Page 96 of Marry in Secret
Words did not matter, he told himself as he covered her mouth with his and poured his feelings into a kiss.
***
They made love again into the wee small hours, and slept then. But they’d left the curtains open and were woken by the dawn. They made love one last time, leisurely, lingering over each brush of skin against skin, each touch and caress and taste, as if they had all the time in the world. Refusing to acknowledge the inevitable.
“Kirk will be here in twenty minutes.”
They washed and dressed swiftly and in silence, watching each other, not covertly but openly, boldly. She watched him shave. It was almost erotic. He nicked himself twice, failing to concentrate, watching her watching him.
He watched the way she luxuriated in the caress of the hot water, patted herself dry then smoothed fragrant cream into her skin, sensuous and deeply feminine. He sighed as she shimmied into her chemise, a delicious quivering of female flesh, slipped on a thin silk shirt, then buttoned her glorious curves into the tight-fitting jacket of her habit. He took her hairbrush from her and brushed her hair with slow lingering strokes and she laughed and shook it out carelessly, a gleaming golden mane to be tucked under her riding hat.
Memorizing again. He swallowed. Four hours left with Rose. He didn’t want to waste a minute.
Kirk arrived with the horses and they set off for the park. The crisp, clear morning was a taunt, carrying the promise of summer. He’d be gone by then. They picked their way through carts and barrows and shouting men and darting boys and escaped cabbages. Market day.
“Is it like this on market day in Mogador?”
“In some ways,” he said curtly. “Not in others.” A cacophony of vibrant colors and odors and noise and people and animals—the same, only different. Very different. Some of the people wore chains.
“I can’t wait to see.”
He wasn’t going to talk about it. Didn’t want to think about it.
They met the rest of Rose’s family at the park entrance. “Come on, sluggards, race you!” Lady George yelled, and took off on her spectacular black stallion. And so began a wild race through the park, a mock hunt chasing a girl on a swift black horse and a shaggy gray long-legged dog.
Shouts of laughter, mock threats, pounding hooves, the heat of the horses, the blast of fresh air through the lungs. Thomas gulped it all down. Memorizing.
Finally the mad race slowed and they came to a halt, breathless and laughing. “One of these days you’ll get us all banned from the park, George,” Lily said, laughing.
“Pooh, you didn’t have to follow. Anyway, there’s nobody around—nobody who cares, at any rate. All the stuffy people are still abed. I’d go mad if I couldn’t have my morning gallop, and so would Sultan and Finn.”
“I’m going to water my horse,” Galbraith said, and they trotted toward the lake, two by two. Thomas and Rose trailed behind. “I’m going to miss this,” Rose said. “But they have wonderful horses in Arabia, don’t they? George named her horse Sultan because he’s half Arab. She raised him herself, from a c—”
There was a loud bang. It sounded like a gunshot but surely it couldn’t be, not in a public park. Thomas looked around but could see nobody. He turned to Rose. “What do you think that w— Rose!”
Under his horrified gaze she tilted sideways and would have fallen to the ground had he not lunged across and steadied her. “Rose!”
She muttered something, and her weight suddenly increased. She’d fainted. The horses shifted restlessly and with some difficulty Thomas managed to free her from her sidesaddle and half lift, half drag her across to his own saddle.
She lay across his lap, cradled in his arms, wan and senseless. A dark stain was spreading across the back of her jacket. One-handed he unbuttoned it and pulled it down. The flimsy white silk shirt she wore underneath was saturated with blood.
Thomas ripped off his neckcloth, wadded it up andpressed it against the bloody wound on Rose’s back. It turned instantly red.
“What the devil’s going on?” Ashendon rode up. He took one look at Rose and blanched. “Oh, my God. Not again!”
Again?It made no sense to Thomas. “She’s been shot.”
“I can see that. Get her to Ashendon House. I’ll fetch a doctor.”
“No, a surgeon in case the ball is still in her.”
“I know who to fetch,” Ashendon snapped. “Just get her out of here.”
Thomas was already moving. His every instinct was to ride like the wind, but he had to keep the pace slow and gentle because to jolt Rose any more would worsen her injury and increase the bleeding.
Her eyelids fluttered and she moaned.
“Stay with me, love. I’m here. You’re all right, I have you safe.” Nonsense, he was talking utter nonsense. Safe? She was bleeding all over him.
