Page 9 of The Forbidden Love of an Officer
They came to a gate, but he did not dismount, he merely leaned down to open it, and then they were in the woods, where the frost had not yet settled.
Here darkness reigned. It left him reliant on the horse’s sight as they kept low to avoid tree branches; then he had to slow and keep the horse at a trot.
When they reached the clearing at the bottom of the ridge on which her father’s tall folly stood, he took a moment to regain his bearings and then set off through the trees again.
Due to the darkness, it took half an hour to reach the inn. When she dismounted, his mind counted the minutes passing, aware of her empty bedchamber and the people asleep back at Pembroke’s palatial mansion. At some hour tomorrow they would discover her gone. His heart beat in a steady firm rhythm as he held her hand and she slid from the horse.
While she waited on the ground, her arms nervously clasping across her chest, he dropped her bag onto the cobbled yard then slipped his feet from the stirrups, swung his leg over the saddle, and dismounted.
The ice had not yet settled in the enclosed courtyard, but the street beyond was white with frost. He patted the mare’s cheek as it snorted, and whispered a thank you, then looked at the small, yellow-painted carriage, and the horses which waited, impatiently shaking out their manes and snorting misty breath into the night air.
A groom took the bridle of the hired mare he’d ridden to fetch Ellen and another collected Ellen’s bag to place it in the boot of their carriage.
‘Come.’ He held out his hand to Ellen and she took it, in complete trust. He was a lucky man.
The inn’s grooms hurried ahead to open the door.
It was strange, holding a woman’s hand. When he had walked with a woman before, she had only ever lain her hand on his arm. This was more intimate. She belonged to him. He was responsible for her now, even if it was not yet official.
Paul handed her into the carriage. She climbed the single step then slipped inside. Once her hand left his, he reached into his pocket for a small bag of coins. He looked at the groom beside him and then to the other two who stood in the yard. ‘For your silence.’ He passed it to one to share out among the rest. He could ill afford it and it would be no guarantee, yet he did not want Pembroke warned. He had not said who she was, but she had the distinctive Pembroke colouring and beauty, with her dark hair and very pale blue eyes. She would not be forgotten.
‘Thank you, Captain.’ The man pulled his forelock and the others bowed their heads as Paul glanced at the postilion rider and the man on the carriage’s box. The small carriage would be steered by the rider on the front right of the four horses, the second man was so they could change over and keep going through the night, so one could sleep while the other rode the lead horse.
With a nod Paul climbed up into the carriage. The moment he closed the carriage door, the carriage lurched forward. Even before they left the silent village, shrouded in its blanket of night, 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 had told the drivers three dozen times before he had left to fetch Ellen. It seemed they had 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 take her back.
‘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 eyes bright and determined. Yes, she had a core of iron. She would survive. ‘I love you.’
Those words…He smiled. They had shared them for the first time a fortnight ago. It had been the first time he had spoken them, and the first time he had 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. 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 had been looking out the window but now he looked at her and smiled – that kind, warm smile she had 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 had 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 had read her mind, or perhaps her expression.
