Page 55 of A Lady of Means
“Brookevale,” she said, biting her lip to stop it from trembling.
“And it will make you feel better if we get to this church?”
“I have to,” she hated how the conviction and determination she felt in that moment didn’t register in her voice.She followed his eyes as he noted the way her fist was curled around the lapel of his jacket.
“Is it alright if I leave you for just a moment to have the carriage sent for?”
Relief washed over every muscle and sinew.She sagged against the door and sucked in the first full, cleansing breath in minutes.She could only nod.She sat, curled up against the back of the door to her antechamber, unable to speak until he returned.
“Ella has your trunk packed.Mrs.Brierley packed us a picnic basket for the drive.They’ve all agreed to cover for you for 48 hours.The carriage is out front.Can you walk or shall I carry you, my lady?”
He’d arranged all of this in the span of a few minutes after seeing her in tears and asking only a few questions.She wanted to say all the things that this did to her, but she could only show him.She held out a hand and let him help her to her feet.
And then, she buried her head in his chest, both arms clenching his waist like a buoy in changing tides.When she’d felt like she was drowning in her own tears and grief, he’d been solid and steady.When he curled his spine to place his head atop hers, she took in another large breath.
“I can walk,” she said against his chest.
“I figured you’d say that,” She tucked the hint of a smile in his voice into the pocket of her being for later remembrance.“But if you change your mind, I am only a step behind.”
I love you.
Three words standing on the edge of her tongue.
Three words she didn’t have the courage to say.
Yet.
“Thank you,” she said, leaning back to speak them into his eyes, into the small cracks between their bodies.
And he did as promised.He was one step behind her, a stalwart soldier sworn to protect her against all her own demons and pain and pride, as they walked down the stairs and into the mews.He handed her into the carriage and then sat across from her.
“Are you comfortable?”he asked once the carriage turned onto another street.
“If I said I’d be more comfortable next to you?”
“I’d happen to agree.”
When he pulled a small laugh out of her, a few stray tears made it out in its wake.She didn’t know why those four words affected her, but having someone understand, reciprocate even, to want to hold her as much as she wanted to be held was a luxury she hadn’t always been afforded.
His strong, gentle arms pulled her across the seat.They tucked her into his side.They curled around her shoulder and her waist.She placed a hand atop his, tracing a vein from the back of his hand to his forearm.He briefly closed his eyes at the contact, settling them both deeper into the carriage seat.
Surely, he wants to know what sent me into a crying fit?
“Why don’t you rest your eyes and I’ll let you know if we make any stops.”
She looked up at him, into the starry night of his eyes.“What about you?”
“I’m holding you.Don’t you think I’m perfectly content right now?”
Then he must have read her mind, either that or he saw the way her eyes fell to the full, pouty pillow of his bottom lip.He placed her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tipped her face up to his.The light in his eyes became darkness, taking in the bow of her lips seconds before he set his mouth to hers.The press of his lips against hers, one lip circling another, one lip succumbing to the invitation of another.She could taste the mint of his breath and the salt of her own tears.Her hands grasped the back of his head, twining in his dark locks.
A torturously pleasurable groan escaped from him, she chased it into her own mouth.She wanted to taste his sounds.It blocked out the taste of her tears.He blocked out everything else, holding her against him as he said, “You should rest for a while.I’ll be here.”
* * *
When Moria closed her eyes,she saw the same dream she’d seen before countless times.
Her brothers supported Marcus’ weight on either side in the kitchens of Brookevale, his arms slung over their shoulders.
