“I wasn’t interested in warnings.”
“You never are.”
“I don’t like to hesitate.” She wound her hands into his hair and rocked against his fingers. “Iliketo seize.”
She lost herself in his kiss. A kiss like a newly discovered shelter, with precipitation and wind all around them and quiet heat within. She set herself apart from the not-knowing, running her hand along his smooth chin.
She hid no sensation from her face as he took her where he wished her to go.
And when he coaxed her to the peak, she cascaded like water over jagged rocks, shimmering through a thousand disparate droplets that had once moved together as a stream. Then, she became the still, silent pool. The quiet that hid depths.
He rolled his forehead against hers, his arms tightening in discourse that never found words.
These small pieces of him he allowed…they’d be enough.
They had to be enough.
“Better?” he asked.
“Not for you, though.”
“You’d be surprised, minx. You’d be surprised.”
She shifted in his lap, arranging her skirts back over her legs. But when she made a move to climb back to her side of the carriage, he held her in place.
No verbal protest. Just a firm hand against her hip.
Stay.
Very well. She rested her head against his shoulder.
He drew aside her hair and placed his heavy palm across the back of her neck.
Safe. Protected.
This was either the start of something unspeakably glorious or the beginning of a wretched, gasping end.
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Chapter Fourteen
Julia floated in the languid aftermath of pleasure for the rest of the trip to Carlisle—her questions, her uncertainties diffused in the warm comfort of Rayne’s embrace. What problems may come surely couldn’t scale a man so solid, so warm, so vibrant.
By late morning, they reached a tavern called The Bush. A boisterous crowd gathered in the courtyard, several of them exchanging funds. Rayne’s intent gaze traveled through the crowd…searching.
“Have we stumbled on some sort of festival?” she asked.
“They happen sometimes—these gatherings. Planting and harvesting are finished.” He took a pensive breath. “So the locals sometimes gather around in courtyards in hope of entertainment.”
“Entertainment?”
He met her gaze. “Carlisle inns are the last possible stop before Gretna. Sooner or later, the spectators are bound to witness a diverting confrontation between an angry father and a desperate would-be groom.”
Now she understood why he’d been searching. If anyone from Southford had pursued them and had traveled without stopping, they might be waiting.
She set back her shoulders.
Anyone wishing to stop them would have come in vain. Nothing could prevent her from marrying Rayne.
