Page 18 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
He rolled away, knelt, then stood. He offered her his hand. She accepted it and he pulled her onto her feet, then dusted the snowflakes from her cloak.
It had been good to laugh. She had needed laughter, and perhaps he had known. Perhaps he had needed laughter too. Her beautiful, elemental, warrior was not invincible. He did feel pain over the loss of life, which meant he must be weighed down by memories. She would protect him too, love him and comfort him, and she would make him happy.
‘We had better be on our way,’ he prompted, his voice implying the threat which still hung over them, of being caught by her father. ‘Things will be good between us, Ellen. I promise. I know last night was abhorrent to you. Death is a terrible thing, no matter that a man is your enemy and trying to kill you. I hope you will not have to face it often, and I will do everything I can to protect you. I love you.’
‘I know. I love you too.’
She could face living on the edge of a battlefield, as long as he endured fighting on one, and when he came back she would help him fight the ghosts.
‘You will withstand, Ellen, and we will be happy. I swear it.’
* * *
It had turned to dusk as the carriage dashed the last few miles towards Gretna. Paul mentally willed the horses to gallop faster. The carriage rolled far too slowly. There had been no more snow,thank God, and no thaw to make the roads turn to a quagmire of muddy slush, but even so the weather slowed their pace. The tracks they travelled over were hard yet slippery, so they could not race at full tilt.
Hurry. Hurry. He still had no idea if her father followed. But they had lost time last night and it would be the worst thing to be caught just before Gretna.
Come on. Faster.
He wanted to jump out and pull the horses.Come on!
Ellen sat beside him, and his hand held hers, probably too tightly. He relaxed his grip. He knew she was anxious too. They both sat forward on the seat, looking from opposite windows, listening for the noise of a carriage or riders in pursuit.
Hurry up. Come on.
Ellen glanced at him. He smiled, trying to reassure her, though he doubted he succeeded, because he was not sure they would make the Scottish border.
Once they were across, they just needed to find another person to witness them pledging themselves to each other, and in Scotland that meant they were married. Where they made their vow and before whom did not matter, it was a legal bond. Anyone could bear witness to a wedding under Scottish law. As long as the bride was older than five and ten. So if he and Ellen stood before a Scotsman and said they wished to marry, then the deed was done. They had no need for parental consent or a priest.
They had left Carlisle behind hours ago. They could not be far from Gretna, which was the first village in Scotland, the place where all runaways searched for a witness.
Come on.
Night had begun to creep across the sky, and he was not sure they would find a witness if they crossed after dark. Would anyone rise from their bed at night to perform the favour, and confirm the ceremony? For enough money, maybe; but he would be spending the precious funds he needed to clothe Ellen. Heaven knew he had spent enough years penniless during the Peninsular War. He had only received his accrued arrears of wages a few weeks back, along with a small inheritance from a deceased aunt. Still, he was not rich.
The sky turned darker and became a bleak half-light. He saw the slightly darker line of the sea against the sky on the horizon. As the carriage rolled on he saw the inlet of a river mouth; the estuary which marked the Scottish border.
He looked at Ellen, the tension inside him spinning in a sudden eddy, disorientation tumbling over him for a moment. Ellen leaned across him and looked through the window on his side.
The driver slid the hatch open. ‘We’ve crossed the border, Captain.’
Thank God. ‘Hurry then. Stop at the first place you think we will find a witness.’
The carriage hurried on, travelling past the estuary, where a few small boats rested on the sand, left stranded by the low tide.
Paul let go of Ellen’s hand and drew the window down, to look ahead. They passed over the bridge beneath which the river ran out to sea. He saw nothing as the chill night air rushed into the carriage.
He heard Ellen slide down the opposite window. A harsh cold draft swirled through the carriage penetrating his clothing.
Come on,he urged the horses. He leaned out of the window and looked back along the track. There were no carriages, or horses, pursuing them.
‘I see something!’ Ellen called. ‘A little forge beside the road.’
He looked ahead and saw nothing on his side. Looking up at the box, he yelled, ‘Driver. We will stop at the forge!’
Slipping back into the carriage, he turned to Ellen.
She smiled broadly, her fingers holding the sill of the open window as the breeze swept a few loose strands of hair off her face. She had taken off her bonnet. It rested on the carriage seat between them.
