In His Eyes(99)

“You were?”

“Yes.” He ran his thumb down the curve of her jaw. “Now it seems I will have to face a court marshal and the consequences of taking absence without leave, but when that is finished, I would like to come home to you.” He ran the pad of his thumb over her lips. “That is, if you would let me.”

“Oh, Westley,” Ella said on a sigh. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

The warm air swirled around them, and he lowered his lips to hers. Ella fell into him, breathless. She slid her hands up his back, caught up in the expression of love that so filled two hearts that it had no choice but to flow through their lips.

Westley held her tightly, and her heart soared. He would be her husband in truth, and she would be his wife. Ella pushed up on her toes and deepened the kiss, allowing her fingers to splay through his hair. He breathed hard and pulled away from her.

“I love you, Mrs. Remington.”

“And I you.”

Then he pulled her into his arms once more. And as he led her away toward home, Ella thought that somewhere in the place beyond them, she could hear a sweet symphony of beauty and light playing the song of love.





Belmont Plantation

Spring, 1871


Ella dipped her paintbrush and made the final stroke. She’d spent months trying to capture everything just right. The birds sang their delight over a perfect day, and Ella set down her paints and leaned back to examine her work. Not exact, but it would do.

A happy little squeal added to the bird’s choir. Ella smiled and leaned over to look into the cradle. “Well, hello, little lass. Awake from our nap, are we?”

Her seven month old daughter cooed, her toothless grin infectious. Ella laughed and pulled off her painting apron before lifting the child from the cradle and setting her on her hip. The front door banged open and Basil scurried out.

“Now where did he go?”

Ella cocked her eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost Lee again.”

Basil put her hands on her hips. “You know he think it funny to slip out of them lessons and run off.”

Sibby came outside, hauling Lee by one ear. “Here he be. I done found him in my kitchen trying to sneak off with one of my turnovers.”

The little boy poked out his lip, his dark eyes part mischief, part pleading. “But Mama, I was hungry, and I already finished my lessons.”

Sibby let go of his ear and crossed her arms. “Then why didn’t you just ask me for one of dem tarts, little man?” She ruffled his dark hair. “You knows I woulda give you one.”

His lips turned up. “I know. But I wanted to see if I could get it without you seeing me. I’m going to be a soldier like my daddy, and a good soldier has to be able to sneak up on folks without them seeing.”

Westley stepped up on to the front porch, the hitch in his gait still evident after all these years, but it did not pain him anymore. He pulled his hat from his head and tucked it under the arm of his cream-colored linen suit. My, but the man was handsome. His gaze slid up to her and he smiled. Even after six years of blissful union, that smile still sent shivers all the way down to her toes.

Westley turned his attention on their son. “What’s this I hear about sneaking up on people?”

Lee bounded over to Westley and grinned. “I was telling Sibby that I was sneaking like a soldier is supposed to do.”

“Oh?” Westley tapped his chin in thought. “What happened to being a banker?”

He lifted his little shoulders. “That was last week. This week I want to be a soldier like you.”

Westley smiled. “I’m not a soldier anymore.” He looked up at Ella and winked. “I like being home with your mama too much.”

Lee furrowed his brow. “Why you looking at each other so funny?”

Westley chuckled. “Go on and get yourself a treat, boy, and then go up to your room and do an extra lesson for giving poor Basil so much trouble.”

Lee pouted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yes, sir.” He trudged back inside, but a moment later poked his head back out. “But when I finish can we go fishing?”

Westley laughed. “Only if you do all of your letters correctly.”

Lee gave his father a serious look and made a salute. “Yes, sir!” Then he dashed back into the house, leaving Sibby and Basil to scramble after him.

Westley wrapped his arm around Ella’s shoulder and looked down at the baby. “I think Ailsa’s hair gets to be more like yours every day.”

Ella smiled. “She still has your eyes, though.”

Westley chuckled. “They might be shaped like mine, but where she got that stormy blue, God only knows.”

Ella smiled and pressed into Westley’s side. “Come, I have finished my painting.”

Westley followed her to the canvas. “You are finally going to let me see it?”

She laughed. “It is finally finished.”

Together they stood in front of the painting that would soon hang in their parlor, always to remind them of who they were and whose they were. The colors were not bright enough, but no paint on earth could emulate such beauty. She’d captured the way the grass swayed in the wind, and a majestic tree pointed its spires to the sky. Star-like leaves shone in the bright light, tinged with tiny bits of gold.