They sat on her settee, at opposite ends. The awkwardness between them was plain, despite his declarations of love yesterday and her asking him to stay and hold her. Abbie sat ramrod straight, her hands tightly clasped on her lap. As if she was steeling herself for disappointment. Garrett would do everything in his power to ensure that did not happen.
“I love you, Abigail Wharton Hughes. From nearly the first moment that we met all those years past. It has been intense, agonizing, haunting, and heartbreaking.” He slid a little closer and, in taking her hand, laced his fingers through hers. “And I would not change or alter it but for one thing: I should have told you all this during our summer of love. It is a tragic regret I will carry the rest of my life. A youthful mistake of epic proportions. Yet the one I made while lying in my sick bed nearly equals it.” He kissed her hand and released it. “I was out of my head with fever, and having horrible nightmares of a large wolf hunting me, eager to rip my throat. I came to realize the wolf represented the curse. It is why I yelled at you, I imagine. I was trying to protect you from the wolf. The curse. After my proclamation of doing my upmost to place the curse behind me, it must have been a slice to your heart.”
Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded. “And then I departed. Again, I did not stay and fight. For all my brave talk, it turns out I’m a coward after all.”
“Perhaps it is best you returned here, for you needed time to think, as did I. A coward? No. Not in my eyes. Not ever. You came to Kent to face me. You stayed at my side when I was shot, and kept me alive through sheer courage…and love. Unfortunately, my injury has hampered me from ‘riding in and claiming you,’ but I am here, nonetheless, missing you terribly. Loving you desperately. Anxious and eager for us to share the rest of our lives.”
At his heartfelt confession, her look softened. Encouraged, Garrett moved closer to her on the settee. “As for the blasted curse, Riordan revealed a shocking revelation. Papers he found in the attic, a way for the curse to be broken. I found as he explained that I did not care how it could be broken, not anymore. All that mattered—was you. What Riordan said is true. ‘Love means taking a chance.’ I want to take that chance with you.”
Abbie’s lower lip quivered. “And when the next crisis arises, will you withdraw and push me away? For my heart cannot take it. I do not know if I am able to…to…” She sighed, her hand waving in frustration, as if she searched for the right words.
“May I finish for you?” he asked, remembering her request that he not interrupt her, for he respected Abbie far too much to do it again.
She nodded.
“Trust me?” he supplied.
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Without trust, how can there be love? But I firmly believe we can build the trust between us. Sage advice from my father: trust is something you build together with open communication. Forego blaming the other. Share your feelings. Be a reliable and steady presence.” He cupped her cheeks. “Please, allow me to prove my worth. To prove to you I am worthy of your love and your trust.” With the tips of his fingers, Garrett caressed her flushed cheeks. “You are the air that I breathe, the marrow of my bones. My very heart and soul.” His voice shook as his eyes burned. “Forgive the stubborn man, the foolish boy, and love me. Please.”
A ragged sob escaped her throat as a tear trickled down her cheek. Abbie embraced him tight, careful of his sling. He nuzzled her neck, allowing her alluring wildflower scent to fill his senses. “I will court you as you wish, do whatever it takes for you to trust me. And love me.”
“I already love you, stubborn and foolish as you were—and are. The trust will come, I know it. It has already started. No more blame. No more recriminations of the past. We will look to the future.” She kissed him hungrily, and he returned it as the heat sizzled between them as it always had. Abbie ended the kiss slowly, then gazed at him, the love shimmering in her beautiful brown eyes. “I love you, Garrett Wollstonecraft. My Scottish warrior. My dearest heart. Let us not be parted again. Ever.”
“Not ever,” he whispered.
And he meant it. His heart beat at a furious pace. He was alive. He was loved. Never again would he take any of it for granted.
Epilogue
Scotland
April 1845
Since Garrett and Abbie’s reconciliation in February, he had indeed courted her. He stayed in Standon with Abbie for three weeks. After the first week, he’d sent Jonas, Jacob, and Samuel home in the carriage and instructed Samuel to return with more clothes and other items. He’d brought her flowers and chocolate when he could procure them, and took her on carriage drives and shopping expeditions to the nearby town of Stevenage.
He’d kept his room at the inn for propriety’s sake, but on the nights Megan was away at school he was in Abbie’s bed. No doubt his attentions on Mrs. Hughes had been noted and speculated about by the villagers, but Garrett was beyond caring what others thought.
He had tried to see Aidan during his three-week stay in Standon, but his nephew had refused, though Dr. Bevan had kept him up-to-date on his progress. The gossip about Aidan made the rounds in London, and when his father and grandfather returned to parliament at the end of February, they’d refused to comment on it. All that it appeared to do was enhance Aidan’s reputation as a notorious rake. Many young ladies were anxious to make his acquaintance in hopes that they would be the one woman to tame him. His absence from London had fanned the excited flames of speculation.
March arrived, and Garrett, Abbie, and Megan made the trip from Standon to Wollstonecraft Hall. Megan was officially removed from school with the agreement that a tutor would be hired once they had completed their journey to Scotland. Abbie and Megan had stayed at the hall. Garrett decided to hell with proprieties for once and all. Late at night, he and Abbie met at the hunter’s hut, loving each other with a fierceness that never ceased to surprise him. An upcoming marriage had been implied, expected, but no solid plans were put in place. Abbie and Garrett were enjoying getting to know one another. Building the trust. Deepening the love.
Since the end of March, Abbie, Garrett, Megan, and of course, Laddie, had been traveling in Scotland. Upon their arrival, Garrett had met with his grandfather’s barrister and been told that he’d not only been willed the house outside of Edinburgh, but a share in the Mackinnon liquor business along with a generous settlement.
Then came the burial, a sad and solemn occasion, and many of his grandfather’s friends and neighbors gave tribute to an honorable man. Alec Mackinnon had been buried next to his beloved wife, and Garrett was touched his mother’s name, Moira, had been etched in remembrance on the tombstone even though she was laid to rest in the cemetery at Wollstonecraft Hall.
They had decided to stay at his grandfather’s house instead of at an inn, and Abbie suggested that he use it for yearly summer sojourns. He could not think of a better solution. Garrett would keep on his grandfather’s small but loyal staff to handle the maintenance. One night, over a hearty dinner, Megan had suggested the house be rented to people for short stays, with the proceeds going to his ‘physicians training to treat addiction cause’. His grandfather’s housekeeper had agreed wholeheartedly.
With the last week of April drawing near, they’d reluctantly decided to end their trip to Scotland with promises of returning late in the summer. As the carriage headed south, Garrett gazed out the window at the turbulent sky above. Abbie was curled up next to him, reading, and Megan sat opposite, also reading, with Laddie curled up next to her. Laddie was hardly a puppy any longer, but fit into their little family as if he had always belonged there.
Garrett clenched his fist, grateful that his arm had healed fully, and for the fact he had not lost any mobility. In the interim, he and Dr. Bastian Faraday had become good friends. They had visited him on the way to Scotland, and would again on the way home. Abbie especially had grown fond of Bastian, grateful not only for his intervention in Gar
rett’s treatment, but for his good-natured personality, innate intelligence, and gentle humor.
The carriage pulled up in front of a small inn. “Where are we?” Abbie asked while yawning.
“Gretna Green. We will stop for a meal, and allow the horses and Samuel to rest. As well as ourselves. We should stretch our legs,” Garrett replied.
Once they entered the inn, the man behind the counter called out, “Are ye here for a weddin’? For ye are a lad and lassie in love, I’ll be bound. ’Tis plain. The smithy next door ’tis the best place for a genuine anvil weddin’.” The ruddy-faced man smiled broadly.
Garrett faced Abbie, taking her hand and kissing it. “Marry me, my love?”
Her eyes widened. “Here, in Scotland? Can we? Should we?”
He kissed her hand again, then caught her gaze, giving her a smoldering look. “Absolutely.”
Megan clasped her hands together excitedly. “Oh, yes, Mama. How romantic!”
Abbie laughed. “Then yes, I will marry you.”
They hurried next door to the blacksmith shop. A wedding was just concluding. As the young couple left the building, the smithy waved them forward. How impulsive to marry like this, but it stayed within the parameters of their turbulent and passionate relationship.
After introductions, the brawny smithy, Mr. Campbell, nodded with approval. “So ye wish ta wed? We need two witnesses.”
“Our daughter, Megan, will act as one. My coachman and assistant groom will serve as well,” Garrett replied. “Megan, be a dear and fetch Samuel.” Laddie woofed, making his presence known. “And unofficially, Laddie will act as one.”
As Megan hurried away, Mr. Campbell’s heavy eyebrows raised at the “our daughter” statement, but wisely let it pass. “A Scotch collie is always welcome at any of my weddin’s. Do ye have a ring?” Garrett shook his head. “Ye can purchase one here.” He slapped a wooden box on the table and opened it. There were a number of plain gold bands along with more antiquated designs.
“Oh, I like this one,” Abbie said, pointing to a gold ring fashioned into a key unlocking a heart.
“’Tis a luverly choice. Made of the finest gold. Now, stand before the anvil. Ah, here be the witnesses.” Mr. Campbell fussily arranged them in a semi-circle. “’Tis too bloody bad the heather ’tisn’t bloomin’ as yet, begging yer pardon, ladies.” Mr. Campbell blushed at his curse. “But these posies ’twill do.” Mr. Campbell handed Abbie a bouquet of bluebells and white wood anemones, early spring wildflowers they had seen in abundance during their travels. Abbie’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “There now. Are ye unmarried persons?” Mr. Campbell asked, his tone serious.
“Yes,” they answered simultaneously.
“Do ye take this man to be yer husband?” Mr. Campbell intoned.
Abbie’s gaze softened. “I do. Most happily.”
“Do ye take this woman to be yer wife?”
“I do. Most gratefully.”
“I like ye both.” Mr. Campbell beamed. “Now place the ring on her finger.”
As Garrett did, Mr. Campbell picked up a length of gold ribbon and loosely tied it about their wrists. “I hereby declare ye are married and joined in God. ’Twill be twenty-two pounds all total. For the ring, posies, and certificate.”
Garrett and Abbie laughed. “Well worth it, my good man. And the certificate?” Garrett asked.
“’Twill be drawn up directly. Ye can fetch it after ye consummate the marriage, begging yer pardon, young lassie,” he bowed slightly at Megan who smiled in response.
“We will be taking a meal at the inn, then will obtain the certificate before we continue on our journey. I imagine we will be about an hour,” Garrett replied.
Mr. Campbell frowned. “Ye shouldn’t remove the ribbon ’til the union ’tis consummated, as it ’twill bring a curse upon ye…”
Garrett and Abbie groaned as Megan giggled.
Kissing Abbie’s hand, Garrett stated, “I no longer hold much weight in curses. I only believe in never-ending love. But rest assured we will follow your suggestion as best as we are able.” Garrett managed to reach in his pocket and pull out a small roll of pound notes. “Keep the change, my good man.” He turned to Abbie and said softly, “We are married, my love.” He kissed her deeply as Megan and Samuel applauded and Laddie woofed happily.
For most of the journey, they had kept the ribbon on except when taking a meal or using the necessary. Once checked into their room at the inn, it was difficult to remove their clothing with their wrists bound. They managed it, laughing as they did. Garrett and Abbie tumbled to the bed, and he raised their joined wrists above their heads as he thrust into her. Abbie moaned, clutching his rear with her free hand. “Stay inside me. No more American rubber contraptions or withdrawal. I want to feel all of you.”
“I will make proper, languorous love to you later, but for now, I need this.” Garrett pumped in and out of her, moving faster as his passion built. The crescendo hit them both at nearly the same instant. Married. Abbie was truly his. Forever. Breathing hard, he removed the ribbon and pulled her into his arms. “It may not have been a society wedding, but I would not change it for the world.”
Abbie lay across his chest, and playfully nibbled on his lower lip. “Neither would I.” She then gazed into his eyes. “I love the way that you are looking at me. You had the exact expression on your face years ago, the one evening we’d met in the shed.”
“In what way?” Garrett asked, kissing the tip of her nose.
“As if there was no one in the entire world but the two of us. It was as if you wanted nothing else but to possess me.” Abbie paused, and sadness glittered in her eyes. “You savored the love and desire, then, the look was gone. As if you had placed the emotions in a dusty attic. To be forgotten.”
“It is true what you say. For a brief moment, I knew that it was love. Then I immediately dismissed it and refused to acknowledge it. And we have suffered for it ever since.”
“We will suffer no more, my dearest,” Abbie whispered. They kissed, and when they broke apart, Abbie curled up in his arms.
After many minutes passed, Garrett said, “I believe we will have a proper winter wedding. Remember? The one you’d spoke of all those years ago. The one you longed for.”
“Oh, I do remember. How surprising to find you recall it.”
“I recall everything that you’ve ever said to me.” Garrett caressed her arm as he spoke. “Every kiss. Every touch. Every time we joined as one.” Abbie’s eyes glistened with emotion at his words. “A small ceremony at Wollstonecraft Hall, you wearing a white cape with silk snowflakes…” Abbie kissed him fiercely. Already he was becoming aroused again. It would be a long, passionate night.
Abbie ended the kiss, then held up the gold ribbon. “At least we will manage to keep the curse from our door.” He smiled in response. “Speaking of curses, I meant to ask, what did Riordan discover about breaking the Wollstonecraft curse?”
“When he was a young lad, he’d discovered ancient papers belonging to the sixteenth century Earl of Carnstone. The man sought out a Scottish sorceress and begged her to break the curse. Her response was that it could only be broken when all the men living formed a love bond within a lunar year, any twelve-month period, I imagine.”
“How fascinating. So, you and Riordan have found love, and if your father and brother accept their growing feelings toward Alberta and Mary Tuttle, that would leave…”
“Aidan.”
Both remained quiet for several moments, lost in their thoughts.
“I believe Cristyn Bevan has feelings for Aidan,” Abbie stated.
“Truly? What makes you believe that?”
“I’ve observed their interactions, before leaving Standon in January, and again recently.” Abbie played with his chest hair, twirling it about the tip of her finger as she spoke. “I’ve never seen Cristyn
give such focused attention to any other patient before. But it was more the way she spoke to him, gazed longingly at him. It’s hard to describe. I thought when I first met Bastian that Cristyn would be a good match for him, considering their mutual interest in the medical field.” She shrugged. “Fate has other plans, for I caught Aidan staring at Cristyn with a stark yearning. Perhaps nothing will come of it.”
Fascinating. Could Aidan find it deep within himself to forego his vices and disreputable past and accept love? It remained to be seen.
However, his and Abbie’s story was not over, nor was it for the rest of the men of Wollstonecraft Hall. Garrett had his soul mate, the lady of his heart. Hell, he always had her, though he’d stupidly denied it for years. All because of the curse. Well, curse be damned.
Now if only the remaining men of his family could embrace love. As he pulled Abbie closer, he silently wished for all of them to find love and discover true happiness.
If anyone deserved and needed to be loved, it was Aidan.
Author’s Note
Obviously the Wollstonecraft men are fictitious, but the progressive causes they supported were not. The 1840s were the beginning of many changes for the decades that followed: reforms to improve the quality of life for all, especially for women, children, and the poor.
As for addiction, it was the generally accepted opinion during the Victorian era that it was merely a bad habit or a moral flaw, not a disease. Treatment was nonexistent, and since drugs like opium were legal, not considered a crime. The treatment that I describe in this story did not come into use until the early twentieth century, after World War I.
In Great Britain, it wasn’t until the Pharmacy Act of 1868 that it was finally acknowledged that these drugs were dangerous and needed to be dispensed by qualified pharmacists and druggists. Opium addiction, and deaths therefrom, declined immediately, but it wasn’t until the Rolleston Act of 1926 that the dispensing of opium and its derivates was placed in the hands of medical doctors.
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