And maybe theyweremad to be eloping together based on a vow they’d made as children. Or maybe it was everyone else, everyone who went about their daily lives without doing everything in their power to grab on to this sort of delirious, once-in-a-lifetime-love, that were the mad ones.
“Ye came.” He resisted–barely–planting a kiss upon her mouth the likes of which would have sent the elderly spinster observing them from the doorway of the teashop into a dead faint. Instead, he swung her around once more, and then reluctantly returned her feet to the ground.
“I apologize for being late,” she said breathlessly, brushing a tendril of hair out of her eyes. “I had trouble finding the dress I wanted to wear for our wedding, and then Drufus made off with one of my shoes. My maid found it in a flowerbed, and–”
“Ye came,” he repeated. “Nothing else matters.”
“Is that our carriage?” she asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“Aye. I know it’s probably not as large as ye are used tae, but as long as the horses hold up, we’ll be in Gretna Green tomorrow eve.”
She ducked her chin, then peered at him from beneath her lashes as a demure smile played across her lips. “I would think a smaller carriage would lend itself to a more intimate seating arrangement, Lord Campbell. Don’t you agree?”
“Aye,” he managed to growl as lust gripped him by the bollocks and gave a tantalizing squeeze. “I do.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” She flitted past him and, after lifting her carpet bag, he quickly followed suit.
“Gretna Green,” he told the driver, who tipped his cap.
“With clear skies and smooth roads, we should make excellent time, my lord.”
Lachlan barely heard him. He was too busy admiring the plump curve of Brynne’s backside as she climbed into the brougham and settled against the far window, the narrower skirts of her emerald green traveling habit taking up far less room than her gown from the night before.
Every fiber of his being wanted to pounce on her the instant they set off. To be this close, with nary a hawkish chaperone in sight…suffice it to say, it took aconsiderableamount of self-control to remain on his side of the carriage.
“Ye packed lightly,” he remarked, having noted the inconsequential weight of her luggage before he’d pushed it beneath the seat.
She nodded. “Enough for a few days. I thought it would be easier to have my belongings sent to me once we reach Campbell Castle. My maid is packing a trunk as we speak.” As she shifted to face him, her eyes shone with curiosity. “Can you tell me more about it? The castle, that is. You’ve shared bits and pieces over the years, but I would enjoy having a clearer picture of where we are going to live. I’m sure it’s absolutely breathtaking.”
Aye, he thought silently.If ye dinna mind bats in the stairwell and fresh rain falling from the ceiling.
“It does have its own unique charm,” he allowed. “Given her age–nearly four hundred years–there’s always work tae be done and improvements tae be made. But she’s a sturdy old lady, whose walls have withstood many a battle with a flood thrown in here and there for good measure.”
“And your father doesn’t live there anymore?”
“When he inherited Kintore Manor, there was a lot of work tae be done. He stayed here for most of it, and then moved a few years after I left Eton. Fancies himself a real gentleman now.” Lachlan grinned as he recalled the last time he’d gone to visit his sire. Robert Campbell had been wearing an actual cravat, with a tailcoat to finish it off. He’d even carried a silver-tipped cane, which he had used to whack his son good-naturedly across the shins when Lachlan doubled over in laughter. “He wouldna lower himself tae be caught in a crumbling castle.”
“Crumbling?” said Brynne, her head tilting.
“A matter of speaking,” he said hastily. “What…what did yer brother have tae say when ye told him we were eloping? I willna lie, I expected tae see him hot on yer heels and tae be rocked back onto mine if he caught ye.” He grinned. “Not that I’d blame him, seeing as I’m running off with his one and only sister.”
“He…didn’t have much to say about it.”
“Really?” Lachlan said skeptically. “I find that hard tae believe.”
Brynne looked down at her hands that she’d folded neatly across her lap. She wore ivory kid gloves that extended past her delicate wrists and ended in a scalloped lace edge. “Maybe because I…I didn’t tell him.”
His eyes narrowed. “And why wouldna ye do that?”
“Just as you said. I knew Weston would try to stop me, and…and I didn’t want him to. This wasmydecision to make, Lachlan. Not his. Not anyone’s but mine.”
It was a plausible explanation, and yet…
“Then ye mean tae tell him by post after we’re married.”
“I…of course. I’ll send a letter straightaway explaining everything.”
The hesitation was slight, he’d given her that.
