“Oh, I’ve no need to ask,” she acknowledged dutifully, “as I am quite certain it is the truth.”
“And not to boast, for that would be a sin, but in all truth I do make an exceptional papa.”
“Indeed. Save for my own father, I have never met a man more loving and patient. So, you see, you stand in excellent company.”
Brogan’s nod was one of immense satisfaction. “Did I hear you mention something about more sons and daughters? Are you saying, Lorena, you accept my proposal of marriage?”
Lorena felt a warm blush of happiness rise to her cheeks. “Yes, I will marry you, Captain Brogan Talvis. Gladly.”
His grin widened to a full-fledged smile, but as his gaze continued to bore deep into hers, his expression sobered. He lowered his face to hers, and Lorena closed her eyes, feeling the touch of his breath and then his lips as he pressed them upon hers and kissed her.
When at length he released her, Lorena feared her bones had turned to dust. She stood shakily, her senses clouded by love.
Brogan sighed. “How easily you make me forget everything except that which is most important.”
“Pray tell, what is most important to you, sir?”
Lorena placed her hand in Brogan’s offered palm, and he clasped it tightly. He raised her fingers to his lips, all the while holding her in the warmth of his gaze.
“God and family. I promise to let nothing come between us. I love you, Lorena. More than any obstacle, any test of life. I love you with my very soul.”
Then Brogan kissed her again, and Lorena knew in her heart he was letting her know he would forever remain faithful to that promise.
Epilogue
Duxboro, Massachusetts, 1817
Brogan Talvis could not care less that he was slowly amassing a fortune from his partnership interest in the Huntley-Talvis merchant fleet. There were plans to construct more vessels. Warehouses and a counting house had been built at the wharf, but he gave them not a thought.
Neither did he care that he lived in an enormous manor house of Federal architecture, built to the east of his father-in-law’s estate, and set on five acres of Duxboro’s finest tree-studded soil. A brick wall overgrown with shrubbery fronted the property and contained its own special door, opening to a multilayered garden spanning two of those charmed acres. A brick path wove through the foliage and blooms and led to a lavish rose garden planted for the enjoyment of his wife.
When he heard an infant’s wail, he bounded up the manor’s grand staircase to the second floor with no thought to the luxury he lived in, caring only for the health of his young wife and what wonder he would find upon reaching the source of that squalling.
He took his steps two at a time. His son and father-in-law followed behind as Brogan dashed down the hallway to the closed double doors of the master bedroom. He would have thrown them open himself, but the latch turned and out stepped the midwife. Brogan saw only the blood on her apron. He could still hear a baby’s cry from inside.
“You may go in now, Captain, and meet your new son,” she said.
Drew plowed into the back of Brogan’s legs, where he came to an abrupt halt. “I have a brother?”
“Did I hear a son?” Nathaniel Huntley called as he joined them.
Brogan swept past the midwife and strode to the foot of his bed, taking in the scene.
The room was dimly lit and toasty warm. The newborn, thoroughly bundled and hidden from view in Mrs. Culliford’s arms, had quieted. In the bed, Lorena lay quiet and still amid a mound of quilts and blankets, and for a moment Brogan panicked.
Please, Lord. Her face looked so very pale, her eyelids heavily closed. If anything were to happen to her, if she had been injured . . .
They had been married before family, friends, and crew on the main deck of the Yankee Heart, which was anchored in Duxboro Bay and had been festooned for the ceremony. Afterward, a wedding breakfast had been served at his father-in-law’s house, but before that, more decorations and refreshments awaited in the great cabin, including a tall white wedding cake, studded with gilded almonds and adorned with flowers and laurel.
It had transpired on a Tuesday morning, nearly two years ago. The most extraordinary day of his life. Until today.
“Lorena?” he rasped.
Her eyes sprang open, arresting him in their intensity and flooding him with relief, until the infant’s gurgle drew her attention away. He followed the stare of her beautiful brown eyes to Mrs. Culliford, who stood by the fire cooing to the curious thing in her arms.
She smiled and his breath caught in his throat. His vision blurred.
“Would you like to see your son?”
Tears pricked at his eyes. Brogan walked over to her side of the bed, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I need to be assured that you are well, my love.”