“A week, more or less.” Atlas grabbed Zander’s bottle and tipped it up to his lips.
“Why did you let Mother think you’re in love?” Raph asked. “You told me?—”
“Clara is terrified Mother will hate her if she knows the truth.” Atlas wiped a dribble of wine from the corner of his mouth. “We’re letting Mother think what she wishes to think.”
“What is the truth?” Theo asked.
Hell. How many times would he have to explain this? He took another swig of wine.
“Apparently,” Raph said, “it’s an exchange. The safety of our dear brother’s name for… what, Atlas? What do you stand to gain through this?”
“I don’t need anything in return for doing good.”
Theo grabbed the wine bottle and danced off with it, holding it high over his head and waving farewell. “Off to see what Cordelia thinks of the news.”
Zander rubbed his hands together. “Fee will have interesting thoughts, too.” He disappeared as well.
“Theo’s in a good mood,” Atlas grumbled.
“He’s in love. Does that to you. He’s happier now. Has found a purpose outside of… I don’t know… revenge, perhaps. I see an end to all this, Atlas. A new beginning for us. Even the harvest cooperated this year. Plentiful, profitable. And Matilda…” A faint smile on Raph’s lips as he found his wife dancing with Alfie in the crowd. “She’s increasing.”
“Hell.” Atlas’s heart jumped with joy. “Congratulations, Raph. I’m pleased.” The words could not come close to how he felt. A babe. A new beginning. A chance to do better. He fell inlove with the idea of it. Instantly, it settled into his heart, making the shattered bits whole.
Raph grinned like he’d found the exact thing he’d been looking for all his life and clapped Atlas on the back, then started toward his wife with eager steps. “Speaking of children, I’m going to go steal Matilda from yourson.”
Raph cut a quick path for his wife, but Atlas stood frozen in the shadows. Hisson. Was Alfie scared? He’d entered this new home in a frenzy of blazing excitement, had no sense yet of Briarcliff as a calm place. Did it put him on edge? He seemed at ease, laughing with Matilda, crying out with glee as Raph knelt to stack him on his shoulders and stand.
Clara watched from the other side of the bonfire, the flames mirrored in her eyes. Shoulders relaxed and hands clasped gently before her, she laughed easily, listening to whispers on either side of her—Cordelia and Fiona. Likely demanding details. She seemed… content.
And warmth poured into his heart. He’d done the right thing.
He found himself weaving through the revelers to her side. Her kiss still sang on his lips somehow. Another thing of beauty to fall in love with. When he reached her, he held out a hand.
“Dance with me?”
She smiled, she curtsied, and she stepped into his embrace.
The few couples dancing to a fiddle tune waltzed wildly about the fire, but Atlas spun his betrothed to the edges of the crowd to a tune of his own design, slow and full of starlight.
“How are you?” he asked.
She laughed. “Dizzy.”
“My family is …”
“Unexpected. Beautiful.”
He wanted to lay his forehead against hers, gather her closer. His fingers only tightened on her waist, around her gloveless hand. “You’re cold.”
“I’m not. Thank you for playing along. With your mother. About being in love.” A small chuckle. “Let her think it was love at first sight. No harm in that, right?”
He swallowed hard, the wine bubbling truths onto his tongue. “No harm. Because it’s true.”
She stumbled. He caught her, swept her back steady into their dance. “Apologies,” she mumbled. “I’ve had dance lessons, but I…”
“Do not feel awkward, Clara. I fall in love with everything.”
Her brows sailed together. “What do you mean?”
