Sara burst out laughing. “That you are not, sir. But you are most certainly worth the effort.”
“Oh, my Nymph,” Nathan said, lowering his mouth to hers again in another searing kiss. They broke apart when the coachman gave a not-so-little cough.
“My trunks are already packed,” Sara said breathlessly, her eyes riveted on his lips. “I can leave immediately.”
“I have yet to pack,” he replied, his hand running through her hair. “I hadn’t planned beyond arriving at the church to stop your wedding.”
“You were coming for me?” Her voice wavered with hope and love.
Nathan nodded. “I couldn’t stay away. I tried to, but there was no chance on earth I could let you marry another.”
“Well, you would have been too late!” she said, hands on her hips. “If I hadn’t left, I would be Mrs. Charles Pomeroy now, you horrid man.”
He grabbed her hand and kissed the palm. “But you are not. You are mine. And I would have gone to Scotland without marrying you.”
Her gray eyes deepened with desire and her mouth parted slightly. “Shall I help you pack?” she whispered.
Nathan smiled and shook his head. “We won’t pack. Not right away.”
Sara smiled back. “I know.”
He led her back to the carriage, her hand firmly in his. Knowing that he would forever be able to hold her hand and never let her go sent shots of joy through his being. He felt lighter than he could ever remember being.
She tugged him to a stop. “There is something I always wished to do.”
“What is it?”
“Race down the lane!” She dropped his hand and took off at a face pace, holding her skirts up to her knees so she wouldn’t trip. Her legs moved furiously, kicking up small clouds of dust behind her.
She looked back over her shoulder at him, a large grin on her face and her laughter carried on the breeze. Nathan grinned back, unsure if she was able to see it. His leg would crucify him tomorrow, but it would be worth it. Especially if a luscious redhead was there to help him with hot compresses and massages.
He tied his horse to the back of the carriage, giving it an affectionate pat on the rump. With a nod to Rogers, who was wearing a knowing grin, Nathan took a deep breath and ran after his woman.
Sara gripped Nathan’s hand tightly as they entered Ridgestone. They had come for her trunks, his already latched to his traveling coach. She refused to sneak in like a thief through the servants’ entrance, knowing that it would hurt her friends even more than her disappearance if they found out.
But it didn’t make it easier to face them.
Greaves was at the door, watching their approach. She gave him a small smile. “Good afternoon, Greaves.”
“Miss Collins,” he intoned with a bow. If he had any opinion on her aborted wedding or the man standing next to her, he did not let it show.
“Are they all here?” she asked, trying to keep the trepidation from her voice. Fear would not do, not with her new life.
“Mr. and Mrs. Knightly are in the drawing room along with Sir Stephen and Lady Montgomery.”
“Thank you.”
Nathan squeezed her hand but didn’t release it as they walked up the stairs and down the hall. The carpet muffled the sound of his cane; she wouldn’t have been able to hear it over the pounding of her heart anyway. She paused at the door, staring at the dark wood of the door before looking at him. When he gave her an encouraging nod, she pushed open the door and stepped in.
“. . . find her before night falls.”
Claire was sitting next to her husband, their hands clasped together tightly. Bonnie was pacing in front of the cold hearth, her swollen stomach leading the rest of her body, clearly agitated. Sir Stephen was standing nearby, his face filled with concern as he watched his wife closely.
Bonnie continued speaking. “Stephen, you must question the servants to see if any of them know something. The servants always know something.”
“I don’t understand what happened.” Claire shook her head, disbelief tingeing her voice. “Where could she have gone? It’s been hours.”
Jacob patted her hand. “Sara is not prone to fits of foolishness. I am sure she is fine.”