“It’s my parents,” she said on a short burst of breath. Willow whinnied. “You should go.”
He drew Baird closer. “Arabella, I’ll not leave ye tae face them alone—”
“Gavin,” she interrupted. “They cannot see you like this.”
He looked down at himself, his coat and trousers covered in mud. Frustration flared in his chest.
A feminine figure came and stood on the front steps of Nan’s house, but it wasn’t Nan. Which meant it must be Arabella’s mother.
“Please,” Arabella whispered. “I must do this on my own. Go!” She urged Willow forward, not glancing back.
Everything within him wanted to go to her, to reassure her of his love, to be there as a support as she faced her parents. Gavin knew the hold they had on her. He’d seen the stricken look on her face. It took all his willpower to turn Baird away.
He could hardly recall the rest of the ride home. He was handing the groom his reins and walking inside, heading up the stairs and calling for a bath, but it was as if it was all happening outside of his body.
His mind and heart were with Arabella, desperate to know how she was faring.
When the tub had been filled, Gavin stripped off his filthy clothes and climbed in. The heat of the water turned the dried dirt on his hands and face back to mud, the sludge and silt slowly settling on the bottom of the tub. He stared at his hands. The only trace of that earth-shattering, heart-consuming moment he’d shared with Arabella was the hint of mud beneath the crescents of his fingernails.
He hated this. Hated that he felt so powerless. Who knew how long it might be before he receivedword from her? Tonight? Tomorrow? And what damage might her parents do, what hurt might they inflict in the meantime?
He wanted to hold Arabella in his arms and provide a barrier against it all. Wanted to tease her, provoke her into laughing to lighten her heavy heart. And he wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to be anything other than the magnificent creature she already was.
Because by the heavens, helovedher.
Mind numb with worry, he stayed in the water until it had grown cold. Forcing himself out of the tub, he dried and dressed himself, heading down to the dinner he hardly tasted. And then he paced back and forth in his study, uncertain what to do.
Gavin was accustomed to action, to doing. Fixing things that were broken. Inspecting the state of his property with his own eyes. Offering Nan his arm when he could see her rheumatism was causing her pain. But here, with Arabella, he could do nothing. This was something she would need to do on her own. And he understood why.
In the years to come, she needed to know it had beenherdecision. Not one he’d pushed her into. The choice had to be hers.
But that didn’t make it any easier.
Gavin knew he’d go mad if he stayed here and paced the whole night. Instead, he called for Baird to be saddled again and headed toward the village, to The Fox and Crown where he’d met Arabella that first day.
He needed a whisky. Badly.
It was almost ten when he walked through the door. The inn had its usual patrons, but Gavin wasn’t interested in talking. He was hardly in the mood to be good company. He took a seat at a dark corner table, grateful when he was served almost immediately, a tumbler of whisky set in front of him.
He took a sip of the amber liquid, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat.
“In and out the same day, she was,” said Tom Abercrombie, sitting at a table with friends.
Gavin turned away. When the man drank, he always blethered on.
“Aye?” said his companion.
“Aye.” Tom set down his mug. “She was always a proud one, even when she was young. Thought she was too good fer the likes of us.”
Gavin was on his feet and across the room in three strides. “Ada Hughes?” he asked. “Is that who ye’re talking aboot?”
“Is it Hughes now?” asked Tom, blinking up at Gavin.
“Ada Callender?” he tried, impatient.
“Thasss the one.” His words were slurred.
“And she came back through? Headed south?”
