Page 17 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
‘As close as it is possible to be when I lead a very different life to them. They will not miss me, and I will not miss them.’ His fingers lifted her chin, and he looked into her eyes. ‘You will be my family now, and I will be yours. We will be each other’s comfort and companion. That is what I wish for us.’
His words sent shivers running across her skin. ‘That is all I want too – to make you happy and to be happy with you.’
‘As I wish more than anything to make you happy, so we have hope, Ellen.’ His head lowered and he kissed her.
The ache in her stomach swept out to her limbs – yet along with the pleasure of his warmth and gentleness came concern; his gentle hands could kill a man…
When they pulled into an inn a little while later, having driven into the town of Penrith, Paul moved immediately, letting her go so she could sit up. He climbed out of the carriage in a moment, lowered the step and then lifted his hand to help her.
She took it and smiled as he smiled at her. ‘Let us go in search of refreshment.’
The cobbles of the courtyard were slippery from the snow, so they walked tentatively. He kept a hold of her hand. It was protective – the way he had been with her ever since they’d been together.
She had never seen her father be even slightly attentive to her mother. She had only seen him give orders and her mother obey and defer to his wishes. This side of Paul, the man she had first met in the summer, was precious gold in her eyes. If only there was not also the part of him that frightened her a little – the image of the highwayman lying dead in his blood lingered in her mind.
Paul ordered cured ham, cheese and freshly baked bread to break their fast, and then asked how many miles they were away from the Scottish border and how long it would take them to get there. The innkeeper implied they could make it by nightfall, if the snow neither melted nor started falling again.
By nightfall. In hours they might be wed.
They ate hurriedly, not wishing to delay, then Paul suggested they walk away from the inn, a little way up the road, so he could stretch his legs before having to endure the cramped carriage again.
She offered his arm and she held it, but his long-legged stride made it difficult for her to keep up, especially as the layer of snow caught on the hem of her skirt, making her velvet habit heavier as it soaked up the moisture. But she liked the gentle give of the crisp snow beneath her half boots, and she began sliding her feet through it to keep up.
She slipped, and her fingers tightened about the firm muscle of his forearm.
The solidity, his security, caught at her heart.
But his strength enabled him to kill men.
Her gaze turned to the picturesque village green on the far side of the road. Its fresh white coat looked pure and beautiful.
‘Shall we walk through it?’ Paul asked. ‘I think it is too late now to make any difference if anyone were to remember us.’
Ellen nodded, her fingers clinging to his arm more firmly, denying her thoughts of the warrior within him.
‘Come then.’ He led her over.
On the village green, his arm dropped from her grip as he bent, then he quickly grasped a handful of snow and tossed it at her, a wide smile cutting his face and laughter glimmering in his eyes.
Ellen squealed, turning away as it hit the side of her bonnet. ‘Oh, you brigand!’ She laughed.
He laughed too, stooping to gather another handful of snow.
Ellen bent and filled her hands, crushing the snow in her fingers to make it denser, then threw the snowball at him.
He threw his. It hit her breast. The snow stuck to her cloak.
The cold, the exercise and the laughter tumbled through her senses in an exhilarating rush.
He still laughed as he brushed snow from his shoulder and she ran a few steps away then turned and threw another handful at him. It nearly missed him, only brushing his ear as he ducked. She bent and filled two hands, as a missile of cold snow hit her back.
She laughed again, smiling so widely it made her cheeks begin to ache, and lifted both her hands, and the pile of snow she held. Still laughing, she ran at him. He did not try to avoid her ambush as she neared and thrust the snow at his face, he only shut his eyes and his lips.
She laughed even more as he brushed the snow away, and some clung to his eyelashes and brows. A look of retribution slipped across his face, although his blue eyes glinted with laughter and a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth.
His smile parting his lips, he gripped her shoulders and tumbled her backwards so she fell onto the snow. He fell with her, on top of her, though he did not crush her.
All the air left her lungs as her gaze caught his. Laughter no longer lingered in his eyes, but something else shone in them, something deep, warm and heartfelt. Her laughter died too, a moment before his lips pressed to hers. It was unlike any kiss they had shared in the carriage. They lay on a green before the inn, with several cottages about them. He just pressed his lips over hers for a moment. But the pressure of his body, the knowledge that last night he had killed a man and knowing that in a few hours they would be married, fought a battle to dominate her emotions. Her heartbeat drummed.
