“Will you come, Guinevere?” she asked, nervously. “I know it is a long way away, but I have missed you so. I do not want to leave you here, particularly when Papa is not himself.”
“Of course I am coming, my dear!” Guinevere said, smiling brightly at Bernadine as she took her hand. “Seamus here told me it was Donnan’s plan all along to take me with you both, and while I will say that the prospect of a trip so far north does scare me, it also rather excites me. I’ve never left England, you know. I think it’s high time I had an adventure before my days are at an end.”
Bernadine knew that Guinevere was being positive to make up for the reticence she felt leaving her father. She would not get to say goodbye to him. Would not even get to see him before she left. She might be angry at him, furious, really, at him for locking her up and throwing away the key, but she still loved him. Worried about him.
How will he cope with me gone? And this time, willingly?
“Lass,” Seamus said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m afeared the time is now for leavin’. I’ll take ye first and then come back for Guinevere.”
Bernadine nodded, looking around her and saying a silent goodbye to the room, the house, and its owner.
“Go on, my dear,” Guinevere urged her. “It is time.”
Chapter 27
As Donnan looked at the wreckage he had created, he realized he perhaps could have picked a less destructive signal to alert his men that the time had come to take Bernadine away from the house.
However, that morning, with his mind blurry due to lack of sleep and too much worry, throwing something through the windows of Lord Nibley’s house had seemed a perfectly sensible plan of action. After all, Lord Nibley deserved far more than the hassle of replacing a window or two after how he had treated his own daughter.
But what Donnan had not realized was quite how angry the man would get when a pot of ink was thrown through one of the windows of his library.
Nibley’s face was dark with rage as he looked from the window back to Donnan, his mouth open as he spewed invectives. The racket was making it rather hard for Donnan to hear the signal he had asked his men to send to notify him that Bernadine and Guinevere were safely away from the house. It had been ten minutes since he had thrown the ink pot, and surely his men had succeeded in taking the lasses away to a safe location by now?
Och, when will this Sassenach cease his yellin’? he thought as he looked away from the broken window and back toward Lord Nibley. The man had momentarily stopped yelling, taking a deep breath in an effort to fuel his next tirade, but the moment of silence was enough for Donnan to hear it: the sound that perfectly mimicked an owl’s hoot.
It was one of Seamus’ talents, the ability to mimic bird noises, and it came in handy surprisingly often. Donnan heard it clear as day, the signal he had been waiting for.
Donnan’s heart lifted knowing Bernadine was safe. He could not help the smile on his face when he turned to Lord Nibley and executed a deep bow, letting his head dip all the way toward the dirty tips of his boots before rising.
“As much as I’d like to continue hearing such insults thrown me way, I’m afeared I must leave ye both. It is clear we shall not reach any conclusion today, so I suggest we leave the matter for now. I’ll return tomorrow and hopefully then, I’ll be able to make ye see sense, Me Lord,” Donnan told Lord Nibley.
Of course, he would not be returning tomorrow. I’ll never return to England again if I can help it, Donnan vowed. The country had brought him nothing but strife, and he very much looked forward to seeing the back of it. He could only hope that Bernadine felt the same.
He would, however, miss Lord Hammilton, who was currently looking at him with wide-eyed confusion. Donnan felt a touch guilty that he had not divulged his plans to his friend, but he could not risk Hammilton revealing them to Nibley. Bernadine’s safety was too important to leave to chance.
I’ll send him a letter of apology. He’ll understand. He kens that a man will do anythin’ for the woman he loves.
And as Donnan turned around and walked out of the library, down the hall and out of Harrow House’s back entrance, he could not wait to see his woman. Let the men think what they like of him. He had far better things to attend to.
* * *
Bernadine was beginning to grow anxious. It had been over an hour since she and Guinevere had escaped from Harrow House, and still Donnan had not met them. Seamus had assured her that he was on his way. “No doubt slowed down by the fact that he had not slept,” Seamus had said. But she could not help the agitation growing more with every passing minute that Donnan did not appear.
“But you arrived at the same time. Surely you are running on just as little sleep?” she said to the man.
Shaking his head, Seamus said, “Nay, lass. We stopped at two inns along the way for short periods of rest. Some of us are not as young as we once were, ye ken. We dinnae have the energy that fuels our Laird. He waited for us to arrive this mornin’, but I doubt he used the time to rest. He’s looked a sorry sigh’ ever since ye left.”
Hearing this made Bernadine even more anxious to see her love. They had both suffered great pains in each other’s absence, and their reunion would do much to buoy both their spirits.
Bernadine’s eyes turned back toward the path in the woods. Donnan’s men had taken her and Guinevere to a spot they had picked out earlier with Donnan, one that was hidden from the public paths but easy enough to find if one looked. Bernadine had been staring at the break in the trees they had walked through, hoping to see the sight of Donnan riding toward them, but the break remained frustratingly empty.
“I am sure he will come soon, my dear,” Guinevere said, laying a hand on her shoulder. Bernadine nodded, trying to take comfort from her former governess’ words, but, as happened so often now, she could feel tears brimming in her eyes.
Where is he? What has become of him? she wondered as she blinked, swiping at moisture that had dripped down her cheek. She accepted a proffered handkerchief from one of Donnan’s men and closed her eyes, wiping at her lashes.
Please, let him be here soon, she prayed as she swiped away her tears.
And like the most delightful of coincidences, when Bernadine lifted the cloth and opened her eyes, there he was. Riding toward her, looking haggard and exhausted but no less handsome, was her Donnan. He was a vision, one she had longed for so keenly. Seeing him in the flesh truly was a blessing.
“Lass!” he cried, barely allowing his horse time to stop before he was jumping out of the saddle and running toward her, dodging tree stumps and rocks in his path.
Bernadine laughed as she was picked up and twirled around, her skirts flying out in a circle around her. She hugged Donnan tightly, not caring how improper it might seem to those around them. Their bodies were drawn toward each other, the embrace a foregone conclusion from the moment their eyes met across the forest.
Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her hands buried in his dark brown locks that were wet with moisture and dirt. She did not care. She had missed the feel of his hair on her fingers, the silken strands she often played with just before sleep, and she relished the sensation of it on her palms now as she caressed her hands down his head and over the soft, fine hairs of his neck.
“Och, lass,” he said into her chest, his cheek resting just over her heart. “Ye ‘ve no idea how much I’ve missed ye. Ye cannae ken.”
Donnan slowly stopped twirling her and came to a standstill, placing Bernadine gently back on the ground. Their fingers intertwined, both of them too hungry for each other’s touch to let go. Bernadine’s head was spinning, both from the twirling and from the sheer ecstasy of once again being in the arms of her love.
“I think I have a very good idea indeed how much you missed me, since I longed for you twice as much. Oh, Donnan. Thank you for coming for me. For rescuing me,” she said, sliding her hands to cup his cheeks, delighting in the warm of his skin beneath hers. She devoured the sight of him.
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“I left the castle as soon as your letter came, lass. As soon as I knew ye were in trouble. I’m only sorry it took so long,” he said, turning his head to place a soft kiss on her palm. The kiss tickled her in the most delicious way, and she wanted a thousand more, everywhere, all over her. As soon as they were alone.
“Not to break up a lovely moment,” Seamus said, clearing his throat behind them. “But time is rather of the essence, Me Laird. No doubt Nibley, will be sending someone after his daughter, so we best move as quick as we can to the next location.”
“The next location?” Bernadine asked, looking back at Seamus. “Where is that? I assumed we would leave immediately for Scotland,” she said.
“Afeared ye’ll have to ask yer Laird, lass,” Seamus said, a grin toying at his lips.
Bernadine turned back around and gave Donnan a questioning look.
His smile dropped, replaced by a nervous frown as he said, “Well, lass, I thought afore we head back to the castle that we might…” he stuttered.
“That we might what?” she asked, feeling a little impatient. She had hardly ever seen Donnan so nervous, not since he first told her of his feelings. Surely whatever he had to say now was not nearly so frightening?
“Well, lass, ye ken I want to marry ye,” he started again.
“Yes. I do…” Bernadine said, nodding for him to continue. She tried to look patient, but inside she was screaming for answers.
“And Curtis there’s a vicar,” Donnan continued, nodding to an older man standing next to Seamus. He bowed his head at Bernadine and smiled.
“How do you do?” Bernadine said to the man, smiling politely before turning back to her increasingly infuriating lover.
“So I thought…well, I thought we could get married today,” he said, hastening to add, “If yer amenable to such an idea.
“There’s a chapel nearby that’s empty, and while I ken it’s not very official, not havin’ a license and bans and all that, I confess I cannae go another day without ye as me wife. I’ll admit I dinnae fancy the idea of a weddin’ in Sassenach country nearly so well as one in my own home, but I want to protect ye, lass, and I’m best suited for doin’ that when we’re wed. A weddin’ here, afore we leave, therefore seems the most logical option. If ye agree, of course.”
Donnan was still looking nervous, glancing at Bernadine’s face as though trying to read her expression. Her heart ached at how sincere he was in his affections, worried that she might not agree with him. That she might not want to marry him! She felt the exact opposite. She didn’t care where they wed as long as he was hers. They could marry in the middle of this forest for all she cared, so long as it meant he was officially hers and she officially his.
Letting a smile spread across her cheeks, she rose onto her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on Donnan’s lips. “Of course I will marry you today, Donnan. Nothing would make me happier.”
Donnan breathed an audible sigh of relief, an abashed grin on his face as he drew her in for a quick, tight embrace. “Thank God, lass. I dinnae ken what I would do if ye had said no. I dinnae have another plan, ye ken.”
“I would never say no to an offer to spend the rest of my life with the man I love,” Bernadine said, her voice earnest and soft, only loud enough for the two of them to hear.
She was rewarded with another large grin from Donnan and was about to steal another kiss from him when Seamus cleared his throat, clearly averse to their amorous displays.
“We really must get movin’, Me Laird,” he said, avoiding eye contact with either of them as he fidgeted awkwardly.
Donnan stood up straight, releasing his arms from Bernadine’s waist. “Aye,” he said, nodding. “We’ll go now.”
Turning back to her, he asked, “Will ye ride with me, lass? I brought Iris for ye.”
Donnan turned around, and sure enough, behind him, one of his men was leading Iris to them out of the pack Bernadine had glanced at her earlier as she and Guinevere were led into the woods.
The mare’s coat shone like silver in the dappled sunlight sparkling through the leaves, and she whinnied affectionately at Bernadine when she reached out to pat her nose.
I’ve missed this, Bernadine thought as she stroked the horse, feeling the animal’s warmth breath on her fingers.
She had not saddled up since leaving Scotland. Her father would not allow her to leave the property even before he had shut her away, and, of course, when she had been confined to her chambers, the only horse rides she went on were in her daydreams. The idea of climbing into Iris’ saddle and feeling the familiar flank between her thighs, the connection between woman and horse that she would never truly have with any other animal, made Bernadine warm with excitement.
She had felt so unlike herself this past week and a half, removed from so much of what she enjoyed. Without Donnan, without horses or fresh air, she had felt like a shell of herself. But now, with her love by her side and the prospect of a good ride in the woods before her that would take her to her wedding, Bernadine felt herself expand, morphing back into someone she recognized.
The ride to the chapel did not take long. Donnan had found it earlier that morning, tucked away in the fields. It was a quaint stone structure with a small garden out front, including an old, gnarled yew tree that must have been a few centuries old.
The church itself was airy and light inside, with beautiful wide windows that led in shafts of sunlight and six deep wooden pews on either side of the short aisle.
“And you’re sure no one will notice us?” Bernadine asked Donnan as they stepped off their horses and walked toward the chapel, hand in hand.
“Nay, lass. The local vicar only uses it on Sundays, for the farmin’ folk nearby,” he said, indicating the fields visible through the windows. “Some of my men went and asked a farmer nearby, and he assured us we wouldnae be disturbed today.”
They were out of London and in an area that was made up of large fields full of roaming livestock interspersed with the occasional small farmhouse. Rays of sunlight glinted off fields of wheat, giving everything a golden hue.
Perfect for a wedding day, Bernadine thought as she admired the scenery. If only she could say the same of their circumstances. For though Bernadine was excited to marry Donnan, she could not help the creeping feeling of foreboding that rushed up her spine as she walked down the aisle, arm in arm with Guinevere.
Donnan had not told her how he had left things with her father. There had been no time to ask him; in total, they had only been reunited for perhaps twenty minutes, and much of that time had been spent thundering through forests and down badly-paved country roads, the wind so loud as it whipped through their hair and clothing that conversation was impossible.
Bernadine was therefore left to suspect that things had not been resolved as they ought to be. After all, if her father and Donnan had parted amicably, she would not have needed to escape from Harrow House. She could have walked out the front door on her own, perhaps with her father by her side, willing to give her away at the altar.
No, there was most certainly bad blood between her father and Donnan. And that meant that as wonderful as it was to be reunited with her love, to be about to marry him, Bernadine could not help but feeling that her misfortunes were not yet over. Her father would try to find her one way or another, and she could only hope he would not succeed. Else, her happiness would be short lived indeed.
Please, do not let him find me, she prayed as she came to stand across from Donnan, a hastily-gathered sprig of lavender clutched tightly in her hands. She looked at him, at his messy dark hair, his beautiful blue eyes, his strong build which hid a heart capable of so much feeling and prayed that their reunion would last.
Chapter 28
“And where exactly has he gone?” Lord Nibley thundered as he stared at the door to his study, where Donnan Young’s retreated back had just exited. He had made a paltry excuse for his exit and Lord Nibley knew there was something going on. A man that fierce wou
ld not give up so easily.
He is up to something, Hammilton knew, but he did not have the energy or interest to find out just what.
“I do not know, Jacob,” Hammilton replied, running a hand through his hair. The day had only barely begun – it was but eleven o’clock in the morning – and already he felt ready for a nap, followed by a stiff drink. Dramatics like this ought to be reserved for womenfolk, not men. It was far too taxing.
Nibley responded to his reply with a grumble, followed by a kick to the armchair he had just vacated. Nibley winced in pain but kicked the chair again, before shoving it to one side and making for his decanter of whiskey.
Never in his life had Hammilton seen his friend so agitated. Nibley seemed positively insane, unable to manage his emotions enough to carry on a normal conversation. He had lost all sense. Even his appearance had suffered. The man whose suits normally were never wrinkled looked dishevelled and unkempt, more suited for the role of a beggar than one of England’s most powerful lords.
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