Lysander Worthington stood in front of a doorway made of blossoms. Even in his somewhat well-traveled coat and riding breeches, he looked like a lord welcoming guests to his manor — his rustic stone and rose-bedecked shearing shed manor.

It should've been ludicrous. It was not.

Lysander's somber face was alight with expectation and his intense gaze was fixed only upon her. As his eyes roamed over her, his jaw dropped and his lips parted slightly. Gemma felt his indrawn breath as if it was her own.

I feel beautiful in this dress.

They each stepped forward, unable to deny the magnetic pull between them.

CHAPTER 21

Chapter 21

LYSANDER STARED AT THE elegant woman before him.

It's a sheep-shearing shed, not a ballroom. Dolt. This woman deserves a ballroom.

As they neared each other, Lysander reached out. He wasn't entirely conscious of the movement. All he knew was that if he did not touch her right now, this moment, he might as well not bother breathing anymore.

His bare fingers enveloped her cool slender hands, which were encased past the elbow in the finest of silk gloves. He didn't question the luxury of the gloves, or the lavishness of her gown. It seemed only right that she be clad in riches.

Beautiful Gemma, lovely, strong, smart, valiant and giving.

She held his hands. She smiled at him. He didn't deserve such regard but it warmed the old, cold places within him as nothing else ever had.

Then a ferocious red-haired projectile struck him from one side. The impact staggered him and pulled him away from Gemma. His heart raced with the shock of it but he kept his reason. Red hair. Skinny arms wrapped tight around him.

"Attie?" Lysander blinked down at his little sister in astonishment. "Where did you —?" His gaze rose to take in the carriages and the three men standing beside them.

Button? Why was he here? Cabot? Well, where Button went of course, but —

"Poll?"

Oh God. Oh no. Iris. They'd come for him because Iris was gone.

Pain swelled, starting at the center of him, tearing through his heart and burning red-hot and ice-cold through his entire body. He'd stayed too long. He had abandoned his family and now he would never see his mad, sweet loving mother again.

He stared his brother. He was barely aware that Gemma had gripped his hand tightly. He felt nothing but the loss exploding from within him, threatening to shatter him from the inside out.

"When did it happen?" Gemma asked Poll quietly

Poll blinked. "What?" Then, realization clearly dawned. "No, Zander. Iris is alive. Better yet, she is growing stronger every day." Poll grinned. "She sent us!"

The pain bled out of Lysander abruptly, sinking away into the purifying Yorkshire earth. The crushing sense of loss disappeared, but it left an awareness behind that Lysander was not yet ready to examine too closely.

"And we knew where you were, of course, from the letter."