“I know,” Ian said. “And fortunately, Gerard never used his influence in your case unduly. I get the impression he was very methodical and very patient in the way he set up his chess game, getting all the circumstances and players just right. And it was never you he wanted revenge upon, Grandfather. It was me.”

“All because of James’s properties and money?” Anne asked, looking both stunned and outraged at once. “I can’t believe it. And to think, we had no idea he was so affected by your arrival when you were a child, Ian.”

“It changed the outline of his life, my showing up here one day out of nowhere. It’s disappointing, and it’s very upsetting, what Gerard did,” Ian said quietly. “But it’s not outside the realm of believability.”

James sighed, and again Francesca’s heart ached for him. “We’ve never mentioned it, but Gerard did frequently wonder about your mental stability in our presence. I suppose it was all part of his manipulation to make us think it was possible you could take your own and Francesca’s life. We were concerned for you, but we never doubted your sanity, Ian. We knew your torment was of the emotional variety.”

Ian stroked the back of Francesca’s hand. She turned over her palm and squeezed him for comfort. “It was a hard time for me. And I suppose people really have gone over the edge from less. There were times in the months when I was at Aurore, before I returned to Belford, that I could almost agree with Gerard’s insinuations. I’m not surprised you were worried,” he told his Grandfather sincerely before he exhaled. “At any rate, once Gerard learned what I was doing in my absence, and understood who Trevor Gaines was, he must have been ecstatic to be provided with such an ideal setting for my downfall. I was at the desolate country manor of a condemned criminal and obsessed madman. The perfect place for Trevor Gaines’s son from rape to finally tip over the edge.”

“I can’t believe these thoughts ever went through his mind,” Anne said numbly. “I can’t believe that, let alone that he’d act on them. He shot that man Brodsik in cold blood, right in this house?”

Ian nodded. “I suspect he invited him here, although we’ll probably never know the exact circumstances.”

“It’s positively diabolical,” James said. His face looked gray. Francesca looked at Ian anxiously.

“It’s over,” Ian said firmly. “It’s all over, and we’re safe. I only wanted to tell you because Markov also wanted to pass the news on to you. The murder occurred in your home, after all, and he owes you an explanation about the resolution of the investigation. I told him I would break the news first.”

James inhaled slowly. “And I appreciate it, son.”

“Are you all right?” Francesca asked James softly after a moment.

James seemed to try and rally, but she saw his struggle to do so. He grabbed Anne’s hand. “I’ll be better, to be honest, after a good night’s sleep,” he said with false cheerfulness. “I’d like nothing better than to leave all this in the past.”

“I agree,” Anne said. “Especially on such a beautiful night when we’ve just put up Francesca’s painting and have so much to be thankful for.”

“We do have so much to be thankful for.”

Anne blinked, her gaze sharpening on Francesca when she spoke so fervently. Francesca smiled, knowing her secret was undisguised in her eyes, and that Anne, who was no fool, was reading it. An uncanny expression flickered across Anne’s face. Francesca exchanged a meaningful look with Ian. It’d felt like a miracle, to be able to share such a precious gift with him, but to share it with Anne and James felt wonderful as well.

“We have more news,” Ian said. “Much, much nicer news.”

“No . . .” Anne whispered. “Yes?” she asked hopefully when Francesca just continued to beam at her.

“What? What’s going on?” James asked dubiously.

“Ian and Francesca are going to have a baby?” Anne asked tremulously, hope and incredulity twining in her voice.

Ian pulled Francesca close and she hugged him in turn, pressing her cheek to his chest while still looking at Anne and James.

“Yes, we’re going to have a baby,” Ian said, his deep voice gruff. “Francesca is always telling me I need to think about the future, not the past. Now it’s all I think of.”

James gave a bark of exultant laughter, all of his weariness over the talk of Gerard vanishing, twenty years seeming to melt off his visage in an instant. Anne gave an adorable little whoop of joy and took an unladylike gulp of her brandy, her eyes shining with happiness as she hugged her husband.

Francesca put her hand on Ian’s chest, silently absorbing his warmth and the steady, strong beat of his heart, and basked in the moment.

* * *

Anne and James celebrated with them for a while and asked all the usual questions: How far along was she? Eight weeks. How long had she known she was pregnant? Since last weekend; Ian and she had gone together to a doctor in Belford. Where would the baby be born? At Belford, if it was all right with Anne and James. (It was beyond all right of course. The couple was ecstatic at the idea.) Ian and she had liked the doctor at the hospital in Belford very much, but they’d also guessed at Anne and James’s reaction to the plan. They’d agreed they wanted to give their grandparents that gift.

After their joyous impromptu celebration, Anne and James said good night and gave them one last congratulatory hug before leaving them alone in the sitting room.

“Happy?” Ian asked her quietly, his gaze running over her face.

“What do you think?” she asked, grinning.

“I think you look like a thousand suns in my eyes. I’ve never seen you so radiant.”

Her smiled faded. No matter how many times she experienced his sudden, sober intensity, it never ceased to leave her breathless.

“When I was looking at your painting,” he said thoughtfully, “I realized how nice it would have been to have been married here, in the springtime. Do you think I was selfish, insisting we marry while I was still in the hospital? It wasn’t the most romantic of settings. I only know that suddenly, I couldn’t wait.”

“I know,” she, touching his chest, holding his solemn gaze. “That’s what made it so special . . . your having the faith to take a leap into the future. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. But if it would make you happy, we can renew our vows here anytime. Every spring, if you like,” she said, smiling.

He stood, her hand still in his. “Come with me,” he said.

They walked together out through the screen doors onto the small stone terrace. It was a resplendent June night. The distant forest seemed to clamor with fertile life—tree frogs croaked, grasshoppers chirped, and a breeze rustled the tops of lush trees, making a soft sound like a sigh. She breathed the scent of freshly mown, dew-wet grass and honeysuckle as she followed Ian off the terrace into the yard. They walked without speaking. Ian paused after a moment. There was enough moon and starlight for her to make out a sitting area, one she hadn’t discovered as of yet, hidden behind a thicket of rosebushes. When Ian sat in one of the wooden recliners, she made for the one next to it, but he pulled her toward him.

“Come here,” he said. “You can’t think I’d let you sit over there when I haven’t seen you in days.”

“Of course not,” she said drolly, laughing. She started to sit in his lap, her back to his front, but he stopped her.

“No, face me,” he murmured. “And lift your dress.”

Her laughter faded and her sex clenched at his taut demand. She’d heard the need ringing in his voice and it ignited her own. She lifted the hem of her sundress to her waist, saying nothing when he put one hand on her hip and the other on her bare belly. They both watched him touch her in the moonlight, his masculine hands looking dark next to her pale skin. He moved, caressing and stroking, his hands seeming to spin a sensual spell over her. She felt her sex dampen and the familiar, sweet ache swell inside her.

“I still can’t believe it,” he murmured, caressing her belly.

“I expect it’ll take both of us some time to get accustomed to the idea that a baby is growing in there.”

“I don’t mean the baby. I mean . . . I do. But I didn’t mean just that. I meant I still can’t believe you’re mine. Most of the day I do, but at moments like this it seems so . . . incredible.” She saw the gleam in his eyes when he looked up at her. She palmed his jaw tenderly. Their gazes held as he lowered her panties. His fingers moved deftly in her outer sex. He grunted softly when he found her damp. “Thank you for not giving up on me. Not in the beginning, when I didn’t understand what was happening between us because I had no yardstick to compare it to. Not when I left you. Not even when I came back, and still felt I couldn’t offer you what you deserve.”

She sighed as he stimulated her clit and pushed a finger into her slit. It felt sublime. “You didn’t give up on me, either. I thought you had, but you hadn’t. You knew better than me what was required to make you feel whole.”

“What I need is you,” he said, a steely thread of urgency entering his tone. He removed his hand and she saw the glimmer of his belt buckle as he unfastened his pants. In a matter of seconds, she was sitting in his lap facing him, his cock embedded in her flesh. For several moments, they just sat motionless in the moonlight, touching each other’s face and neck and arms, fused.

“It seems impossible,” Ian said in a strained voice, “that I lived all those months without you. Even when I’m away from you for days, I start to feel like I can’t breathe. I honestly don’t know how I did it before.”