03 - Dreams of Destiny

by May McGoldrick

  Her body still tingled from the way he’d touched her. No one had ever touched her like that. No one had ever kissed her the way he’d kissed her. She touched her lips, which still felt slightly swollen. She remembered how shocked she’d been to hear his voice outside the door. Actually, how thrilled she’d been.

  Of all the times that she might have run into him here in London, though, it had to be the hand of fate that had arranged their meeting tonight.

  She was eloping in the morning. She was leaving an hour after dawn in a carriage she’d hired. North of London, in Hampstead Village, Sir Allan Ardmore would join her, and from there they would travel north and marry at Gretna Green, just over the border in Scotland. It was not love, of course. She looked at David, who stirred slightly at that moment. No, it was not love nor passion nor even affection that was driving her to elope. It was just business.

  Gwyneth didn’t want to think about any of that now, however. Instead, she stared at David’s muscular arm draped over the side of the bed, the knuckles of his large hand brushing the floor. She groaned inwardly. She’d been so tempted to let him have his way with her. Ardmore had hinted that after the ceremony he expected their marriage to be consummated. During those few wild moments, lying beneath David, feeling his hands touching her, she’d considered how much more meaningful it would have been to give her innocence to the one man she had always loved—as the heroines in her stories might have done. At least she would have been left with a precious memory to carry with her for a lifetime.

  She rested her head against the window frame. Dawn would arrive soon enough. It would not be safe for her to leave the room now, for the dark streets still belonged to the ruffians and the footpads. And there was the complication of carrying her trunk, too.

  She would waiDavid was sure to sleep for hours, and she would be gone when he awoke. Perhaps he wouldn’t even remember seeing her.

  Gwyneth’s eyes drifted shut, and she soon found herself dreaming of lying in that bed with David as his hands and mouth did wicked and wonderful things to her.

  ****

  The tap on the door was light, but David heard it in his sleep. He scrambled out of bed and dashed to open the door at the same time that Gwyneth upended a bench in her rush to beat him to it. Reaching for the latch first, he glanced into her sleepy eyes. Her curls were tangled prettily and some of them fell across her face. Her dress was wrinkled. She looked soft and beautiful and young, and the thought that some rake was planning to steal her away made him suddenly mad as a bull.

  He yanked the door open.

  A boy of eleven or twelve stood in the dark hall. He immediately snatched his hat from his head, taking an unconscious step back in the face of David’s obvious fury.

  “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but I was sent to fetch a trunk fer a lady.”

  Gwyneth shouldered her way past David and smiled at the boy. “You’ve come to the right place. Thank you. ‘Tis there in the corner.”

  She actually had the nerve to put her shoulder to his chest and push him out of the way, showing the boy where the trunk sat. David’s head, which he’d left in the bed, finally caught up with his body. It felt like a smith’s anvil, in both weight and ill usage, for there was suddenly a pounding and a ringing that nearly blinded him. He forced his eyes to stay open, but the taste of bile was in his throat. He leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb for a couple of seconds as he tried to find his legs. He was sure they must be there, for he knew he was standing, but he was damned if he could feel them and he didn’t trust his balance to look down.

  He turned miserably to the room, where Gwyneth was chatting amiably with the nervous boy as he fetched her trunk. She draped her cloak around her shoulders and started for the door.

  “You should go back to bed and try to get some more rest. And I really think you should let your family know that you are back in England. They have been terribly eager to hear some news of you.”

  He rubbed a hand wearily over his face to clear his vision. The woman had lost her mind. She was talking to him like she was on her way to some Sunday service. She smiled and patted him once on his shoulder and disappeared behind the boy into the hall.

  David staggered toward the bench, somehow managed to pick up his coat and sword without tumbling out the open window, and started after her. They were on the stairs when she noticed he was following. She waited and took his elbow as he groped his way down the steps. She was helping him as if he were a bloody invalid.

  “You do not look very well. Probably I should have the proprietor secure a carriage or a sedan chair to carry you to Hanover Square.”

  The pounding in his head was getting worse, and he could barely hear her with the dozen or so hornets buzzing in his ears. It would take too much effort to let her know what he thought of her idea.

  Outside,he had to close his eyes for a moment to avoid being blinded by the gray light of day. A drizzling mist felt good on his face, though. He was dreadfully thirsty. Cracking his eyelids slightly, he peered at the boy and the trunk a few feet away. Gwyneth was exchanging a few words with a swarthy fellow across the alley. She handed him a coin, and the man went off.

  “You can wait right here,” she said, coming back across to David. “They shall bring a carriage for you from a stable just around the corner.”

  He leaned against the building, and she gave his arm a friendly squeeze.

  “Goodbye, David.”

  The closed carriage she’d hired rumbled to a stop in the lane. There was a driver and a groom handling the team of four, and David saw her walk toward it as her trunk was loaded into the boot. He started after her, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to a stable boy behind him.

  “Brought a carriage fer yer lordship. This way, sir.” He pointed in the opposite direction.

  “I need no carriage.”

  “But ‘er ladyship said—”

  “Bugger off!” David’s bark sent the boy scrambling.

  The ringing in his head was becoming nearly intolerable now, and his throat was as dry as a parson’s scalp. His stomach continued to be quite disagreeable, but as he focused on the back of her cloak disappearing into the carriage, he forced himself to lengthen his strides. He reached it just as the driver raised his whip to start off. David jerked the door open, fully expecting the scoundrel she was running away with be inside. Gwyneth was alone, and her face showed her surprise.

  “David, you are not coming with me.” She shook her head and reached out for the door.

  Without any ceremony, he pushed her back into her seat and climbed inside, slamming the door. Signaling for the driver to start, he plunked himself down wearily beside her. As the carriage lurched into motion, she immediately moved to the seat across from him.

  “I am going to Scotland. There is another carriage in front of the tavern that will take you to your brother’s house in Hanover Square.”

  “What is the name of the filthy vermin?”

  It took a few seconds for his question to register, but then her green eyes widened with alarm. Hiding it quickly, she made a show of removing her cloak and folding it deliberately before placing it on the seat next to her. “We’ll deliver you to Hanover Square first. It should not be too far out of our way.”

  She leaned toward the window to call up to the driver, but David pulled her back.

  “I am going to kill the bloody fox.” She stared at him as if he’d grown two heads. David wished he did have two heads so he could cut off the one that was pounding unmercifully right now.

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “You are eloping with some villain to Gretna Green. I am coming along. I am warning you, though, when I meet him, I shall kill him.” He closed his eyes as a blinding pain shot through his head. He was befar too chatty.

  “You’re still drunk.”

  “I wish I were.”

  “I do not appreciate your attitude, nor your temper…nor your interference. Your entire behavior is fri
ghtful.”

  “Your appreciation is the least of my concerns right now.” He stretched out his long legs, crowding her in one corner.

  “I am delivering you to Hanover Square.” She leaned toward the window again, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the seat beside him.

  “Not until a certain cowardly dog lies dead,” he growled under his breath.

  Gwyneth scrambled to the seat across again. “You must still be drunk. David, civilized people do not go around killing each other.”

  “I shall be sober by the time we get there, and—civilized or not—I intend to enjoy watching him die.”

  The carriage rattled through the narrow streets. The calls of the street vendors indicated a city coming to life, though there was still not the traffic that would soon clog these same thoroughfares in an hour or so.

  “You have lost your mind,” she said incredulously. “I could forgive you for barging into my room the way you did last night, since you were drunk. This morning, however, is an entirely different matter.”

  He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. “I need to rest before we get there.”

  “David…” She touched him on the knee, but he pretended to ignore her. “You are not a family relation. None of this is any business of yours.”

  He heard the pitch of her voice rise, and he crossed his arms and shifted to get more comfortable.

  “I cannot believe this. You are not coming with me. Do you hear me? I shall not allow you to come with me to Scotland.”

  He knew she was leaning toward the window again, and he grabbed her wrist once more. This time, he moved across, placing himself next to her and effectively trapping her with his shoulder and the side of the carriage.

  “You have become so arrogant!” She punched him hard on the shoulder. “I shall not tolerate such treatment…”

  All of her whining and even the colorful cursing that followed would have been much more amusing if it were not for the punishment he had inflicted on himself in drinking too much last night. Still, despite the thundering ache in his head and the nausea he was fighting to subdue, his attention was drawn to her intoxicating scent. There was something familiar and exciting in pressing up against her.

  He had only a vague recollection of what had happened last night, other than following the tavern keeper down the dark hallway and then finding himself tangled on the floor with Gwyneth. This was where his memory became clouded with a fog that continued to hang over him. Still though, he remembered kissing her, becoming lost in that scent. Almost in spite of himself, he felt a stirring in his loins.

  “David. Captain Pennington. Please.”

  He was fulaware of her change in tactics. Her body went soft against him. Her voice had become a whisper. He kept his eyes shut.

  “Will you at least look at me?”

  He would have ignored her if she had not trailed her finger across his cheek. Her touch had a sudden and disconcerting effect on his body. He moved in the seat and turned to look at her through partially opened eyes.

  “You are confused. I am, too, of course. I never expected to find you at my door last night. You have been away so long, and we’ve had no news of each other.” A lock of hair had escaped and she tucked the reddish gold curl behind her ear. The gesture distracted him momentarily, and he stared at the delicate curve of her ear and the soft skin beneath. He remembered kissing that very same spot. “But one thing we need to remember is that we are both rational people. And we’ve always respected each other. And I think all of our confusion this morning has something to do with lack of adequate sleep.”

  He yawned and closed his eyes.

  “I am not finished yet.” She shook him hard.

  He reluctantly pried open his eyes and looked at her again.

  “I think…I believe…once we gather ourselves together, explanations can be made and we can each go on our separate way.”

  “Are you planning to elope today?”

  She blushed. She stammered. She tried to lie, but it was obvious she couldn’t.

  “So…so what if I were?”

  “Very simply, the dog will die,” he growled, turning slightly and leaning back onto her shoulder again as he closed his eyes.

  “You are not my protector. Do you hear me?” she yelled into his ear, shaking him hard. Her temper was back. “You cannot bully your way into my life. I shall not let you. I have made plans, and I intend to carry them through.”

  Her voice was becoming too shrill for his weakened condition. He wearily straightened in the seat. “And I intend to alter those plans.”

  “But why?”

  He turned toward her until their faces were inches apart. “Because eloping indicates scandalous behavior. Because only a ruined or desperate young woman of your station in life would consider something so rash. Because I care about you and do not wish to think of you in such a situation. And because if the mangy cur who has lured you away is such a coward that he cannot approach your guardian and seek her approval properly, then, by Jove, he shall face me and pay the penalty.”

  She appeared to have a few things to say, but wisely crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in silence, staring out the window.

  “Now, Gwyneth, I need to sleep,” he said, stretching out against her again. “And I don’t want to hear another word until we get to your appointed place of rendezvous.”

  “Take me to Lady Cavers.”

  He didn’t answerto his

  “Listen, you have found me out,” she said in a thick voice. “I want you to take me back to my aunt’s house right now. I am resigned to your interference in my plans, and you may hand me over to her. She can decide what punishment she sees fit for me.”

  She sounded to be on the verge of tears, and this tugged at David’s heartstrings. What was the point of making her suffer any further? He’d stopped her from eloping. If the fortune hunter who had arranged to run away with her was thwarted, then who was he to pursue the villain?

  “I do not want the blood of anyone on my hands. Please take me back to my aunt,” she said, sniffing back the tears.

  He was in no mood to deal with hysterics. Drawing a deep breath, he called to the driver and directed him to Lady Cavers’ townhouse.

  ****

  She had her wits about her, and he didn’t.

  Gwyneth knew that David still felt ill from his party last night…and she fully intended to take advantage of that. As the carriage pulled up at her aunt’s house, she climbed out before he could move. Pretending to adjust the cloak around her, she secretly gestured to the driver to wait. She was relieved that the astute man decided not to ask any questions. David took his time climbing out after her, and she watched him raise his face to the misting rain and simply stand there for a few moments. Though he was a little pale, and his temperament resembled that of an angry boar, he did not look like a man who was suffering much from the effects of his revelry. He was as handsome as ever. She shook off such thoughts.

  “Will you at least allow me to try to explain my situation to my aunt first…alone?” she pleaded, holding on to his arm as they climbed the steps to the front door. “I promise to speak the truth to her.”

  He nodded. “But I am not leaving until I see her,” he warned.

  Gwyneth smiled weakly. “I would not expect you to. At the same time I would be quite embarrassed to have you witness Augusta chastising me for my…my indiscretion.” When they arrived at the door, she dropped her chin onto her chest and—as an added effect—wiped away a nonexistent tear. “After she is finished with me, she will certainly would want to speak to you.”

  He nodded curtly, and she was relieved to see that tears still had a strong effect on him.

  Before David could knock, the door opened.

  Gwyneth greeted the doorman, giving him no chance to express his surprise at seeing her. As far as the household knew, she had gone off to Scotland yesterday, to stay in Edinburgh before traveling to Greenbrae Hall. Ta
king David’s arm, Gwyneth glided through the entryway and hurried him up the wide stairway that encircled the high open foyer. When they reached the top of the stairs, she turned to the trailing servant.

  “Could you please escort Captain Pennington to the library?” she asked, releasing her hold on him. David’s face showed his suspicion. “I shall go speak to her immediately. It should only be a few minutes before she receives you.”

  She continued up the next flight of stairs as he disappeared into the library. Gwyneth didn’t bother to remove er cloak. Saying nothing to two upstairs maids who looked at her with surprise, she headed directly to the servant’s stairs at the back of the house.

  If anyone deserved repercussions for this elopement, it was Gwyneth herself. It had been her carelessness that had led to the troubles that she now found herself in. She was the one who had gone to Sir Allan Ardmore in the first place. The marriage of convenience had simply been his suggestion for resolving the problem. How unjust it would be for the baronet to suffer for trying to help her!

  David was in no condition, however, to hear any of her explanation…not that she could make it sound believable if he were to give her a chance anyway. Even if he were capable of understanding, though, she was determined that no one but Sir Allan would be acquainted with her secret until after she was married. Near the bottom of the back steps, she ran into one of the kitchen servants coming up.