Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [175]
Riding through town, Elisabeth noted many a curious glance. Her neighbors had often seen her on Belda but not in a gown adorned with buttons and ruffles. If she did marry—Nae! Not if, Lord, but when—the gossips of Selkirk would blether about it for months. A small price to pay for the blessing of being a good man’s wife.
Elisabeth guided Belda through the East Port, then down to the bridge across the Ettrick, before turning north toward Edinburgh, toward Jack. She rode one mile, then two, passing only the occasional rider, until she eventually reached the gates of Tweedsford. Odd to see the place again. Though not a soul was in sight, Mr. Laidlaw and the other servants were assuredly within.
The sky was grayer now and the sun lower. Hurry, Jack. This was the only road to the north; he had to come this way.
Belda pawed at the ground, clearly wanting to continue. “We must wait here,” Elisabeth said in a firm voice. Beyond Tweedsford the road grew more winding, with lonely stretches between properties. As it was, Jack might not be pleased to find her abroad unescorted.
I do not approve. Was that Marjory’s voice, or was it Jack’s?
Elisabeth looked through the open gates, wondering if she dared seek shelter at Tweedsford should rain or nightfall come before Jack appeared. Nae. Though General Lord Mark Kerr was not in residence at the moment, she could not look to his servants for help.
She started forward, then turned back, started forward, then turned back, frustrating Belda and herself in the process. Should she ride home? Ride to Bell Hill? Now that she’d come this far, she longed to greet him on her own, without the others present, however much she loved them. She imagined waving to Jack from a distance, catching him by surprise, welcoming him home with a kiss.
Aye, she would wait a bit longer.
Though the rain did not come, the gloaming finally did. Each time she heard hoofbeats on the hard dirt road, her head and heart lifted with anticipation. When instead a stranger trotted by with a tip of his hat, she offered a faint smile, relieved when he moved on.
Are you certain ’tis wise to go alone? Marjory’s voice again.
Elisabeth knew the answer now.
In the fading light Belda whinnied at the sound of another rider approaching. More than one, judging by the hoofbeats. Elisabeth eased a bit farther down the road, moistening her lips, trying to swallow. She could not see them round the bend in the road, but she heard voices. Male voices.
Mustering her courage, she called out into the dusky air, “Lord Buchanan?”
Seventy-Eight
Thou bringest the sailor to his wife.
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON
ess? Nae, it couldn’t be her. Not on this road and not at this hour.
When he heard his name called again, all doubt was erased.
Jack spurred Janvier forward, with Dickson riding close behind. A moment later they came round the curve and found Elisabeth waiting by the gates of Tweedsford as if a gentlewoman riding alone at twilight was of no concern.
He quickly brought Janvier to a halt beside Belda, then reached for Elisabeth’s hand. His own was shaking. With frustration, with relief, with joy. “Beloved, whatever are you doing here?”
“Welcoming you home.” When her gaze met his, nothing else mattered.
He could not kiss her as he wished, but he kissed her nonetheless, bending forward across the saddle, fitting his mouth to hers.
“I’ll be going on, milord.” Dickson trotted past him. “Shall I have the household prepared to greet their master?”
“Aye.” Jack lifted his head only slightly. “And their future mistress.”
Elisabeth’s eyes widened. “Do you mean …”
“I do.” He kissed her again, taking his time.
“Very good, milord,” Dickson called over his shoulder, riding off.
A sudden drop of rain splattering on the back of his neck brought their tender reunion to an end. “Follow me,” Jack told her, aiming for the leafy shelter of a maple tree inside the gates of Tweedsford as more drops began to fall.
Once they were well beneath the branches, Jack dismounted, then lifted