Chapter 13
Marguerite closed her eyes and tried again to sleep, but how could she? Only one thought echoed in her tortured mind…tomorrow morning Walker would challenge Russell to a duel.
Tomorrow morning Walker would challenge Russell to a duel!
How could she go on if something happened to him? They’d been together for only a few days, but she couldn’t imagine life without him. No, no, she could not think any more that she might lose him!
Giving up on sleep, she threw aside the covers and climbed out of bed, deciding instead that she must find him. Talk to him. Plead with him! Surely there was another way besides a duel to bring Sir Russell Scott to justice—
“Walker…” Marguerite heard footsteps that she guessed at once were his the closer they came to her door, not leisurely but hastening toward her just as she ran to meet him. He had no sooner entered the room than she flung her arms around his neck and he lifted her from the floor, embracing her as fiercely as she embraced him.
Had it been only an hour since she’d seen him? It felt like days, weeks!
Dressed only in her chemise, she felt the warmth of his hands pressed into her back as he kissed her fiercely, too…as if he were thinking of what might happen in the morning. Then she felt him carrying her toward the bed, her lips clinging to his, her arms still wound around him.
She didn’t want him to ever let her go, but he did, to settle her upon the mattress. Not lying down, but sitting, her arms falling from around his neck while he knelt on the floor in front of her and clasped her hands. The curtains were drawn yet not tightly so afternoon sunlight filtered into the bedchamber, and Marguerite scanned every line, every nuance of Walker’s beloved face.
He stared at her, too, and bent his dark head to kiss her fingers and then once more met her eyes.
“A messenger brought news from Cornwall…” he began only to have Marguerite gasp, though he shook his head as if to reassure her. “No, no, good news from your brother-in-law, Donovan. The tinners were found and are safe and sound with their families. All is well there.”
Her relief so immense that she lowered her head for a moment, tears blurring her vision, Marguerite could only think then of why she’d jumped from the bed to find him. She looked up to see that Walker watched her silently, giving her time she guessed to take in such welcome news—though she was no longer thinking of Cornwall but of him.Only him!
“Walker, I beg you…find another way than a duel. Please find another way!” Tears spilled down her cheeks now, and he let go of her hands to reach up to brush the wetness tenderly away.
“There is no other way, Marguerite. We’ve no witnesses to verify our charge to a magistrate that my cousin paid those cutthroats to murder us.”
“But the constable in Gretna Green agreed as well that they had clearly attempted to do us grave harm. The one came at you from behind with a knife and you had to defend yourself, while the other…oh, God, if he hadn’t slipped on that soap—”
“No more!” Walker’s anguished demand silenced her, and he rose from his knees to pull her from the bed into his arms. She couldn’t see his face as he hugged her, holding her so tightly against his chest that she could hear his pounding heartbeat.
“Woman, I’ve thought almost every moment since I kicked in that door of what might have happened if you hadn’t fought him—fought for your life! Those men earned their just reward and Russell’s treachery willnotgo unpunished. By God, I swear it!”
Marguerite said nothing, could say nothing, even as Walker’s shirt against her cheek had grown wet from her tears.
He would not be swayed. She knew that now, just as she must face whatever the outcome in the morning. Yet now they were together for the precious hours they might have left to them…
Marguerite lifted her head and reached up her hands to touch his face, only to find his cheeks wet, too, beneath her trembling fingers.
His eyes, midnight black, stared into hers, his voice grown so hoarse that he spoke in no more than a whisper.
“Marguerite, whatever happens…know that I love you.Love you…”
He pressed his lips to hers before she could speak. Her hands fell from his face to clutch at his shirt as his kiss, so impassioned, yet so tender, echoed the words she had longed to hear.
Yes, they had these precious hours left to them…whatever might happen, and she would think of the morning no more. Only of this moment.Onlyof him.
She curled her fingers into the tear-dampened fabric of his shirt as if she could rend it from him, but she didn’t need to. She heard him groan. She felt him lift her from her feet and lay her upon the bed in the time it took for her to draw a breath.
