“You are no longer close to them?”
“As close as it is possible to be when I lead a very different life to them. They will not miss me, and I will not miss them.” His fingers gripped her chin, and then he looked into her eyes. “But you will be my family now, and I will be yours. We will be each other’s comfort and companion. That is what I wish for us.”
His words sent shivers running across her skin. “Yes, that is what I want too – to make you happy,”
“And I wish more than anything to make you happy, so we have hope, Ellen.” His head lowered and he kissed her.
The ache in her stomach swept out to her limbs – yet along with the pleasure of his warmth and gentleness came concern; his gentle hands could kill a man…
When they pulled into an inn a little while later, having driven into the town of Penrith, Paul moved immediately, letting her go so she could sit up. He climbed out of the carriage in a moment, lowered the step, and then lifted his hand to help her.
She took it and smiled as he smiled at her. “Let us go in search of refreshment.”
The cobbles of the courtyard were slippery from the snow, so they walked tentatively. He kept a hold of her hand. It was protective, –the way he had been with her ever since they’d been together.
She’d never seen her father be even slightly attentive to her mother. She’d only seen her father give orders and her mother obey and defer to his wishes. This side of Paul, the man she had first met in the summer, was precious gold in her eyes. If only there was not also the part of him that frightened her a little – the image of the highwayman lying dead in his blood still hovered in her head.
Paul ordered cured ham, cheese and freshly baked bread to break their fast, and then asked how many miles they were away from the Scottish border and how long it would take them to get there. The innkeeper implied they could make it by nightfall, if the snow neither melted nor started falling again.
By nightfall. In hours they might be wed.
They ate hurriedly, not wishing to delay. But then, watching her closely, looking into her eyes, Paul suggested they walk away from the inn, and a little way up the road, so he could stretch out before having to endure the cramped carriage again.
His long legged stride made it difficult for her to keep up, especially as the layer of snow caught on the hem of her skirt making her velvet habit heavy as it soaked up the moisture. But she liked the gentle give of the crisp snow beneath her half boots and slid her feet through it. She slipped. Her fingers gripped the firm muscle of his forearm.
His solidity and security gripped at her heart.
Oh, but his strength enabled him to kill men.
Her gaze turned to the picturesque village green on the far side of the road. Its fresh white coat looked beautiful, pure and peaceful.
“Shall we cross?” Paul asked. “I think it is too late now to make any difference if anyone were to remember us.”
Ellen nodded, her fingers gripping his arm more firmly, denying her thoughts of the warrior within him.
“Come then.” He turned and led her over. On the far side his arm dropped from her grip as he bent, then he quickly grasped a hand full of snow, turned, and tossed it at her; a huge smile cutting his face and laughter glimmering in his eyes. Ellen squealed turning away as it hit the side of her bonnet.
“Oh you brigand!” She laughed. He did too, bending to gather another handful of snow.
Ellen bent and grasped some too, crushing it in her fingers to make it denser. Then she threw it at him.
He threw his. It hit her breast. The snow stuck to her cloak.
The cold, the exercise and the laughter tumbled through her senses in an exhilarating rush.
He still laughed as he brushed snow from his shoulder and she ran a few steps away then turned and threw another handful at him. It nearly missed him only brushing his ear as he ducked. She bent and filled two hands, as a missile of cold snow hit her back.
She laughed again, smiling so widely it made her cheeks begin to ache, and lifted both her hands, full of snow. Still laughing she ran at him. He did not try to avoid her ambush as she neared and thrust the snow at his face, he only shut his eyes and his lips.
She laughed even more as the snow fell away, but then a look of retribution slipped across his face, although his blue eyes glinted with laughter and a smile hovered at the corners of his mouth.
His smile parting his lips, he gripped her shoulders and tumbled her backwards so she fell onto the snow. He fell with her, on top of her, though he did not crush her.
All the air left her lungs as her gaze caught his. Laughter no longer lingered in his eyes, but something else shone in them, something deep, warm and heartfelt. Her laughter died too, a moment before his lips pressed to hers. It was unlike any kiss they’d shared in the carriage. They lay on a green before the inn, with several cottages about them. He just pressed his lips over hers for a moment. But the pressure of his lean athletic body, and the knowledge that last night he had killed a man, and that in a few hours they would be married fought a battle of emotion inside her. Her heartbeat thundered.
He pulled away, kneeling first and then getting up, before offering her his hand. Once he’d pulled her up he began dusting snow from her cloak.
It had been good to laugh. She’d needed laughter, and perhaps he’d known. Perhaps he’d needed laughter too. This beautiful, young, elemental, warrior was not invincible. He felt pain and hurt over the loss of life. He must be weighed down by memories. He needed her. She would protect him too, love him and comfort him, and she would make him happy.
“We’d better be on our way,” he prompted, his voice implying the threat which still hung over them, of being caught by her father.
She nodded, taking his offered hand.
“Things will be good between us, Ellen. I promise. I know last night was abhorrent to you. Death is a terrible thing, no matter that a man is your enemy, and even if he is trying to kill you. I hope you will not have to face it often, and I will do everything I can to protect you. I love you.”
“I know.”
She could face living on the edge of a battlefield, as long as he had to endure fighting on one, and when he came back she would help him fight the ghosts.
“You will endure, Ellen, and we will be happy. I swear it to you.”
~
It had turned to dusk as the carriage dashed the last few miles towards Gretna, and Paul urged it on mentally, as he could not give physical encouragement. But it felt far too slow, and he would have gladly given anything to be up on the box shouting at the horses and flicking a whip. There had been no more snow, thank God, and no thaw to make the roads turn to a quagmire of muddy slush but even so the weather hindered their pace. The tracks they travelled over were hard yet slippery, so they could not race at full tilt.
Hurry. Hurry. He still had no idea if her father followed. But they’d lost time last night and it would be the worst thing to be caught just before Gretna.
Come on. Faster.
He wanted to jump out and pull the damned horses. Come on.
Ellen sat beside him, and his hand held hers, probably too tightly. He relaxed his grip, but he knew she was anxious too. They both sat forward looking from opposite windows, listening for the noise of a carriage or riders in pursuit. But surely no one could gain any ground on them; their carriage had been forced to go slower but it was not slow.