Isla finally closed the last agonizing distance between them. She reached out, placing her hands on his wet, tense shoulders, and pulled herself forward until her body was pressed against his sweat-damp shirt.
“I am sure I can get most creative in coming up with ways to make it up to you, Your Grace,” he said as his fingers trailed the length of her jaw and up to her cheek, stroking it reverently. “I will bow down to you every night if that is what it will take. In fact, I was thinking-”
“You can stop thinkin’, Yer Grace,” she murmured as she stood on her toes and pressed her lips against his neck, the title now a term of endearment. “Stop thinkin’ altogether and just live here with me. We are here now. The rest doesnae matter.”
Isla tipped her head back, her gaze meeting his brilliant blue eyes. He was so breathtakingly handsome. He was a formidable, comforting wall of tall, muscular strength, and he had saved her. She loved the contrast of his eyes against his dark black hair, the rugged texture of his beard.
With a ragged sigh, she sealed their promise with a kiss that held no trace of duty or desperation, only profound, shattering relief and a dawning, absolute love for the magnificent manbefore her. The kiss was a reminder of everything their original arrangement had forbidden, and everything their hearts had demanded. Their connection was consuming, absolute, and real.
“We are leaving, Isla,” Benedict stated, his voice now low and decisive, but stripped of its cold command. “We are leaving London in the morning. We will not spend another moment in this cursed city, not after what it brought to our door.”
Isla nodded instantly. “Aye. Ealdwick. It is safe there. It is home.”
“Home is wherever you are,” Benedict said as he gently took her hand, threading his fingers through hers.
That morning, the house, still reeling from the shock of the attempted kidnapping, transformed into a hive of urgent activity.
Benedict moved through the halls with the silent precision of a man who had faced his worst fear and came out winning. The luggage was to be ready for the morning carriage run, the stables prepared, and absolute silence maintained regarding the night’s events.
The staff moved not out of duty, but out of relieved loyalty. They had watched their beloved Duke and Duchess suffer throughweeks of coldness. Seeing them united, even in the crisis of departure, was surely a comfort, and Benedict sensed it.
In turn, he watched Isla work with swift efficiency. She packed the small trunk for Oliver, ensuring his favorite toys and blankets were all tucked safely away for home.
As she packed her own gowns, the velvet cloak she had used to protect Oliver now draped over the chaise, she caught sight of the large, empty master suite.
She paused only long enough to pen a quick, reassuring note to Eilidh, keeping the details vague.
Dear Eilidh,
We are gone for Ealdwick at once; some unfortunate events have befallen us. But rest assured that all is well now, sister. Oliver is well. Daenae fret. I will write to ye from the country and hope to see you for Christmas.
All My Love, Isla
She did not mention Lamfort. The kidnapping. The pistol. There would be time for that later. Isla handed the note to a waiting footman and entered the main foyer, finding Benedict waiting for her by the front door.
“Everythin’ is ready?” she asked softly.
“All essential items have been secured on top of the carriage,” he confirmed, his eyes resting on her. “And everything else will be left behind.”
The fear, the guilt, and the loneliness…
They walked hand-in-hand to the carriage as soft snowflakes began to fall from the sky in the fresh morning light. Oliver, still sleepy but settled, was carried by Benedict in his other arm. The footman opened the door, and he placed the boy gently on the plush velvet seat.
As the carriage began to roll, clattering over the cobblestones one last time, Isla leaned her head against Benedict’s shoulder. He immediately shifted, pulling her close and resting his chin atop her hair.
“Sleep,a ghràidh,” she murmured to the boy. “It is over now. It is all done, me love. Dream of Christmas!”
The journey to Ealdwick Manor was a welcome shift in atmosphere. The tension of the last weeks dissolved with the falling snow, replaced by a quiet, comforting intimacy for the small family as they made their way home. Oliver woke fully a few hours in, and instead of sensing the usual strained silence that had plagued their house, he found them all sharing a blanket.
The boy immediately clambered onto Benedict’s lap, settling his small body against his father’s coat.
“Papa, tell me about the river again,” he asked. “Tell me how loud you shouted when you were coming to save us! You were just like a hero from one of my books! Like Hercules!”
Benedict gently shifted his position and looked down at Oliver, his face soft as he stroked a stray lock of curly hair behind his ear.
“I shouted very loudly, son. Like a bear that found his cub.”
“It was all so scary, but you were a hero!”
