoon? How will we live?”

“I’d like to start painting more and selling my art,” he told her, looking back at the clouds crawling across the blue sky. “Not the portraits of you, of course, but I could do landscapes or family portraits.”

“I think you’d do quite well,” she said. “I’m glad to hear you being so confident.”

It had taken months before he had shared his art with her. But she’d assured him of his talent and had even convinced her father to let him do their family portrait. The earl was so impressed that he hung it up in the library and promised Samuel extra pay if he would do individual portraits of each member of the family. Particularly, the earl himself and his eldest son, to go along with the portraits of the earls that came before, lining the walls of the gallery.

“You’ve given me that,” he said. “No one believed in my art before you.”

“They were foolish. You’re the next great master. I’m certain.”

He pulled her close and his lips captured hers with tender affection.

“Once we’re settled, I’ll make you big and round with my child,” he went on, lowering his hand to her tummy.

She ignored her instinct to push his hand away as he had shown her on several occasions how much he adored every curve on her body. A smile parted her lips as the image appeared to her of her belly poking out with life and Samuel’s hand there in that spot, maybe feeling their child kick. She returned her gaze to his face, which had shifted. His eyes were still warm, but his mouth was pressed into a tight line.