Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Gwen wrapped her cloak across her chest, hugging herself as she stood on the shore, staring at a calmer sea. The spangle of stars in the night sky made her smile. The heavens were celebrating their victory. Fate decreed it safe to travel the seven miles along the coast to Workington.

She did not need a pocket watch to know it was seven o'clock. Nor did she need to turn around to know the clip of booted footsteps on the pebbles heralded Simon's approach.

He dropped his valise on the stones and slipped his arms around her waist. "Are you sure you're happy with the plans?"

She hummed as he nuzzled her neck. "I've waited five years for you. I'll not wait another second. After the way my brother has behaved, he will understand our need to do this."

"I'm not sure Lord Mowbray will. But as this was my last assignment, I don't give a damn. I'll send the report once we've reached our destination."

"Did you see Oliver?" Gwen had left a note explaining all and hoped it would suffice.

"He's drinking port with the magistrate. The coroner's jury agreed Mrs Samuel's death was accidental, though your cousin must answer for his naiveté."

"What about Myrtle?"

"Oliver will make a plea for transportation over the noose."

Gwen released the sigh she'd been holding. "Good. We can put all this behind us and focus on the future."

He drew her to face him and captured her chin. "Then, I shall ask you the same question I did two hours ago when we agreed on this plan. I love you. Marry me, Gwendolyn?"

Tears of joy sprang to her eyes. "In a heartbeat."

"You're certain you don't want a lavish wedding in London?"

"Most certain." She wanted him. Just him.

Simon claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss. His hands roamed over her body, possessing her with every scandalous caress.

They might have slipped into the cave and made love, but the glow of lantern light in the distance signalled the boat's arrival.

Lord Bancroft rowed to the shore while Miss Netherwell looked on proudly. "Ahoy there!" the lady called, sounding more chipper than she had all week.

Simon carried Gwen to the boat and loaded their luggage. "I shall row to Workington," he said when Lord Bancroft wiped beads of sweat from his brow. "As you bought the boat, it's the least I can do."

Lord Bancroft didn't argue. "We should make Workington in a few hours. From there, we'll find someone to take us to Scotland."

A gentleman at the Pheasant Inn lent them the use of his vehicle for a reasonable sum. Tired and aching, they reached the Scottish border a little after sunrise. They found rooms at Gretna Hall. Once a manor house, the now coaching inn was the perfect place for runaway aristocrats seeking to marry.

While Lord Bancroft had Miss Netherwell carry a posy of winter heather when they exchanged vows, Gwendolyn insisted on holding nothing but Simon's hands.

Like the night he had buried himself deep inside her, when he pushed the gold band onto her finger love infused every cell.

"I shall purchase something more suitable once we return to town," he whispered.

Gwen glanced at the ring he had bought from the innkeeper, tears gathering behind her eyes. "There's never been anything complicated about our love. It's pure and precious. I'll always wear the ring you gave me on our wedding day."

They kissed the moment they were declared husband and wife.

Lord Bancroft suggested they dine together.

Gwen smiled. She wasn't hungry for food. "Perhaps tomorrow. I've barely slept and would prefer to take a tray in my room."

Simon's warm hand settled on the small of her back. "We're all in need of a good night's rest." He made polite conversation before bidding the Bancrofts good night. "Come, Mrs Garrick," he said when they reached their bedchamber, "let me carry you over the threshold."

"On the subject of thresholds, we're yet to decide where we shall live." While he was her home, a piece of her heart lived at Whitney Grange.

He scooped her into his arms and entered the room, kicking the door shut behind them. "We can go anywhere in the world. Paris. Boston. I don't care where as long as I'm with you."

Gwen pursed her lips, unsure how he would react upon hearing her suggestion. "I want to make a home with you, raise a family. It will take hard work, and I'm a capable gardener."

Simon smiled. "What are you saying, love?"

"That I'd like to make Whitney Grange our home." She touched his chest. "We can make one room habitable at a time. If we need a bed, we can always sleep in the cave."

"I imagine we'll visit the cave even when the Grange is habitable," he said, his voice warm and husky.

"Yes, but tonight we get to make love in bed."

His gaze burned hot with desire. "In bed. On the floor. Against the wall. You straddling me in the chair. All the ways I've dreamed about for so damn long."

He claimed her mouth in a searing kiss. A kiss that chased away all the painful memories. They stripped each other naked, caressed each other, declared undying love.

"Your body is so hard and hot," she breathed as he entered her, filling her in one long stroke. "I've been so cold without you. I've spent so many winters feeling empty, believing you didn't want me."

"I've always wanted you." Simon withdrew, and they both moaned when he pushed inside her again and slid slowly to the hilt. "You're mine this winter and every winter to come."