BUFFY Fic: Forgotten (9/9) -- B/S
Title: Forgotten
Author: Magz
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Summary: All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?
Notes: This is the Big Giant Spike/Buffy Bodice Ripper. There are actual heaving bosoms, and manly removals of corsets. Ohhh yeah.
PART NINE: Forgotten
The wedding of Winnie Winterton and Daniel Bradley was to be a grand affair, held at the Bradley estate in mid-June. Elizabeth hoped that she would become too ill to make the trip. She knew it was childish and selfish to want to avoid William, but she couldn't help it. Facing him after months apart would mean uncovering pain that was still fresh.
"What do you think of this color?" Winnie asked, holding an ivory silk gown up to her and dancing around slightly.
"It's lovely," Elizabeth replied noncommittally, still brooding.
The redhead tossed the gown aside and plopped gracelessly down next to her sister on her bed. "You've said that about every gown I've shown you," she said. "Surely there is a garment in the lot that's more than lovely. The white satin and lace with the full bodice, perhaps?"
"Yes, that one was quite nice," the blonde replied.
Winnie frowned. "There is no white satin and lace gown with a full bodice, Liz'beth," she said. She took her sister's hands in hers. "What is bothering you?"
"It's nothing," Elizabeth said, averting her eyes.
"Elizabeth Anne," the younger woman said sternly, "you know that you cannot keep secrets from me. Tell me what's troubling you. Is it William?"
Elizabeth flinched.
"You never told me what happened," Winnie said, looking concernedly at her sister. "Why did you come back?"
"It doesn't matter," the blonde insisted, pulling her hands from her sister's grasp. She stood and moved to the pile of gowns, looking through them absently.
"It does," the younger woman said. "You're brokenhearted, Elizabeth. It's so clear when I look at you. What did he do to you?"
Silk wrinkled beneath her hands as they clenched tightly. "He didn't love me," Elizabeth whispered.
"Did he tell you that?" Winnie walked around to face her older sister, tilting her head slightly and frowning a bit at her.
Elizabeth gave a tiny sigh. "He said that he couldn't love anyone. Not after what happened with Drusilla."
"But that was so long ago," the redhead said.
The elder of the two sisters laughed bitterly. "I know."
After awhile, Winnie spoke again. "I do so wish that you and William were still - "
"But we're not," Elizabeth interjected shortly.
"The manor will be dreadfully empty without you..."
The blonde wrapped her arms about herself silently. She would've cried, but her tears had dried up long ago.
A ruckus outside caught her attention then, so she crossed the room, stopping before the window and threw the curtains aside. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in shock as she took in the sight below her on the street.
William ran a hand through his short curls as he dismounted Black Lightning and handed the reins to a stable hand. He'd visited the spot in the meadow where his entire being had shattered, sat in the same place until dusk had begun to creep onto the countryside. After seven years, he was finally ready to let go.
He patted his stallion's neck once, then his muzzle, receiving an affectionate head butt from the horse, who snorted softly and docilely allowed himself to be led away by the stable boy. Then, pulling a silver flask from inside his waistcoat, he took a long swig, staggering slightly as he screwed the lid back on and headed for the manor. He swung the servant's entrance wide, stumbling through the house and up the stairs, headed for the master suite. "Liz'beth!" he slurred drunkenly. "I'm home! Did you miss me?"
Upon entering his wife's room, he flung his coat down on the bed. His face crumpled and he slumped to his knees. "Why'd you do it, Liz'beth?" he sobbed. "Why'd you leave me?"
"Because you're a stupid, drunken lout." Angel stood in the doorway, a look of pity on his face as he took in the sight of his once-noble cousin, weeping on the floor. "Willie, m'boy, it's time for someone t' step in an' knock some sense into ye." He stepped forward. "An' since I'm the only one bigger'n you, I'm just the man to do it. Come on, up with ye now."
William stared at his cousin for a moment, dazedly, before getting slowly to his feet.
Angel immediately took the shorter man by the arm, leading him out of the Lady's bedchamber at a brisk pace. "Let's go, let's go. Time's a'wastin'!"
"Where are we going?" William asked, stumbling along beside Angel.
"Not tellin' until we get there," the Irishman replied. You'd end up tryin' to fight me off, he thought, his mind on the tub of cold water that stood waiting in the garden.
"Alright," Lord Bradley said, smiling trustingly.
Five minutes later, Will was drenched from the waist up, fuming, and completely sober. "Enough!" he shouted, shoving away from Angel and shaking convulsively to rid his clothes of some of the water. "How dare y - "
Angel clamped his hand over his belligerent cousin's mouth, staunching the stream of curses. "Willie," he said in a low tone, "you've made an arse of yourself an' the Bradley name for th' last three months. Now shut your mouth an' keep hold of the last shreds 'f your dignity." He lowered his hand. "You should get into some dry clothes."
William shot Angel a scathing look but trudged back inside, waterlogged and clearheaded. His clothes dripped over the wood floors of the manor as they ascended the stairs and headed for the master suite.
"Will! You're soaking wet!" Daniel said as he approached from the opposite direction. "Did you fall into the pond?" Upon closer inspection, he realized that his brother was only wet from just above the waistband of his trousers to the top of his short-shorn curls. The younger Bradley brother looked at Angel. "You dunked him, didn't you?"
Angel shrugged. "He was soused," he said in explanation. "Again."
William glared at the taller man. "There are gentler ways of sobering a man up," he said.
The Irishman rolled his eyes. "When th' man who you're soberin' up has been drunk for three months, you don't 'ave time for gentle."
A violent shiver ran through Lord Bradley, stopping him from remarking rudely. "I think, perhaps," he said, "that I should dry myself before I catch my death of cold."
Daniel and Angel nodded. The red-haired man turned to his cousin. "Angel, I wish you luck. You will probably need it."
"Luck?" Angel laughed. "Nah. If he acts up, I'll box 'is ears. Come on, Willie."
The two dark-haired men continued toward the master suite. Once inside, William stripped off his wet shirt and flung it at Angel. It hit the larger man's chest with a loud slap.
"Now, was that really necessary?" Angel asked, holding the dripping garment between his thumb and forefinger before going to a window, opening it, and wringing the shirt out.
"I believe it was," William replied, picking up a piece of toweling. He dried his hair vigorously, then his face, then rubbed his arms and torso until they were water-free. The toweling dropped to the floor beside his closet. He pulled out a fresh shirt in gentlemen's white, then put it on and fastened it in the front. "Is there any reason for your rude awakening?" he asked then.
"As a matter 'f fact, yes," Angel said. "You were wastin' away. Drunk all th' time, weepin' like a babe about your wives leavin' you, instead of goin' to London an' apologizin' to Liz'beth."
Lord Bradley's chest constricted and his face threatened to crumple. "I drink because it dulls the pain and loneliness," he said quietly. "She didn't have to leave me, you know."
"Why did she?" Angel leaned against one of the bedposts, looking at his cousin concernedly.
"We had a quarrel," William said. "She told me she loved me, and... and I was frightened. She lashed out. Told me that I was an empty shell, and that she wanted more than that... that she was going to London to find it." His brow furrowed as he continued. "She said she'd take a lover..." He broke off on a small sob, pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes to stifle his tears.
"Do you love 'er, William?"
"Yes," he replied. "And if I continue to live without her..."
"Pack your things." Angel strode to the closet, pulling out several shirts and a few pairs of trousers, then tossed them on the bed.
"What?" William asked.
"If you love Liz'beth, go to 'er. Ride to London an' tell that pretty wife 'f yours what she means to you."
"But it's late..."
"An' the road is long. You'll make it there by late morn'. He rolled William's clothes up in a neat pack, tying it off with a belt. "Here. Take this - " he pressed the pack into William's arms, " - an' go to her." Angel pushed his stunned cousin toward the door, leading him outside once more toward the stables. He snapped his fingers and the stableman, who he'd told of his plans of intervention, led a rested, clean, and saddled Black Lightning out of his stall.
William gaped at Angel. "You planned this, didn't you?" he asked.
"Ask me again when you've got your wife back," the Irishman replied. "Get on, then." He took the pack from William and tied it to the back of Black Lightning's saddle while the lord of the manor climbed atop the horse.
"Angel - "
"Ride like the wind, Willie," he said, slapping Black Lightning's flanks. The stallion took off at a gallop, with William clutching the reins and saddle horn, and raced through the open doors of the stable toward the road. "God willin', it's not too late."
William rode through the night and the early morning to London, finally arriving in front of the Winterton townhouse at ten-fifteen. He was tired, he was sore, but he would not collapse from exhaustion until he saw Elizabeth and begged her forgiveness. Gingerly, he got down from Black Lightning's back, leading the horse to the front gate. He looped the reins around the gatepost, tying his horse there for the moment, then stepped through the gate, striding up the walkway and rapping vigorously on the front door with the brass knocker.
Harrington opened the door. "Sir?" he asked, looking over the nobleman, who was covered in dust from the ride, and whose one-day's growth of beard made him look like a criminal.
"Is my wife here?" William asked.
Harrington hesitated before replying. "I've had orders not to allow you inside this house, sir. I'm sorry."
William snapped. "Damn it, man! My wife is in there. Let me in!" he shouted.
The butler didn't even flinch. "I'm sorry, sir," he said again, closing the door.
William stared at the door for a moment, in shock, before staggering backwards down the walkway. He turned to leave, but thought better of it, whirled around, took a deep breath, and screamed hoarsely, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth, let me in! Please!"
A movement at one of the windows caught his eye, and he ran over to that area of the building. "Elizabeth!" he shouted again as she opened the window. "I love you! Please, please, let me in!" He was breathing hard, staring up at his wife, begging her with his eyes to reply.
Tears glistened in Elizabeth's eyes. "Say it again, and I shall tell Harrington to show you inside," she called.
A brilliant smile burst over William's features as his own tears began to fall. "I love you," he repeated, more quietly this time.
Moments later, the front door opened. Harrington stepped aside as William ran into the house, calling his wife's name.
"Will!" the blonde cried, hurrying out into the hallway. "I'm here!"
"Elizabeth!" he exclaimed again, taking the stairs three at a time. He ran down the hall to where his wife stood waiting with open arms, collapsing onto his knees at her feet and pressing his face against her belly. Her skirts muffled his sobs of joy as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, vowing to himself never to let her go again.
Elizabeth stroked his hair, holding him to her. When he got to his feet again, he lifted her up, kissing her desperately. "I love you," she murmured against his lips before the kiss deepened.
The kisses tasted of their tears. William pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you," he whispered. "Forgive me, my beautiful, beautiful darling... I'd forgotten how to love..."
"I forgave you the moment you came for me," she replied, kissing his cheek, the corner of his lips.
"Come home with me," he beseeched, stepping away slightly to run his hands up and down her arms.
She reached up and wiped his tears away with her thumbs. "With you, I'm always home," she said.
EPILOGUE
Shrieking with laughter, three-year-old John Bradley raced through the meadow with his father close behind him. The breeze rumpled the young boy's mop of auburn hair as he tore across the grassland to the shaded area where his mother rested on their picnic blanket.
"You won't catch me, Papa!" he shouted, running as fast as his little legs would carry him. "I'm the fastest boy in all the land!"
Moments later, John was caught up in his father's arms. Laughing, William spun his son around and tossed him in the air, catching him as he squealed and giggled and kicked his feet. "It's time for the fastest boy in the land to eat his luncheon," he said, grinning at John. "And then we'll go exploring."
John ran over to his mother, giving her a hug and a wet little boy kiss. "Is the baby sleeping, Mummy?" he asked, placing one hand on her swollen belly.
Elizabeth ruffled John's hair, kissing his temple. "Yes, the baby's asleep, sweetheart," she said. "Though, with the amount of noise you and your father were making, the baby could wake up any minute." She placed a hand over John's as he stared down at her lightly protruding belly in fascination. "Only a few more months, and you'll have a little brother or sister."
"And we'll name the baby 'Buttercup'!" John exclaimed. He bounded off again, but returned quickly and sat down on the blanket beneath the trees.
"Have you been telling our son stories, again, Elizabeth?" William asked as he unpacked the food that Margaret had prepared.
She looked at him innocently, with wide eyes. "I'd never do such a thing," she said. "Come sit by me, Will."
Lord Bradley reclined on the blanket next to his wife, kissing her softly. "I love you," he said, kissing her again before moving down to rest his head on her belly.
John made a face. "You're always kissing," he said.
"One day you might like kissing, too," Elizabeth replied.
"Do you have to do it all the time?" the auburn-haired boy asked.
William launched himself at his son then, grabbing him and tickling him mercilessly. "John," he said after a moment, still tickling the boy, "when you find a lady who is as nice, and as pretty as your Mum is, you won't mind the kissing bits at all."
"Stop, stop!" John squealed. "Papa, don't!" He giggled uproariously, squirming away from his father's hands.
William stopped.
"Alright, I don't mind if you kiss Mummy," John said after awhile. He looked down at his feet; a mischievous grin spread across his face, then he tackled William, causing him to fall over onto his back. Father and son laughed, tickled, and hugged, while Elizabeth watched in amusement.
"I hope you're a girl," she said to her pregnant belly. "Your Papa and brother are handfuls."
"Mummy, can we listen to the baby?" John asked, crouching down next to her.
She looked from one side to the other. William sat to her right. He reached out and cupped her face, and she mouthed 'I love you' before turning to John, seated on her opposite side. "Of course you can listen to the baby," she said.
Immediately, two heads, covered in soft curls, rested against her abdomen. She leaned back against the pillows that they'd brought with them. "They're handfuls," she said to her unborn child, tangling her fingers in her husband's and son's hair, "but they're my handfuls."
END
Author: Magz
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Summary: All-human AU. Elizabeth's one wish was to marry someone she loved. But when her father arranges a marriage between herself and the arrogant, devilishly handsome widower Lord William Bradley, she's shipped off from the home she's known all her life to live with a man she can barely stand. William's mind is filled with bittersweet memories of his late first wife, but his body craves the innocent touch of the blonde beauty he's married. What happens when they accidentally fall headlong into love?
Notes: This is the Big Giant Spike/Buffy Bodice Ripper. There are actual heaving bosoms, and manly removals of corsets. Ohhh yeah.
PART NINE: Forgotten
The wedding of Winnie Winterton and Daniel Bradley was to be a grand affair, held at the Bradley estate in mid-June. Elizabeth hoped that she would become too ill to make the trip. She knew it was childish and selfish to want to avoid William, but she couldn't help it. Facing him after months apart would mean uncovering pain that was still fresh.
"What do you think of this color?" Winnie asked, holding an ivory silk gown up to her and dancing around slightly.
"It's lovely," Elizabeth replied noncommittally, still brooding.
The redhead tossed the gown aside and plopped gracelessly down next to her sister on her bed. "You've said that about every gown I've shown you," she said. "Surely there is a garment in the lot that's more than lovely. The white satin and lace with the full bodice, perhaps?"
"Yes, that one was quite nice," the blonde replied.
Winnie frowned. "There is no white satin and lace gown with a full bodice, Liz'beth," she said. She took her sister's hands in hers. "What is bothering you?"
"It's nothing," Elizabeth said, averting her eyes.
"Elizabeth Anne," the younger woman said sternly, "you know that you cannot keep secrets from me. Tell me what's troubling you. Is it William?"
Elizabeth flinched.
"You never told me what happened," Winnie said, looking concernedly at her sister. "Why did you come back?"
"It doesn't matter," the blonde insisted, pulling her hands from her sister's grasp. She stood and moved to the pile of gowns, looking through them absently.
"It does," the younger woman said. "You're brokenhearted, Elizabeth. It's so clear when I look at you. What did he do to you?"
Silk wrinkled beneath her hands as they clenched tightly. "He didn't love me," Elizabeth whispered.
"Did he tell you that?" Winnie walked around to face her older sister, tilting her head slightly and frowning a bit at her.
Elizabeth gave a tiny sigh. "He said that he couldn't love anyone. Not after what happened with Drusilla."
"But that was so long ago," the redhead said.
The elder of the two sisters laughed bitterly. "I know."
After awhile, Winnie spoke again. "I do so wish that you and William were still - "
"But we're not," Elizabeth interjected shortly.
"The manor will be dreadfully empty without you..."
The blonde wrapped her arms about herself silently. She would've cried, but her tears had dried up long ago.
A ruckus outside caught her attention then, so she crossed the room, stopping before the window and threw the curtains aside. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in shock as she took in the sight below her on the street.
William ran a hand through his short curls as he dismounted Black Lightning and handed the reins to a stable hand. He'd visited the spot in the meadow where his entire being had shattered, sat in the same place until dusk had begun to creep onto the countryside. After seven years, he was finally ready to let go.
He patted his stallion's neck once, then his muzzle, receiving an affectionate head butt from the horse, who snorted softly and docilely allowed himself to be led away by the stable boy. Then, pulling a silver flask from inside his waistcoat, he took a long swig, staggering slightly as he screwed the lid back on and headed for the manor. He swung the servant's entrance wide, stumbling through the house and up the stairs, headed for the master suite. "Liz'beth!" he slurred drunkenly. "I'm home! Did you miss me?"
Upon entering his wife's room, he flung his coat down on the bed. His face crumpled and he slumped to his knees. "Why'd you do it, Liz'beth?" he sobbed. "Why'd you leave me?"
"Because you're a stupid, drunken lout." Angel stood in the doorway, a look of pity on his face as he took in the sight of his once-noble cousin, weeping on the floor. "Willie, m'boy, it's time for someone t' step in an' knock some sense into ye." He stepped forward. "An' since I'm the only one bigger'n you, I'm just the man to do it. Come on, up with ye now."
William stared at his cousin for a moment, dazedly, before getting slowly to his feet.
Angel immediately took the shorter man by the arm, leading him out of the Lady's bedchamber at a brisk pace. "Let's go, let's go. Time's a'wastin'!"
"Where are we going?" William asked, stumbling along beside Angel.
"Not tellin' until we get there," the Irishman replied. You'd end up tryin' to fight me off, he thought, his mind on the tub of cold water that stood waiting in the garden.
"Alright," Lord Bradley said, smiling trustingly.
Five minutes later, Will was drenched from the waist up, fuming, and completely sober. "Enough!" he shouted, shoving away from Angel and shaking convulsively to rid his clothes of some of the water. "How dare y - "
Angel clamped his hand over his belligerent cousin's mouth, staunching the stream of curses. "Willie," he said in a low tone, "you've made an arse of yourself an' the Bradley name for th' last three months. Now shut your mouth an' keep hold of the last shreds 'f your dignity." He lowered his hand. "You should get into some dry clothes."
William shot Angel a scathing look but trudged back inside, waterlogged and clearheaded. His clothes dripped over the wood floors of the manor as they ascended the stairs and headed for the master suite.
"Will! You're soaking wet!" Daniel said as he approached from the opposite direction. "Did you fall into the pond?" Upon closer inspection, he realized that his brother was only wet from just above the waistband of his trousers to the top of his short-shorn curls. The younger Bradley brother looked at Angel. "You dunked him, didn't you?"
Angel shrugged. "He was soused," he said in explanation. "Again."
William glared at the taller man. "There are gentler ways of sobering a man up," he said.
The Irishman rolled his eyes. "When th' man who you're soberin' up has been drunk for three months, you don't 'ave time for gentle."
A violent shiver ran through Lord Bradley, stopping him from remarking rudely. "I think, perhaps," he said, "that I should dry myself before I catch my death of cold."
Daniel and Angel nodded. The red-haired man turned to his cousin. "Angel, I wish you luck. You will probably need it."
"Luck?" Angel laughed. "Nah. If he acts up, I'll box 'is ears. Come on, Willie."
The two dark-haired men continued toward the master suite. Once inside, William stripped off his wet shirt and flung it at Angel. It hit the larger man's chest with a loud slap.
"Now, was that really necessary?" Angel asked, holding the dripping garment between his thumb and forefinger before going to a window, opening it, and wringing the shirt out.
"I believe it was," William replied, picking up a piece of toweling. He dried his hair vigorously, then his face, then rubbed his arms and torso until they were water-free. The toweling dropped to the floor beside his closet. He pulled out a fresh shirt in gentlemen's white, then put it on and fastened it in the front. "Is there any reason for your rude awakening?" he asked then.
"As a matter 'f fact, yes," Angel said. "You were wastin' away. Drunk all th' time, weepin' like a babe about your wives leavin' you, instead of goin' to London an' apologizin' to Liz'beth."
Lord Bradley's chest constricted and his face threatened to crumple. "I drink because it dulls the pain and loneliness," he said quietly. "She didn't have to leave me, you know."
"Why did she?" Angel leaned against one of the bedposts, looking at his cousin concernedly.
"We had a quarrel," William said. "She told me she loved me, and... and I was frightened. She lashed out. Told me that I was an empty shell, and that she wanted more than that... that she was going to London to find it." His brow furrowed as he continued. "She said she'd take a lover..." He broke off on a small sob, pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes to stifle his tears.
"Do you love 'er, William?"
"Yes," he replied. "And if I continue to live without her..."
"Pack your things." Angel strode to the closet, pulling out several shirts and a few pairs of trousers, then tossed them on the bed.
"What?" William asked.
"If you love Liz'beth, go to 'er. Ride to London an' tell that pretty wife 'f yours what she means to you."
"But it's late..."
"An' the road is long. You'll make it there by late morn'. He rolled William's clothes up in a neat pack, tying it off with a belt. "Here. Take this - " he pressed the pack into William's arms, " - an' go to her." Angel pushed his stunned cousin toward the door, leading him outside once more toward the stables. He snapped his fingers and the stableman, who he'd told of his plans of intervention, led a rested, clean, and saddled Black Lightning out of his stall.
William gaped at Angel. "You planned this, didn't you?" he asked.
"Ask me again when you've got your wife back," the Irishman replied. "Get on, then." He took the pack from William and tied it to the back of Black Lightning's saddle while the lord of the manor climbed atop the horse.
"Angel - "
"Ride like the wind, Willie," he said, slapping Black Lightning's flanks. The stallion took off at a gallop, with William clutching the reins and saddle horn, and raced through the open doors of the stable toward the road. "God willin', it's not too late."
William rode through the night and the early morning to London, finally arriving in front of the Winterton townhouse at ten-fifteen. He was tired, he was sore, but he would not collapse from exhaustion until he saw Elizabeth and begged her forgiveness. Gingerly, he got down from Black Lightning's back, leading the horse to the front gate. He looped the reins around the gatepost, tying his horse there for the moment, then stepped through the gate, striding up the walkway and rapping vigorously on the front door with the brass knocker.
Harrington opened the door. "Sir?" he asked, looking over the nobleman, who was covered in dust from the ride, and whose one-day's growth of beard made him look like a criminal.
"Is my wife here?" William asked.
Harrington hesitated before replying. "I've had orders not to allow you inside this house, sir. I'm sorry."
William snapped. "Damn it, man! My wife is in there. Let me in!" he shouted.
The butler didn't even flinch. "I'm sorry, sir," he said again, closing the door.
William stared at the door for a moment, in shock, before staggering backwards down the walkway. He turned to leave, but thought better of it, whirled around, took a deep breath, and screamed hoarsely, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth, let me in! Please!"
A movement at one of the windows caught his eye, and he ran over to that area of the building. "Elizabeth!" he shouted again as she opened the window. "I love you! Please, please, let me in!" He was breathing hard, staring up at his wife, begging her with his eyes to reply.
Tears glistened in Elizabeth's eyes. "Say it again, and I shall tell Harrington to show you inside," she called.
A brilliant smile burst over William's features as his own tears began to fall. "I love you," he repeated, more quietly this time.
Moments later, the front door opened. Harrington stepped aside as William ran into the house, calling his wife's name.
"Will!" the blonde cried, hurrying out into the hallway. "I'm here!"
"Elizabeth!" he exclaimed again, taking the stairs three at a time. He ran down the hall to where his wife stood waiting with open arms, collapsing onto his knees at her feet and pressing his face against her belly. Her skirts muffled his sobs of joy as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, vowing to himself never to let her go again.
Elizabeth stroked his hair, holding him to her. When he got to his feet again, he lifted her up, kissing her desperately. "I love you," she murmured against his lips before the kiss deepened.
The kisses tasted of their tears. William pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you," he whispered. "Forgive me, my beautiful, beautiful darling... I'd forgotten how to love..."
"I forgave you the moment you came for me," she replied, kissing his cheek, the corner of his lips.
"Come home with me," he beseeched, stepping away slightly to run his hands up and down her arms.
She reached up and wiped his tears away with her thumbs. "With you, I'm always home," she said.
EPILOGUE
Shrieking with laughter, three-year-old John Bradley raced through the meadow with his father close behind him. The breeze rumpled the young boy's mop of auburn hair as he tore across the grassland to the shaded area where his mother rested on their picnic blanket.
"You won't catch me, Papa!" he shouted, running as fast as his little legs would carry him. "I'm the fastest boy in all the land!"
Moments later, John was caught up in his father's arms. Laughing, William spun his son around and tossed him in the air, catching him as he squealed and giggled and kicked his feet. "It's time for the fastest boy in the land to eat his luncheon," he said, grinning at John. "And then we'll go exploring."
John ran over to his mother, giving her a hug and a wet little boy kiss. "Is the baby sleeping, Mummy?" he asked, placing one hand on her swollen belly.
Elizabeth ruffled John's hair, kissing his temple. "Yes, the baby's asleep, sweetheart," she said. "Though, with the amount of noise you and your father were making, the baby could wake up any minute." She placed a hand over John's as he stared down at her lightly protruding belly in fascination. "Only a few more months, and you'll have a little brother or sister."
"And we'll name the baby 'Buttercup'!" John exclaimed. He bounded off again, but returned quickly and sat down on the blanket beneath the trees.
"Have you been telling our son stories, again, Elizabeth?" William asked as he unpacked the food that Margaret had prepared.
She looked at him innocently, with wide eyes. "I'd never do such a thing," she said. "Come sit by me, Will."
Lord Bradley reclined on the blanket next to his wife, kissing her softly. "I love you," he said, kissing her again before moving down to rest his head on her belly.
John made a face. "You're always kissing," he said.
"One day you might like kissing, too," Elizabeth replied.
"Do you have to do it all the time?" the auburn-haired boy asked.
William launched himself at his son then, grabbing him and tickling him mercilessly. "John," he said after a moment, still tickling the boy, "when you find a lady who is as nice, and as pretty as your Mum is, you won't mind the kissing bits at all."
"Stop, stop!" John squealed. "Papa, don't!" He giggled uproariously, squirming away from his father's hands.
William stopped.
"Alright, I don't mind if you kiss Mummy," John said after awhile. He looked down at his feet; a mischievous grin spread across his face, then he tackled William, causing him to fall over onto his back. Father and son laughed, tickled, and hugged, while Elizabeth watched in amusement.
"I hope you're a girl," she said to her pregnant belly. "Your Papa and brother are handfuls."
"Mummy, can we listen to the baby?" John asked, crouching down next to her.
She looked from one side to the other. William sat to her right. He reached out and cupped her face, and she mouthed 'I love you' before turning to John, seated on her opposite side. "Of course you can listen to the baby," she said.
Immediately, two heads, covered in soft curls, rested against her abdomen. She leaned back against the pillows that they'd brought with them. "They're handfuls," she said to her unborn child, tangling her fingers in her husband's and son's hair, "but they're my handfuls."
END