The first true meal he’d had in years had been when he was fourteen, in a small bistro in France. Alano had been so disgusted by his table manners that he’d turned away, but at the time Douglas hadn’t cared. He’d eaten until he was nearly sick, unable to believe that he could have whatever he wanted. It had taken years to lose that panicked feeling, until he realized that he didn’t have to stuff himself at every meal, that food was readily available to him.
When the carriage was finally off-loaded, the horses coaxed from their car and into their leads, they were nearly ready for the rest of their journey.
Sarah and Florie were taking advantage of the station’s many shops. Douglas remained where he was, trapped by memory. Only when Tim signaled did he move to escort the two women to the carriage.
They traveled down South Street, past the older parts of Perth, to the walled enclosure that held the ruins of Balhousie Castle. He’d escaped there when he could, feasting on the apples from the orchard, sleeping in one of the small outbuildings with its roof still intact. When he was chased off, he went back to the alleys.
With its whiskey distilleries, linen, and bleachingindustries, Perth was a thriving city, and almost as crowded as London. They were blocked in at one point, the carriage slowing to a crawl. From the window, Douglas could see the entrance to a dark, wet alley. Perth occasionally flooded, and it sometimes felt as if the city would never dry. There were places in it that smelled forever of salmon and rot. That alley looked familiar to him. He’d probably hidden behind a few barrels at the end of it, made it his home for however many days or weeks he could escape undetected.
The boy he’d been, eight years old and forever frightened, seemed to look out at him through the mists of time. Uneducated, illiterate, starving, almost animal-like, he’d somehow survived for six years, until the day he’d stowed away aboard a ship, bound for the world and his fortune.
Douglas didn’t have to enter the alley to experience it fully or even to remember. For the whole of his life, he’d be able to recall and be grateful that he’d somehow escaped.
The carriage was a lovely thing, equipped with soft blue velvet cushions, rolled shades, and brass appointments. There was even a clever little contraption between the seats that rose up, allowing her to put her feet a little higher.
Since the roads were so splendid and smooth, they decided to continue traveling and not stop for lunch. Instead, they would eat in the carriage.
“What about Tim?” Sarah asked, opening the hamper they’d purchased in the station at Perth. “We need to save him something.”
“I’ve already given him his share, Lady Sarah,” Florie said. “My Tim is always hungry.”
Sarah handed out a selection of meat pies, fruit tarts with fresh berries, and ale from stoneware jugs.
“When will we reach Kilmarin?” Sarah asked, when their meal was done.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
Four hours later, they stopped at a coaching inn. To her great surprise, Douglas gave the innkeeper orders to hold the four horses for their return, along with the payment to do so.
“The horses are better than most,” he explained, before asking of the innkeeper. “Do you have two rooms available?” At his assent, Douglas turned to Sarah. “You and Florie can sleep in one,” he said. “I’ll take the other, and Tim will watch over the carriage.”
Sarah didn’t comment and kept her expression mild, so as not to betray her thoughts. He was simply being considerate. It would not have been safe for Florie to sleep alone, and Tim needed to watch over the carriage. She would accustom herself to sleeping without him. Heaven knows she had had years of practice at doing so.
Douglas thanked the innkeeper, and after he’d shown them to their rooms, affixed a strange device to the edge of her door.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He handed her a key.
“It’s a traveler’s lock,” he said. “Keep it on the door and lock yourself in.”
“You are much more experienced at traveling than I,” she admitted. “I would be foolish not to take your advice.”
“In this matter, I will not let you disregard it. Either the lock, or me.”
For a moment they studied each other in thedimness of the hall. What would he say if she removed the lock and handed it to him? Would he understand that she wasn’t inviting him to her bed as much as seeking his comfort? The past weeks had taught her that Douglas Eston could be a very great source of comfort.
“I haven’t done anything today,” she said, “but I’m remarkably tired. Why do you think that is?”
“Traveling for long distances in a confined space can wear you out as well as any tedious labor.”
He bent down and before she could stop him, before she was even aware of what he was doing, kissed her.
Speechless, she could only stare after him as he walked across the hall and opened the door to his own room. He didn’t turn to bid her good night. Nor did he fix one of those strange locks to his door. He only closed the door as she stood there watching.
She pressed two fingers against her lips and could almost feel the imprint of his mouth. He had kissed her. Such a soft and sweet kiss that it lingered on her lips.
An hour later, Sarah stood, rearranged her nightgown so it wasn’t twisting around her, and lay back in bed, smoothing the sheet over her before folding it down at the top. She placed the pillow right in the middle of the bed, put her head in the middle of it, and closed her eyes, deliberately seeking sleep.
