Tears falling down her cheeks, Hope nodded as Graham leaned in and kissed her again. In her heart, she had already forgiven him.
She was sure she was melting into him when he turned and carried her down the first two steps. She forced herself to pull away.
“G-Graham,” she stuttered, knowing they would soon be in full sight of the guests below. “We’ll be seen.”
“Aye.”
She thought for a moment that he might concede, but in the next second, she saw him bend before her, and suddenly his hands gripped her around her thighs as he heaved her over his shoulder.
“Graham! Let me go this instant!”
“Never again.”
He ignored her frustrated huffs, not seeming fazed at all despite the inherent ridiculousness of their positions. Hope hid her face as he walked her down the stairs, ignoring the hoots and hollers from the barmen and his customers. He marched her out of the tavern and into the twilight. Finding her horse, he took the reins and walked it to his. Lifting her up on his own steed, he sat behind her, and they left in a fast trot.
Hope frowned as she realized they weren’t heading back to Lismore Hall.
“Graham, where are we going?”
“To see Rory.”
The name was vaguely familiar, but Hope couldn’t place it.
“Who?”
“The blacksmith.”
“Why are we going to a blacksmith?”
“Because we have some business to tend to.”
Realization dawned on Hope.
“Do you mean… Are we to be married? Tonight?”
“Aye.”
“But the church! And the flowers and all the guests.”
“Aye, we’ll do that too,” he said, holding her tightly to him, his mouth warm on her ear. “But I’ll not let you go one more day without being my wife.”
A swell of satisfaction popped in her chest and she snuggled back into his strong body.
“Aye,” was all she said in response.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The moon was just beginning to rise when they reached Rory’s blacksmith shop, but the building was completely dark. The blacksmith was known to turn in early, as he was an early riser, and it cost Graham several favors to rouse the old man from his bed, but once he finally set himself to the task, they were married in quick fashion. Rory’s knowing smirk seemed to irritate Graham, but Hope’s hand on his arm was enough to keep him well enough in check.
After sending off a missive to Lismore Hall to inform the family that Graham had indeed rescued Hope, they rode through the evening to the hunting lodge. Upon their arrival they found the estate completely quiet.
Glancing around the foyer once she’d stepped inside, she noted the antler decorations that seemed to be in every Scottish home—though here, they were in even greater profusion than she was accustomed to seeing. Sighing, she followed Graham as he led the way down the hall, fighting off a yawn. Graham led her to a library, with a pair of French doors that led out into a courtyard.
“Here,” Graham said, bringing her to a lounge. “I’ll be right back.”
Hope nodded, letting her eyes close as she laid down. When she opened her eyes, a cool light emanated through the French doors. She had fallen asleep.
Sitting up, Hope looked around the room. Her shoes had been removed and a heavy knit blanket had been draped over her. Graham’s jacket was draped over a velvet sitting chair. There was no sign of where he’d disappeared to, but she guessed he hadn’t gone far.
