Page 31 of Mine This Winter
That’s when Myrtle rushed forward and shoved Mrs Samuel hard in the back. The lady tumbled over Gwen and fell to the tiled floor below, landing with a heavy thud.
Death’s stillness descended, the silence punctuated by Gwen’s ragged breaths and Myrtle’s cries for mercy.
The front door burst open.
The Lord had answered Gwen’s prayers. Simon mounted the stairs two at a time, while Oliver stared at Mrs Samuel’s lifeless body in disbelief.
“Good God, Gwendolyn.” Simon reached her, crushing her to his chest and raining kisses over her hair. “What were you thinking? This place is a death trap. You might have been killed.”
“I—I feared Oliver would shoot you,” she uttered as tears fell, tears of relief. “I was scared I might lose you.”
Simon clasped her cheeks and dashed the tears away with his thumbs. “Love, the devil himself couldn’t part us a second time.”
CHAPTER 11
Gwen wrapped her cloak across her chest, hugging herself as she stood on the shore, staring at a calmer sea. The spangle of stars in the night sky made her smile. The heavens were celebrating their victory. Fate decreed it safe to travel the seven miles along the coast to Workington.
She did not need a pocket watch to know it was seven o’clock. Nor did she need to turn around to know the clip of booted footsteps on the pebbles heralded Simon’s approach.
He dropped his valise on the stones and slipped his arms around her waist. “Are you sure you’re happy with the plans?”
She hummed as he nuzzled her neck. “I’ve waited five years for you. I’ll not wait another second. After the way my brother has behaved, he will understand our need to do this.”
“I’m not sure Lord Mowbray will. But as this was my last assignment, I don’t give a damn. I’ll send the report once we’ve reached our destination.”
“Did you see Oliver?” Gwen had left a note explaining all and hoped it would suffice.
“He’s drinking port with the magistrate. The coroner’s jury agreed Mrs Samuel’s death was accidental, though your cousin must answer for his naiveté.”
“What about Myrtle?”
“Oliver will make a plea for transportation over the noose.”
Gwen released the sigh she’d been holding. “Good. We can put all this behind us and focus on the future.”
He drew her to face him and captured her chin. “Then, I shall ask you the same question I did two hours ago when we agreed on this plan. I love you. Marry me, Gwendolyn?”
Tears of joy sprang to her eyes. “In a heartbeat.”
“You’re certain you don’t want a lavish wedding in London?”
“Most certain.” She wanted him. Just him.
Simon claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss. His hands roamed over her body, possessing her with every scandalous caress.
They might have slipped into the cave and made love, but the glow of lantern light in the distance signalled the boat’s arrival.
Lord Bancroft rowed to the shore while Miss Netherwell looked on proudly. “Ahoy there!” the lady called, sounding more chipper than she had all week.
Simon carried Gwen to the boat and loaded their luggage. “I shall row to Workington,” he said when Lord Bancroft wiped beads of sweat from his brow. “As you bought the boat, it’s the least I can do.”
Lord Bancroft didn’t argue. “We should make Workington in a few hours. From there, we’ll find someone to take us to Scotland.”
A gentleman at the Pheasant Inn lent them the use of his vehicle for a reasonable sum. Tired and aching, they reached the Scottish border a little after sunrise. They found rooms at Gretna Hall. Once a manor house, the now coaching inn was the perfect place for runaway aristocrats seeking to marry.
While Lord Bancroft had Miss Netherwell carry a posy of winter heather when they exchanged vows, Gwendolyn insisted on holding nothing but Simon’s hands.
Like the night he had buried himself deep inside her, when he pushed the gold band onto her finger love infused every cell.
