Taming of the Beast (Scandalous Affairs #2) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,115

has it, a woman met and married a man belonging to a different tribe. The young woman’s mother was bereft, and each night she would go to the base of a mountain and speak with her daughter’s spirit.” Pausing, the marquess looked to the pot of barren branches. “One night, her daughter ceased to speak to her, and she just knew she was needed. She knew something was wrong. So she raced to her daughter’s side, only to find she was dying, and as she took her grandson, warriors set after her.”

Despite himself, despite the sense of urgency that had sent him here and his earlier impatience at the off-topic nature of this story, Tynan found himself riveted. “What happened?”

“She struggled along the way. It was an arduous journey. She was near death when a God granted her pleas for help and transformed her.”

Tynan made to speak, but Lord Lothian held a finger up and directed Tynan’s attention to the sticks.

Ever so slowly, the white bloom fluttered, and Tynan stared on as it began to unfurl, expanding extravagant white petals as it did. A slightly dusty scent permeated the air, a soft, spicy undertone offsetting that smell.

“It usually takes most plants anywhere from five to sixteen weeks to flower, and then the flowering stage lasts from eight to twelve weeks.” Lord Lothian wiped his kerchief across his brow. “But the night-blooming cereus,” Lord Lothian said in soft, reverent tones, “takes two years to bloom, Tynan. Two years before it opens up and reveals its full beauty.”

Tynan kept his focus on that flower, studying the slow transformation unfolding before him. The marquess’ words, and more, their meaning, settled in his mind.

“I’m not that person,” he said gravely, needing to disabuse the marquess of those sentiments. He pulled his stare from the marquess’ prized flower and looked to the benevolent lord who’d saved him. “There is no miraculous transformation that has befallen me.” He wasn’t capable of that kind of growth or change. He was…

I believe you are good. You just don’t see it…

Faye’s voice floated forward. Words he’d scoffed at.

“Ah, but it isn’t a miraculous one, my boy,” the marquess said gently. Wrapping an arm about Tynan’s shoulders, he lightly squeezed. “It’s just a transformation. Sometimes, it takes some of us longer. You eventually—”

“Bloomed?” he supplied wryly.

“Ah,” Lord Lothian said with a waggle of his bushy white brows. “But a late bloom is better than withering upon the vine.”

Withering upon the vine. In a way, that was precisely what Tynan had been doing, until Faye had come along. Faye, who’d seen more than the world had. Hell, she’d seen more than Tynan himself had.

“The lady, I take it?” Lord Lothian murmured, pulling Tynan back. “Miss Poplar is the reason for your transformation.”

“Aye, the lady… I don’t deserve her,” Tynan said, watching the white flower as it continued to unfurl. “She is entirely too good for me and—”

“And you never gave yourself enough credit, my boy. She just saw what I did and everything you were unable to see in yourself.”

That might be true. But that did not mean, however, that she’d accept him. Not when Tynan had rejected her offer that morn and left without even fighting for her. And certainly, if she was able and willing to take back his groveling self, there was still her brother who would reject Tynan outright. Nay, not reject. He’d call him out. And then Tynan would come between Faye and her family.

“You do seem a good deal less overjoyed about having fallen in love,” the marquess remarked.

“You’re a nobleman,” Tynan said. “Would you have welcomed a man who’d been imprisoned and secured powerful enemies along the way as a match for your daughter?”

“Come, you know I’ve always seen potential and good outside my rank.”

Yes, that much was true.

“That is why I ensured that your name was cleared. Your release from Newgate is official.”

With that, as if he’d not just casually mentioned that Tynan was a free man—truly free—and would no longer be forced to live in the shadows, the marquess headed over to a sphere-shaped boxwood, and fetching a pair of shears from his jacket, he proceeded to prune the potted shrub.

Or, mayhap it was just that he’d misheard the older man. His heart knocked hard around his rib cage. He rushed over to the table where Lord Lothian now worked. “What did you say?”

“You’re free, Tynan, and let us hope you continue on the path of making the good decisions I always