Page 43 of The Miracle of Love
He could not use Miranda’s stables since those would be watched, and Caleb’s idea of using Ronan’s horses was a good one.
He and Grace would have to slip out and run fast. He worried about her ability, but Ronan’s house was not too far from here. If she could not make it the entire distance, he would carry her over his shoulder.
Once at his cousin’s stable, they would grab the waiting horses and ride off.
He knew Grace was an excellent rider.
However, this meant their travel pouches would have to be sent on in advance and reliably secured to the saddles. This should not be hard to accomplish since all manner of delivery men were coming and going from Miranda’s home. Butcher, baker, milkman, fishmonger.
More carts were pulling up by the servants’ entrance to deliver cases of wine and a dazzling array of flowers. Miranda was holding nothing back for this party.
It would be the easiest task to sneak whatever they needed in and out, including delivering their travel pouches to Ronan. The mews behind his townhouse was well-sheltered and the foreign agents would not know to look for them there.
By early evening, his plan was underway.
Not all of his ideas worked as perfectly as this one did.
The children went wild over the prospect of wearing masks and later viewing the fireworks. The ladies all found gowns to wear in matching colors and wore their hair in matching styles so that even he had trouble distinguishing one honey-blonde from another at first glance.
But he recognized Grace fairly quickly because he was familiar with the shape of her body despite her constantly wearing thick layers. There was no mistaking the way she moved. Her hips had a distinctively light sway to them he found most appealing.
He came up behind her as the moment neared. “All right, Grace. Take my hand. We are going to run as soon as the next round of fireworks goes off.”
“I’m ready.”
In the next moment, chaos erupted. The night sky above Miranda’s garden filled with massive bursts of light. The children roared with excitement as sparkles and smoke filled the air and a few purposely aimed rockets whizzed toward the foreign agents. The spectacle lasted no more than a few minutes, but it was all the time Deklan needed to have them slip away unnoticed.
Grace was prepared, having worn boots instead of delicate slippers, and she did an admirable job of keeping stride with him.
Ronan’s friend, Captain Robbie MacLauren, was waiting for them at Ronan’s stable. “Are ye sure ye dinna need me along for protection?”
Deklan laughed as he helped Grace onto her saddle. “Sure, a brash Scot the size of a bull moose? No one will notice you. Thanks for the offer but I’ll pass.”
“All right. I’ll no’ take offense this time. Grace, ye are in good hands with this lout. Dinna question his orders. Even a moment’s delay can be fatal.”
She nodded.
And then they were off, masks handed to Robbie, and cloaks securely wrapped around their shoulders as they tore through the London streets to put as much distance between them and Mayfair as quickly as possible.
Deklan thought he would have to slow his pace for Grace’s sake, but Grace was an even better rider than he realized, and she had no intention of holding back. He found himself in the unusual position of having to keep pace with her.
It eased his mind to know she could outrace an enemy if the need ever arose.
They slowed their mounts outside of London since the roads were not as well lit. Fewer torches now guided their way, forcing them to ride carefully through these less populated areas. In their favor, the moon was a big, silver ball shining brightly in the sky and shedding just enough light to illuminate the snowy ground.
The night was crisp and clear, completely unmarred by clouds, which was also in their favor. However, this was winter and a particularly cold night. There would be patches of ice on the ground, particularly treacherous for their horses. They had to slow almost to a crawl in spots to prevent the nervous beasts from slipping.
The frigid breeze grew stronger as the evening progressed.
Deklan realized they would have to seek shelter if the biting wind did not ease up. If it cut through his bones like a sharply honed saw, then it had to be worse for Grace.
“How are you doing, love?” Perhaps he should not have used the endearment, but they were riding in rough conditions and she was holding up admirably. He was proud of her resilience and surprised she had not begged him to find an inn where they could stop for the night.
Well, she had a lot at stake.
But these were harsh conditions, more than most trained agents cared to endure.
“I am doing just fine. You needn’t worry about me. I’ll keep up with you.”
