Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
It was the right time, the perfect time, and I wasn’t going to squander it.
I turned my head and whispered, “I’m in love with you, Battle Talyn.”
In response, his face came out of my neck and his mouth took mine in a branding kiss as he shifted his hips and his thrusts slammed into me.
I fisted my hand in his hair, grasped his tight clenching ass in my other, and used my heels in his thighs as leverage to lift my hips to meet his drives.
The whimper that warned of my impending climax vibrated against his tongue, he growled in return, then my moan of orgasm mingled with his groan of the same, and we came simultaneously.
Oh yes.
It was the perfect time.
He glided inside me for a while as he gentled our kiss, before he planted himself and traced his mouth to my ear.
And there, he said, “I’m in love with you too, Vivienne Dupree.”
The best part about that?
I didn’t question it.
Because I already knew it.
Undeniably.
CHAPTER 26
THE CLIPPINGS
I was out in the studio, studying a picture of Harmony alongside a picture of Charlie.
It was Tuesday, a week and two days after we got back from the wedding.
Battle and Tempie were in London.
They were returning together tomorrow evening, because the folks from the auction house were coming to get the stuff from the attics, and since it was such a huge job, Tempie wanted to help Prue oversee that, and Prue wanted Tempie’s help.
Battle was coming home because he still worked from The Downs half a week, no longer to be there to look after Chassie, but to be close to me.
And yes, him making that effort, changing his work schedule like that, made me feel all squidgy.
I’d arrived at a place in my book where it was now time to turn my attention to the ill-fated love affair of a duke’s daughter and an injured American soldier.
And for the first time, I was seeing something eerie.
The pictures were in black and white, but even so, Harmony was blonde.
Like me.
She was also not petite or dainty.
Like I wasn’t.
And Great-Granddad Charlie was dark-haired, dark-eyed, tall, fit and handsome.
Like Battle.
Those were the only similarities.
I didn’t look like Harmony, and Great-Granddad Charlie didn’t look like Battle.
But Harmony didn’t resemble any of the other Talyns (and from perusing many pictures, this seemed a trait in that family).
More to the point, I looked not a thing like Great-Granddad Charlie. Neither did Mom or Solène.
I dropped the photos to the desk, telling Snowball, “Now I’m just looking for weird shit to get to me.”
Snowball had no response.
But I knew I was being stupid.
Nothing the least bit strange had happened since the cats tripped me into falling into Chassie’s room, and so much time had passed, I was now feeling like a huge dork that I thought there was anything weird about it.
I gazed out the windows at the rainy, dreary day (Prue told me May and September were usually very fine, but June, July and August were hit and miss, a lot of miss, and the weather was proving her right).
I was doing this gazing while trying to decide if I should go back to my laptop or call the house for an afternoon snack and a Fanta orange, when my phone vibrated.
It was Battle.
I took the call. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he replied.
My I’m-speaking-to-the-love-of-my-life antennae zinged at the tone in his voice.
Before I could ask after it, he asked his own question.
“Are you writing?”
“No. I was about to call to the house for a snack.”
“So I’m not interrupting?”
Oh yeah.
That tone was still in his voice. I’d just never heard him sound like that before—flat, dull—so it was tweaking me.
“Yes, I can descend into a book,” I reiterated. “Yes, it would annoy me if I was consistently interrupted while writing it. But no, even if I was writing, I’d want to hear from you just because I always want to hear from you. So…what’s up?”
“Mum rang.”
My head shook so violently at this news, I might have given myself whiplash.
But I couldn’t concentrate on having possibly given myself a neck injury.
“Your mother called you?”
“I haven’t heard from her in twenty-two years. But, yes. I just got off the phone with her.”
“Oh my God, Battle. What the fuck? What did she say?”
“Apparently, she had some friends at Rally and Court’s wedding. One of them called to chat and shared that her children were there, and even though Tempie was very with Hamish, and Chassie was with Christian, the only thing Mum cared about was that her friend told her we seemed very close. Therefore, she phoned in order to understand, should I marry, if she can continue to use her title.”
I sat, stunned silent.
No, I sat, pissed-off silent.
Called to chat and shared that her children were there?
What kind of person was a friend who casually dropped, “Hey, saw your kids you haven’t bothered yourself with in decades. Don’t worry about the youngest three, but the eldest is seriously hooked up. So you might want to check the status of your title.”