left the silent village, shrouded in its blanket of darkness, the postilion rider had upped the pace into a gallop, not at all heedful of the frosty track as the carriage bounced over the hardened muddy ruts. “We must make haste,” he’d told the drivers three dozen times before he’d gone to fetch Ellen. It seemed they’d heard his words.
“We are going to be mightily bruised by the time we reach Gretna,” Paul said.
There was that wonderful laugh again which stirred something incredibly masculine in his soul – an instinct to gather her up and protect her. He lifted his arm. She slotted beneath it, pressing close to his side. And there was that ache in his chest and his groin again. Ellen. He could see her face clearly in the lamplight which glowed within the carriage. Beautiful. Perfect. Flawless.
His arm around her, and her warmth clutched against him, he began explaining. “It should take us about three days, I think; maybe less if we are lucky with the roads and the weather. Then after Gretna we shall travel to Portsmouth. From there we will sail with my regiment. I’ll purchase the things you’ll need as a soldier’s wife in Portsmouth. You shan’t be able to carry much, there is a need to travel light, but we can spare you more than a single bag of clothing.”
He couldn’t see her smile, but it was in the press of her hand against his greatcoat over his chest and the stir of her cheek against his shoulder.
He would love this woman for the rest of his life. He knew it. “Come now. Let us take off our outdoor things and use the blankets, then you may sleep a little, if the road is not too rutted.” He moved, letting her rise, and she set her feet on the hot bricks the inn had put on the floor and took off her bonnet, cloak and gloves. He took off his gloves too and gripped her hand as she moved back beside him spreading the blanket over them.
It was even more intimate than before, holding her naked hand, skin against skin – their first physical contact without the boundary of clothing. “Ellen, you need not fear me. I shall not press you. We will be travelling day and night. I shall not ask you to do anything with me until we are man and wife. If you change your mind…” He would not want to let her go, but if she wished to return to her father then he would–
“I will not change my mind. I wish to marry you.” The answer rang with vehemence as she sat up and glanced at him, her pale blue eyes bright and determined. Yes, she had a core of iron. She would survive. “I love you.”
Those words… He smiled. They’d only shared them for the first time a fortnight ago. It had been the first time he’d spoken them to any woman, and the first time he’d heard a woman say them to him. But the feeling was true, it was in his blood and bones. “I love you, also, Ellen. And I shall make you happy and keep you safe. I swear it.”
~
When Ellen woke, her head rested in Paul’s lap, and the weight of his hand lay on her shoulder. She sat up, blushing. “Sorry.”
He was awake. He’d been looking out the window but now he looked at her and smiled – that gentle, warm smile she’d become used to in the summer. “It is of no matter, Ellen. You were tired.”
She smiled too. “Yes. Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
“Where are we?”
“Close to High Wycombe.”
It had been foolish to ask. She had no idea where High Wycombe was, or how far that meant they’d travelled.
His smile opened and his eyes glowed. “We are the other side of London, eight or nine hours away from your father’s estate.” It was as though he’d read her mind, or perhaps her expression.
Her stomach growled, and she pressed her hand over it, blushing again.
A humorous sound came from his throat. “Are you hungry?”
Yes. She was starved. She nodded, her smile quivering. She’d felt a closeness between her and Paul, which had begun in the summer and gathered through their letters, but now awkwardness hung between them because she knew very little of him in the flesh, only his written words.
“We will stop at the next inn. But we cannot stop for long. We need to make sure we keep ahead if your father follows.”
A knot tied in her stomach as Paul leaned forward to open a slim hatch and shout up to the man on the box. “We wish to stop at the next coaching inn!”
If her father followed she would be in trouble. He’d never forgive her for this. But she was not sure he would follow; there were her sisters. He’d never shown any sign he cared for her. Perhaps he’d decide to wait until Penny came of age, and let Penny take her place.
Guilt rushed in. What if Penny had to endure the fate Ellen had run from? It would be Ellen’s fault. But she could not regret this – because she was not running from – she was running to. She would never choose to give Paul up.
Paul sat back in the seat, and his fingers lifted and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. It had fallen from the pins.
She smiled, sitting back, and began trying to re-pin it without a mirror.
His fingers touched beneath her chin. “You need not pin it, you look beautiful if a little tussled by a bumpy carriage ride.” She laughed, but she still re-pinned it, and touched it to feel if it was in place.
The carriage jolted over a deep rut as it turned off the road, sending her off balance and toppling her backward. In a moment he’d caught her upper arm in a firm grip holding her steady. She smiled, warmth and emotion running through her blood. He’d take care of her now. Moisture clouded her vision.
“Are you well? Happy?”
She smiled, swallowing back the emotion in her throat. “Yes.” She leaned forward and hugged him, aware her breasts brushed against his chest through their layers of clothing. This was only the second time she’d been held by him, by any man. He kissed her temple a moment before she pulled away and her heartbeat thumped.
The carriage slowed, and through the window Ellen saw a row of thatched cottages, then they were turning into a courtyard.
“Come, let us get you some refreshment.” Before the carriage had even stopped, Paul opened the door, and when it did he knocked down the step and lifted a hand to help her out.
When they returned to the carriage less than half an hour later, refreshed and more awake, Ellen let Paul hand her in as he’d handed her out. She did not feel guilty about making him stop because the drivers had changed the horses while they’d eaten.
The carriage lurched as they pulled off into a canter.
The ground was still frozen which meant the lanes were passable, but the frozen ruts cast by previous carriages in the mud strewn tracks made the journey bumpy.
The day was freezing, but new hot bricks had been placed inside at the inn, and Paul drew the blankets around them.
“Come here, let me hold you, then you will not be so thrown about by the rough track.”
She smiled, sliding to sit against him. Her thigh pressed against his and his arm lifted so she might slot beneath it. He was warm and solid. Dependable.
She
