***
“Are you hungry, Marguerite? It’s been several hours already since we left London.”
Several hours? Sitting in the well-appointed carriage across from Walker, who faced the rear of the rumbling conveyance, Marguerite shook her head and fought to steady her breathing.
Lindsay had been so kind to fill a hamper for them with bread, cheese, and other savories, and several bottles of cider and wine, but Marguerite had no appetite at all. How could she?
The time had flown in a blur, even with the one stop they’d just made for a change of horses. At this swift pace, Walker had said they would arrive in Gretna Green by the morning after next!
He’d told her the glossy black carriage, a gift to him by his father, was one of the sleekest and lightest ever built. The four lathered matched bays, also a gift, had been stabled at the coaching house to rest up for their return and exchanged for the best team the proprietor had to offer—and so Walker intended to do at every twenty-mile mark.
No footmen had accompanied them to add to the load, and Walker planned to replace the liveried driver, who would be well compensated for his silence, with hired ones when the time warranted. Everything seemed to be falling so seamlessly into place—even the new carriage bore no Summerlin family crest to identify them!—that to Marguerite it now felt as if heaven above had ordained she’d soon be Walker’s bride.
Oh, Lord. Her cheeks burning, Marguerite occupied herself once more with looking out the window at the passing countryside.
A useless exercise, really, for she could scarcely focus on anything she saw. She felt so flustered, so overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events, which hadn’t abated since she and Walker had left a teary-eyed Lindsay waving after them. Marguerite was almost grateful for the constant clatter of the carriage wheels and pounding horses’ hooves as a cover for her whirling emotions. Walker’s several attempts to draw her into conversation had been drowned out by the ruckus, even with him sitting just across from her.
And of course he should be sitting across from her, as was only proper considering they weren’t yet married. Walker had made no move to do otherwise, instead bracing his muscled leg against the opposite seat and spending much of his time staring out the window, too.
At first Marguerite had been startled that Lindsay hadn’t sent along a maid as a chaperone, which would have also been proper…but then again, she and Walker would soon be husband and wife. That thought made her swallow hard and hazard a glance at Walker, only to find him studying her with a curious look upon his face.
Could it be that he couldn’t quite believe, either, that they were on their way to Gretna Green when she had only just agreed to marry him?
He smiled at her, which made her breath seem to stop.
He was so darkly handsome, unbelievably so, this man whom she’d secretly thought of for three years and prayed that one day she might see again. Now he was seated no more than three feet from her, the toe of his boot touching her knee every time the carriage swayed!
In fact, the road had become so rough that she clutched the leather strap at the window to steady herself even as the carriage wheels hit a jarring rut that made her cry out. She had no more than blinked and Walker now sat beside her, his arm going round the back of her waist to keep her from jouncing off the upholstered seat.
“Oh…oh my!” She felt her teeth almost rattling at another bump, and he pulled her closer against him, bracing his leg now where he’d sat only a moment before. Though the jolting continued for what seemed an eternity, Marguerite felt herself held so tightly, so protectively, that she didn’t bounce at all. His hard thigh pressed against hers steadied her, too.
Then, just as suddenly, the road grew smooth again and the carriage resumed its normal swaying…though Walker made no move to release her or to return to his own seat. Instead he bent his head close to her ear so she would have no trouble hearing him over the clamor of wheels and horses.
“Would you mind if I remain beside you, Marguerite? Just in case, of course…”
His warm breath tickled the shell of her ear, his lips brushing her there with the swaying of the carriage. She didn’t attempt to speak for the rampant pounding of her heart, but nestled closer against him.
She had never before felt so safe and secure as she did at that moment within his embrace.
Her future husband, Walker Burke.
Truly, the man of her dreams…
***
“That wretched bastard.”
Russell smiled in triumph at Belinda’s bitter words, though she didn’t see his reaction from where she stood at the parlor window with her back to him.
Her slender white hand clutched the gold velvet drapery so tightly that he thought she might pull it down from its rod.
Ah, God, the woman possessed fire and fury beneath that cool blond demeanor that he couldn’t wait to savor on their wedding night! If Russell had ever sensed a moment where he could taste the victory of all his dreams and desires, it was this one.
