Page 22 of B is for Beast of Dean

Heath

The morning light filtered through the small window of our cottage, casting gentle shadows across the stone floor. Two weeks had passed since Alice and I arrived in Kinloch, and I still found myself marveling at the word that had come to define our new life:our.

Our cottage. Our morning routine. Our shared meals and quiet conversations. Our bed.

I stood at the window, watching Alice make her way up the path from the village, a basket of supplies balanced on her arm. She moved with the confident stride of someone who belonged, who had found herplace in the world. The sight of her never failed to make my chest tighten with a mixture of love and disbelief that she was truly here, truly mine.

The village had accepted us with the reserved politeness of Highland folk who valued privacy above curiosity. Alice's story, that she was a widow who had remarried a reclusive man scarred by the war, had been received with sympathetic nods and no further questions. My own careful appearances in the village, always after dark and heavily cloaked, had been taken as the eccentricity of a man damaged by battle.

It was a good life we were building. Simple, quiet, but rich with the contentment I had never thought possible.

Alice pushed through the cottage door, bringing with her the scent of Highland air and the warmth of her smile.

"Mrs. MacLeod sends her regards," she said, setting the basket on our small table. "And some of her famous shortbread. She's taken quite a liking to you, despite never having properly met you."

"What did you tell her this time?" I asked, moving to help her unpack the supplies.

"That my mysterious husband is slowly recovering from his war wounds but still finds daylight difficult." Alice's eyes danced with mischief. "Shethinks you're terribly romantic. A tragic hero from her penny novels."

I laughed, a sound that came so easily now that I sometimes forgot there had been years when laughter was a stranger to me. "If only she knew the truth."

"The truth is that you're the kindest man I've ever known," Alice said, standing on her toes to brush a kiss against my jaw. "The rest is just details."

Her casual affection, the way she touched me without hesitation or reservation, still amazed me. She had adapted to my differences with a grace that humbled me. Learning the shape of my mouth, the careful positioning needed for our kisses. There was no awkwardness between us now, no moment of hesitation when she reached for me or I for her.

"Any interesting news from the village?" I asked, wrapping my arms around her waist.

"Mrs. MacLeod's daughter is expecting again," Alice said. "And the blacksmith finally proposed to the baker's niece." She paused, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "She also wanted to know when we might be expecting little ones."

My eyes widened. "What did you tell her?"

"That we're still newlyweds and these things take time," Alice said with a laugh. "But it did make me think..."

She trailed off, suddenly shy, and I felt my heart begin to race. "Think about what?"

"About whether it's even possible," she said quietly. "Children, I mean. Between us."

The question had occurred to me as well, though I had never dared to voice it. The differences between us were significant. But the idea of Alice carrying my child, of expanding our small family, filled me with a longing so intense it was almost painful.

"I don't know," I admitted. "There's no precedent that I'm aware of. But if you want to try..."

Alice's blush deepened, but her eyes held mine steadily. "I do want to try. I want everything with you, Heath. A real marriage, a family if we're blessed with one, a future together."

I pulled her closer, marveling at the courage of this woman who had chosen to bind her life to mine. "Then we'll try," I said against her hair. "For everything."

The afternoon passed peacefully, with Alice tending to household tasks while I worked on repairs to the cottage roof. The domesticity of it all still felt like a miracle. Having someone to share the small details of daily life made even mundane tasks feel meaningful.

As evening approached, I began preparing our dinner while Alice sat by the fire, mending a tear in oneof my shirts. The scene was so perfectly ordinary, so wonderfully normal, that I found myself storing every detail in my memory. These moments of peace were precious, and I never wanted to take them for granted.

"Heath," Alice said suddenly, looking up from her sewing. "Do you ever regret it? Leaving the forest?"

I considered the question seriously. The forest had been my home for so long that leaving it had felt like severing a limb. There were things I missed.

But then I looked at Alice, her face golden in the firelight, her dark hair falling loose around her shoulders, and knew that home had never been a place at all.

"Never," I said firmly. "The forest was where I survived. With you is where I live."

Alice's smile was radiant. "Good," she said. "Because I plan to keep you for a very long time."