Unbidden, unexpected, Gervase felt a visceral tug, a grasping that went to the bone. A recognition. This was the first time since he’d returned to England that he’d stood on the cliffs like this.
And, for the first time, he truly felt he’d come home.
He knew she stood beside him, but he didn’t look at her, simply stood and gazed out at the waves, and let the sensation of home, the place of his ancestors, claim him.
Madeline glanced at him. He stood to her right, between her and the castle; when she looked his way, she saw him with the distant battlements and towers as a backdrop.
An appropriate setting.
She would have wondered at his absorption, but she knew what had caught him, could sympathize. She came to the cliffs often herself, to the places like this where cliff, wind, sea and sky met, and melded.
It was in the blood, his as much as hers. She’d forgotten that, for not every soul was attuned to the magic, to the wild song the elements wrought.
She followed his gaze, and was content, in that moment, to simply stand and know. And, unexpectedly, share the knowing.
Eventually he stirred, and faced her. His eyes searched hers, and she realized he, too, had sensed the mutual connection, but didn’t know how to speak of it.
“It’s powerful.” She gestured all-encompassingly. “The essence of nature’s wildness.”
His lips quirked; he glanced out again. “Yes. That it is.”
And it lived in each of them.
Feeling the tug of the breeze, she raised her hands to her hair, verifying that it was a tangled mess. She gave a disgusted sound that had his head turning her way. “We’d better get back.”
He grinned, but swung to follow as she retreated toward the path.
“I tell you there has to be something. It stands to reason.”
Both she and Gervase halted and turned back to the cliff edge. The breeze rushed off the sea and up the cliff face, carrying voices—familiar voices—in its current.
“We’ll have to search further afield.”
“Lots of caves, after all.”
The last comment came in a light, piping voice.
Frowning, Madeline started back.
Gervase’s hand closed over her arm, staying her.
When she looked at him, he shook his head. “You don’t want to startle them.”
She looked back at the cliff edge, and bit her lip. He’d spoken softly; when he tugged, she let him draw her further back so her brothers, climbing the narrow, dangerous cliff path, wouldn’t see them until they’d stepped safely onto the clifftop.
First one bright head, then a second, and eventually a third—Harry, bringing up the rear—appeared. Madeline breathed a little sigh of relief; Gervase’s restraining hand fell away and she walked forward.
“Oh!” Edmond was the first to see her. Guilt—she was expert at detecting it—flashed across his face, but then he saw Gervase. Edmond brightened. “Hello.” He bobbed politely.
The greeting was echoed by Ben, who had all but jumped when he’d seen her. Harry, rather more controlled, nodded and said, “Good morning.”
Gervase acknowledged the three with an easy smile. “Hunting for something?” he asked, before she could demand.
The younger boys looked to Harry.
&nb
sp; “Ah…birds’ nests,” he offered.