Page 53 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“Will every night we share be like this?” she asked, closing her eyes and resting her head on his chest.
“If you wish it,” he replied, stroking her hair.
“I do wish it,” she whispered, and with that she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You look ever so beautiful,” Ian said, and Catherine turned to him with a smile.
She had been combing her hair, the landlord having brought warm water for them to wash in that morning, and the promise of a fine breakfast laid out below. It was late in the morning, but neither Catherine nor Ian were in a rush to be ready, the memory of their wedding night still fresh in their memory.
“Will you tell me that every day?” she asked, and he nodded.
“Ten times a day,” he replied, coming over to put his arms around her, leaning round to kiss her.
She smiled at him and finished combing her hair. It had surprised Catherine how easily she had managed without a maid, or the many trappings of her privileged life in London. She pictured the two of them, on a grand tour of Europe, and whilst their places of residence might be grander, that same sense of adventure would surely prevail.
“Are you hungry?” she said, and he nodded.
“I was waiting for you to finish combing your hair. Come along, the smell of the sausages is making my mouth water,” he said, offering her his hand.
They made their way downstairs to the taproom, which at this early hour was laid out for breakfast. There were tables covered over in white cloths, each set with plates and cutlery, and several other guests were already eating, the landlord having just emerged from the kitchen with a pan of sizzling sausages and bacon.
“Will ye sit and eat?” he said, pointing to a table by the window, which Catherine and Ian now sat down at.
There were eggs and fresh bread, too, a sumptuous breakfast, accompanied by hot coffee and tea.
“I had never thought to find such civilization this far north,” Ian said, tucking into his plate of breakfast with hearty gusto.
“We built up quite an appetite last night,” Catherine replied, smiling at him across the table.
The other guests were an assortment of couples and single travelers, one of whom was obscured by a periodical in the corner. He did not lower it for the entire meal, and Catherine kept glancing at him, wondering why he did not eat or drink.
“Are you finished?” Ian asked, wiping a piece of bread around his plate.
“Do we leave for London at once?” she asked, and he nodded.
“There is nothing left for us here to do. It will take us the same time to return as it did to get here. The sooner we leave, the sooner we shall reveal the truth,” Ian said.
Catherine felt loathe to leave Gretna Green. She liked its charm and romance, and the thought of other couples – just like them – arriving for the pure reason of marriage, an expression of love. She would gladly have remained a while, but Ian was right, it was time to return and make the truth known.
“Then if you have finished, we will leave,” she said, rising to her feet.
“Not so fast,” a voice from across the room came.
Catherine let out a cry, the man behind the periodical lowering it to reveal himself as none other than her brother, Rickard. The other guests looked up in bemusement, and Ian sprang to his feet, putting his arm out protectively, as Catherine shrank back.
“You scoundrel, following us here. We saw you at Lancaster. I knew you would come here,” Ian said, as Rickard rose from his place.
There was anger in his eyes, the look of one who has been made a fool of and desires revenge.
“I am the scoundrel? Are you not the rogue who has abducted my sister and forced her into marriage?” he exclaimed, pointing angrily at Ian, who drew himself up to his full height and raised his fists.
“How dare you make such an accusation,” he cried.
“Abducted?” Catherine exclaimed, “what nonsense. It is I who had to escape my captors in London – you and my father. Did you really think I would marry the Earl of Westwood? You are more the fool than I ever thought, Rickard. I had no intention of doing what you or our father intended. I love Ian and you are too late. We are already married,” she said, fixing her brother with a triumphant stare.
For a moment, Rickard looked shocked. He must have arrived that very morning, Catherine assumed, intent on preventing the wedding before it occurred. How fortunate the landlord had warned them to marry in haste the following evening before sunset.
