Page 74 of Miss Davis and the Architect

She stopped as abruptly as she had begun, catching her breath in shallow heaves, and Barclay was perfectly captivated. Why had he ever thought she was immature? Jane was loyal, intelligent, and exuberant about life. She cared about other people and did her best to take care of them. What he had seen as immaturity was truly a woman who embraced life with her whole heart, and she could teach him a thing or two about the pursuit of happiness.

Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “That was magnificently said. Much better than my paltry attempt to express myself. But then, you are the poetess, and I am a humble artisan.”

Jane chuckled. “That was reasonably well said.”

Barclay laughed in return, a feeling of lightness stealing over him as he released the past and accepted the future. Turning toward her, he tugged lightly on the hand he clasped to pull her into his arms. Staring down into her eyes, he gently cupped her head and brought his mouth down to hers.

* * *

In that moment, a tender longing awakened, and Jane sighed with elation. Barclay's lips moved gently over hers, soft and sure, his touch both familiar and thrilling. She had only recently experienced such closeness when he had kissed her in the library, and now that sweet memory blossomed anew. Jane had some understanding of the more intimate nature of affection—she had once witnessed Emma and Perry sharing a heartfelt embrace, which she had tactfully interrupted with an exaggerated snore, much to their embarrassment.

With the wrong man, she supposed such intimacy might seem unthinkable. But with Barclay … with him, it felt perfectly right. Her heart fluttered with each brush of his lips, every gentle caress that spoke of tenderness and promise. She was captivated by everything about him—his scent of tea and leather with just a hint of spice, the strength of his arms around her, and the tickle of his beard against her cheek.

With Barclay, she could imagine staying in his arms forever.

He was everything she had imagined in a partner and so much more. His presence was strong and steady, his manner both protective and kind. Her fingers found their way to his hair, combing through the too-long strands that had captivated her from the moment they met. His skin was warm beneath her touch, and she marveled at the contrast of roughness and softness—the ruggedness of his hands and the fine weave of his waistcoat.

When he pulled back, she could not help the soft sound of protest that escaped her lips. But her disappointment was short-lived as he trailed gentle kisses along her jaw, his breath warm against her skin. When his lips brushed her ear, she shivered, feeling warmth spread from her head to her toes. The sensation was new and wonderful, sending a delightful thrill racing through her entire being. She sighed in contentment, wishing that moment could last forever.

But Barclay pulled away, his breathing uneven, and she saw the flush of color high on his cheeks. He looked almost startled by his own emotions, and Jane’s heart swelled with affection at his vulnerability. She wanted nothing more than to pull him back into her arms, but she saw he was struggling to speak, so she waited patiently, hands clasped before her as she tried to contain her joy.

He took a steadying breath, his expression earnest. “I should be clear about my intentions.”

Jane raised an eyebrow in playful amusement but remained silent.

“Miss Jane Davis,” he began, his voice gentle but sure, “will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Her face lit up with pure joy, her heart soaring. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “As soon as it can be arranged. I cannot wait to be your wife.”

His smile was brilliant, his eyes sparkling with happiness. Barclay was not a nobleman, but he was a man of integrity and strength, a man who worked with his hands and built beautiful things. She admired that about him—his ability to craft and create, his dedication to his family. She looked forward to exploring his world by his side, seeing it through his eyes.

His expression grew serious, though his smile remained. “And just to be clear, you are agreeing to be Tatiana’s mother as well? To love her as your own?”

Tears sprang to Jane’s eyes, and she laughed with joy, nodding fervently. “I would be honored to be her mother. If she wants me, I want nothing more.”

Barclay’s eyes grew misty, and he shook his head in disbelief. “Tatiana wants that very much. She has championed you every moment we are together. It seems she understood the bond between the three of us far better than I did.”

Jane laughed softly. “She is very bright,” she agreed. “Will we be traveling with you?”

“If that is what you want, I would love to have you accompany me. I miss taking Tatiana to see the world, and I cannot imagine a better travel companion than you.”

Jane clasped her hands together, hardly able to contain her happiness. Her heart felt light and buoyant, and the future stretched out before her, filled with promise and love. “And when shall we marry?”

Barclay’s smile grew tender. “As soon as we can gather our families. I want you by my side, as my wife, without delay.” His expression faltered slightly. “Which does mean I must inform the earl that I have fallen hopelessly in love with the young lady in his care who has not yet reached her majority.”

Jane beamed, her heart swelling with affection. “Somehow, I do not think he will mind.”

Barclay reached for her hands, entwining his fingers with hers. “I hope you are right, my love. Because I cannot wait another day to call you mine.”

* * *

Taking some time to enjoy the grotto with Jane while dreading the forthcoming meeting with Richard, it was all he could do to hold on to the magic of the moment as long as he could. While they were here, they were enwrapped in the magic of the caves with their silent witnesses carved from marble and stone. Once they left … the troubles of the world would return.

So they sat together, holding hands and raiding the hamper that Tatiana had arranged. Neither of them had eaten much in their quest to find his daughter, and the cheeses and fruits were welcome refreshments. He dared not wonder how Tatiana had obtained the hamper, hoping she had not pilfered from the kitchen without permission. An irate cook might wait for him, adding to his issues when he returned to the real world outside the woods.

Eventually, they both knew they could not delay any longer, so Jane tucked the handle of the hamper over her arm while he carried the blanket, and they headed back to the manor. Once they reached the edge of the woods, Barclay realized they could not continue together. As relations, they might relax some proprieties, but once a betrothal was announced, their being observed alone together would be cast in a different light.

Taking the hamper from Jane, he bade her return ahead of him so he might dally in the woods for a while to give her an opportunity to make her way inside alone.