She didn’t care much for anything at that moment.
Over the din of the storm, she barely heard someone clear their throat nervously. “Miss Nott, do you need assistance? I can escort you back inside, or to the carriage if you like.”
“Carriage,” she said, recognizing the man as the driver that had brought them here.
“This way, miss.”
Shefollowed him, unconcerned with her soaked state. He helped her into the carriage, seemingly unbothered by it as well.
“Could you take me home? Would there be enough time for you to get back for the Duke and Duchess?” she croaked.
The calculations worked across his features as he took in her disheveled state. She prayed to anyone who would listen he could.
Then he gave her a winsome smile. “With a little luck and speed, I think I can, miss.”
Relief flooded her. The moment the door was closed, though, the tears started—great, heaving sobs that came from deep within her.
She’d known Lord Richard wasn’t overly fond of her. But with the way he’d treated her, he must feel nothing short of hatred. If she’d ever hoped she could grow to love him, that was impossible now. She couldn’t marry him. Shewouldn’t.
By the time the carriage came to a complete stop, her sobs had become hiccoughs.
Gathering herself the best she could, she thanked the driver profusely and apologized for the mess, to his dismay. She trudged up the steps, listening to the sound of the carriage and horses plodding through puddles back the way they came. But as she reached for the door handle to Nott Manor, she was certain this wasn’t where she was meant to be, either.
And so, she ran.
Chapter 23
Isobel
Even as she slipped turning the corner of the estate, Isobel urged herself onward. Faster. The night was dark, the rain heavy, but still she pumped her arms, willing herself to go, go, go.
Her lungs burned. Her legs protested. Lightening split the sky, illuminating the world in cosmic violet and piercing white.
By the time she made it to the lavender fields, one of her shoes had come off. Slowing only enough to remove the other one, she left it behind without a backward glance. Her toes sank into the earth, and her hair came free of the ribbons and pins—she was a wild thing of the night.
She’d just left the confines of the fields when red eyes appeared in the distance.
Ved.
The glow from his eye shields was a beacon. She couldn’t speak. And she didn’t know what she would say even if she could.
But there was freedom in every step that took her to him.
His long stride ate the ground up much faster than her short legs could carry her, until he was only paces from her.
“What is it?” he growled, his hand lingering on the hilt of one of his weapons.
But he caught her effortlessly when she hurtled into him, and she collapsed into his embrace.
“What hunts you?”
“No one,” she panted, shaking her head against his sternum. “I just … I needed you.”
She felt his muscles, thick corded things, relax beneath her. Then she was being lifted, cradled against his chest. He inhaled deeply. Like he was breathing her in, like he’d waited a lifetime to hear her say those words.
He didn’t question her further as he stepped into the forest. His hulking form shielded her from most of the rain as he expertly navigated the darkness.
Before she knew it, they were inside his ship, and the sound of the rain hitting the exterior was a deep, resonating patter that soothed her immediately.
