Sally MacKenzie Bundle

by Sally MacKenzie

  I love you, even though I cannot do your will in this regard.

  Grace

  There. Grace sanded the letter and stood it up against her pillow where the maid would find it when she came in to wake her. It had been another long, sleepless night, but finally she felt at peace. She’d made her decision. She was leaving. Now, before the sun was up. If she left when it was still dark, no one would see her.

  All she had to do was get to The Blue Heron. She had enough pin money left to buy a seat on the stagecoach to London. It wouldn’t be a comfortable trip, but she would manage. She would go to Aunt Kate…if Aunt Kate were in London.

  Surely she would be. Though the Weasel must still be at Oxbury House…

  But Lord Motton’s house party was over; everyone must have returned to Town. And if Aunt Kate wasn’t in London, Lady Wordham would be. Grace would find someone to help her.

  She had no choice. She couldn’t marry John. He deserved a woman who would love him with her whole heart, but Papa seemed incapable of understanding that. She wouldn’t put it past him to tie her up and throw her in the carriage to get her to the church. Then her only recourse would be to refuse to say her vows, and she couldn’t do that to John and his family. No, she had to go now.

  She put all the money she had as well as her few small pieces of jewelry—to be pawned in only the most desperate circumstances—into her reticule and stuffed it into the pocket of her cloak. Then she blew out the candles and opened the window. There was enough moonlight to see the branch of the big oak tree that grew by her room—and the long way down to the ground.

  She hadn’t climbed a tree in years. The worst part was getting out her window, leaving the safe, solid building to swing over to a shaky, swaying branch. Then it was a matter of inching her way carefully backward, feeling for solid footing, untangling her skirts from branches, pushing her hair out of her eyes as the tree plucked her pins out. Thankfully there was no one to observe her awkward escape.

  She leaned against the tree trunk for a moment when her feet finally touched the ground and blew out a long breath of relief—as well as a short prayer of thanksgiving. She’d made it safely to earth without killing herself, though she was rather a mess. She picked a few twigs out of her hair and then twisted it into a knot at the back of her neck, marshalling her remaining pins to restrain it as best she could. Next time she had to escape down a tree, she would be sure to add extra hair pins to the contents of her reticule.

  A cloud drifted over the moon, plunging her into darkness. Thank God that hadn’t happened a few moments earlier.

  She waited for her eyes to adjust, and then started carefully across the lawn. With luck no one would look for her until long after she was gone.

  She stumbled in a rabbit hole and almost fell. Damn it! She couldn’t risk turning an ankle.

  She slowed her pace. Once she reached the road, the ground would level out and she’d be able to move faster, but for now it paid to be cautious. She would not worry—even at this rate she should reach The Blue Heron in an hour or two, well before the stagecoach pulled in. And then she would leave Standen—her home—for good.

  She sniffed. Blast. She couldn’t cry. Papa truly had left her no choice.

  She concentrated on picking her way across the lawn.

  The sun wasn’t up yet, but he was.

  David sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his face. Enough tossing and turning. He’d go out for a ride, clear the cobwebs from his brain and the cricks from his back. Maybe he’d head toward Standen just to get the lay of the land.

  He met Reverend Barnsley in the corridor. They walked together down the stairs.

  “Up early, Lord Dawson?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. And you? Did you also find your bed a touch lumpy?”

  “No, slept like a rock. I’m out to commune with God’s creation—and see if the fish are biting. I left my gear outside—just ran back to get my prayer book.” He grinned. “Forgot it at first.”

  “Ah. Good fishing hereabouts?”

  “Indeed. I had the great fortune to strike up a conversation with the innkeeper after you went upstairs last night. He said there’s a smashing fishing hole within walking distance. Care to join me?”

  David needed to move, not sit. “No, thanks. I’m off for a short ride.”

  They stepped outside. There was Barnsley’s pole, leaning against the wall. The reverend nodded and picked up his gear. “Enjoy your ride,” he said and strolled off toward a line of trees.

  David headed for the stables. It was cool and damp, with a touch of mist lingering on the ground. He drew in a deep breath. He felt better already.

  “Morning, milord.” The stable boy jumped up from the pile of hay he’d been lounging on. “I’ll be getting yer horse—”

  “No, thanks. I’ll saddle him myself.”

  “As ye wish, milord.”

  Zeus nickered a welcome. He seemed eager to get out and stretch his legs. As soon as they reached the road, David gave him his head. They thundered over the ground, the damp wind blowing some of the dark cloud from his soul. He wasn’t hopeful, but he felt less blue-deviled.

  He saw a figure trudging toward him—a figure in skirts. The woman looked up—she must have heard Zeus’s hoof beats—and then dashed off into the trees.

  Odd. Did she need to answer a sudden call of nature? He would give her her privacy. He rode past at a gallop…and slowed.

  It was early and somewhat dark. She was a woman alone. It was unlikely she was in any danger, but one never knew what riffraff might be lurking in the woods.

  He looked back. She was walking again, moving like someone who needed to be somewhere quickly. Surely he could help her. He turned and started to gallop toward her.

  She glanced over her shoulder—and darted back into the trees.

  What the hell? He slowed. Was she afraid of him? She couldn’t be—at least, she couldn’t be afraid of him personally. No one but Grace would recognize him in this part of England—and, in any event, he’d never had a woman fear him. Was someone—some man—tracking this poor girl? She must think herself in danger to hide at the first sign of a fellow traveler.

  He urged Zeus forward, peering into the trees as he approached the place where she had disappeared.

  “Madam,” he called out. “Please don’t be alarmed. I would like to help you, if I may.”

  He saw movement a little farther ahead. He kept Zeus to a walk, staying on the road.

  “I promise I won’t harm you. I’m Baron Dawson of Riverview. Please tell me how I might assist you.”

  Had he heard a gasp?

  The girl peered from behind a tree and then stepped out of the foliage. She was tall and…familiar.

  “David? David, is that really you?”

  “Grace!” He swung off Zeus’s back.

  She ran toward him and he opened his arms. He took her lush body against his, holding her tightly while he kissed her.

  Her mouth was wet and hot and wonderful. Her breasts were so soft against his chest—she must not be wearing a corset. It would take only a moment to have this cloak off her, and just a moment more for her dress to follow. And then his shirt and breeches…

  Was he dreaming? If he was, he never wanted to waken.

  He moved from her mouth to her cheek.

  “Oh, David, I’m so glad to see you.”

  This dream just got better and better. “And I’m very, very glad to see you, Grace.” He lifted her silky, long hair to nuzzle her neck.

  “Oh, please…”

  He kissed a spot right under her ear and started moving down her neck.

  “…please stop.”

  What? He raised his head. This couldn’t be his dream. He would never have Grace telling him to stop. This was either a nightmare or it was actually happening.

  “You want me to stop?”

  “Yes. You must.” She looked up at him, but kept her lovely, soft body exactly where he wanted it—plastered against his. He ran
his hands down her back and pulled her wonderful derriere closer. She didn’t resist at all.

  “Why?”

  “I must get to The Blue Heron. I am running away from home.”

  “Oh.” A horrible thought struck him. “You haven’t married the neighbor, have you?”

  “No.” She rested her head against his chest. “I couldn’t do it, David. But I’m supposed to marry John this morning. That’s why I’m running away. Papa refused to see reason. He’ll force me down the aisle if I don’t escape. I have to make it to the inn in time to get a seat on the London stagecoach.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do. You don’t know Papa.”

  “Well, he can’t force you to marry this neighbor if you’re already married to me, can he?”

  “What?” Grace gaped up at him so deliciously he had to kiss her again—and run his hands over her enticing body as well.

  “Marry me. Please, Grace? You truly would make me the happiest of men. I came all this way in the hopes of persuading you.”

  “But—”

  “I tried not to come, even though Alex and your aunt and my grandmother—even Miss Smyth—urged me to do so. I was intending to return to London. But they all assured me you loved me—and I finally realized you’d never said you didn’t.”

  “Ah.”

  It was a small point, perhaps, but it was enough to have given him courage. He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. He wanted her to see the truth of what he was saying.

  “I love you, Grace. I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt. And I will never get over this love. If you won’t have me, my life will go on; I might even marry someday, but I will never stop loving you. Just as Alex never stopped loving your aunt.”

  “And Papa never stopped loving your mother.” She was crying a little and smiling—and still leaning against him. That must be a good sign.

  “I have a special license. I got it before we left for Motton’s house party. And there just so happens to be a minister at The Blue Heron who will, I’m sure, be delighted to marry us, and a very nice couple who I’m equally certain would be willing to act as our witnesses. We can be married within the hour—within the half hour.” And in bed moments later, but he wouldn’t say that. No need to push his luck.

  “Well…”

  “Please, Grace? I love you to distraction.” And he was especially distracted at the moment by her scent and her taste and the heavenly feel of her curves against his chest and his hips and his—

  Good God, he was panting. He took a deep breath—which only pushed his body tighter against hers. “I would love to spend my life loving you, Grace. Please say you’ll marry me.”

  “Oh, David.” She was crying more than smiling now. “I do love you so much. I was miserable as soon as the carriage pulled away from Viscount Motton’s estate, and I’ve been miserable every day—every hour, every minute—since. I was foolish and wrong when I left you. I love my father, but you are my life, my future. Of course, I will marry you.”

  “Huzzah!” He picked her up and twirled her around. He had never, ever been so happy. “Then let’s go find Reverend Barnsley and the Weyfords.” He took her hand and pulled her over to Zeus. She stopped suddenly.

  “I can’t ride with you! Your poor horse will collapse under our weight.”

  “No, he won’t, will you, Zeus, old man?”

  Zeus snorted and shook his head. Grace laughed.

  “See?” David said. “Zeus thinks you are being ridiculous, and I agree. Come on.” He grabbed Grace around the waist and lifted her onto Zeus’s back; then he swung up to sit behind her, wrapping his arms around her to hold her securely. If he enjoyed the feel of her curves…well, it was all in the name of safety.

  Grace settled back into David’s arms. She was finally where she belonged—where she most wanted to be.

  The walk from Standen had been nerve-wracking. It had been so dark. She’d tripped over every rock and root and jumped at every animal call, every rustle in the bushes. The back of her neck was stiff from worry—she’d been terrified someone would come after her and take her back to Standen. And the thought of traveling alone all the way to London…Well, she was very glad she wouldn’t have to endure that experience.

  She tensed. She wasn’t safe yet. The moment Papa discovered her missing, he would turn the house upside down and scour the countryside looking for her. If he found her with David, there was no telling what he would do. And when they got to The Blue Heron…

  “David, Mr. Timms, the innkeeper, thinks I’m marrying John this morning. If he sees me, he’ll wonder…”

  “Don’t worry. I think we can avoid Mr. Timms.”

  She saw The Blue Heron ahead of them now. David turned, taking them into the trees a short distance from the inn. He dismounted and helped her down.

  “Stay here while I put Zeus back in the stable and find the Weyfords.”

  She watched him lead his horse away. There was no good place for a woman her size to hide. What would she do if a servant came by? Most, if not all, of the people who worked at the inn would recognize her. She could crouch in that thicket perhaps—

  “Grace—”

  “Eek-ahem.” She tried to turn her squeak into a cough.

  David raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Grace, this is Mr. and Mrs. Weyford from Kent. They are on an extended wedding trip. Mr. and Mrs. Weyford, my very-soon-to-be bride, Lady Grace Belmont.”

  “How nice to meet you, Lady Grace.” Mr. Weyford bowed.

  “And how romantic—a wedding in the woods.” Mrs. Weyford smiled.

  David put Grace’s hand on his arm. “Let us hope Reverend Barnsley will consent to take a break from his sport to perform the ceremony.”

  Reverend Barnsley—at least, that’s who Grace assumed the man standing on the riverbank holding a large fish was—grinned at them as they approached.

  “Will you look at this beauty?” he said, holding the fish higher. “It must be close to a foot long, don’t you think?”

  “At least a foot,” David said. “Reverend, may I present my fiancée, Lady Grace Belmont?”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Grace.” Reverend Barnsley transferred his fish to his left hand before taking Grace’s fingers in his right.

  “And you, Reverend Barnsley.” She tried to keep smiling. If the man would perform the wedding ceremony, she couldn’t cavil over a bit of piscine odor. “That’s a very fine fish you have there.”

  “A trout, Lady Grace. A very fine trout.”

  “Indeed.” She looked at David. The annoying man was struggling not to laugh.

  “I say, that is a fine trout, Reverend.” Mr. Weyford stepped closer to examine the catch. “What are you using for bait?”

  Before Reverend Barnsley could launch into a dissertation, David cleared his throat. “Reverend, if I might interrupt, I was hoping you could do me a small favor.”

  “A favor? Of course, Lord Dawson. How can I help?”

  David pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket. “I have a special license here, and Mr. and Mrs. Weyford have agreed to act as witnesses. Lady Grace and I would like you to marry us.”

  Reverend Barnsley examined the paper. “It seems to be in order.” He looked up and smiled. “I’d be happy to officiate. Where and when did you wish to marry?”

  “Here and now,” David said.

  Reverend Barnsley’s eyebrows shot up. “By the trout pool?”

  “Can you think of a better spot?” David asked.

  Grace looked at the grass, the trees, the water. It was a beautiful place for a wedding.

  Reverend Barnsley grinned. “No, by Jove, I can’t. Here, Weyford, if you would be so kind?” The minister handed Mr. Weyford his trout to hold, then bent to pick up his prayer book.

  Chapter 21

  “What a stroke of good luck that the Weyfords are trout-mad, too.” David hauled Grace across the lawn to the inn.

  “Why?” Grace dug in her heels.
“Will you slow down? What is the rush?”

  He stopped and grinned down at her. She was flushed and her wonderful bosom was heaving. In just a few moments, he would see every inch of that lovely, large…

  Something else was growing painfully large.

  “Because I should probably buy breakfast for everyone to celebrate our marriage, but I am very—very—anxious to celebrate in an entirely different, extremely private manner, if you get my meaning.” He brushed her breast to help her comprehend.

  “Oh.” Her color deepened to bright red. “Is it…I mean, do we have to…so soon? It’s daylight. I thought that…activity was something one did at night.”

  “Oh, no, I assure you, it can be accomplished at any time or place.” He felt absurdly cheerful. “Even here, now.”

  “What!?” Grace’s voice actually squeaked. “Outside?” She looked around rather wildly. “Here?”

  “Well, yes, though I personally don’t like the public nature of this specific location. But it is certainly physically possible. Still, I think a bed and a locked door would be better for your first time, don’t you think?”

  “Ah. Er. Um.”

  Obviously, Grace was too overcome to express her opinion.

  “And I did think it best, given our situation, that we consummate our marriage promptly. It makes it so much more…final, don’t you think, if your father should happen to stop by the inn looking for you? I assume we have not passed the time when your wedding to Parker-Roth was to take place?”

  “Oh. Yes. You’re right.” Grace darted a glance toward the road, then grabbed his hand and started almost running toward the inn.

  He did like an eager bride.

  Grace felt her heart pounding just like it had when she’d first launched herself out her bedroom window. It must be too late for Papa to make her marry John. She was already married. But David was right. Best to be very married.

  She pulled the hood of her cloak low so it shaded her face as they got closer to the inn. She would prefer the servants not recognize her sneaking up the back stairs into a man’s room.