The train jerked once and then began to creep out of the station. Six years had dragged by between Cameron’s first encounter with Ainsley and this one, and . . . Damn it all to hell, I can’t wait another six years.
Cameron got to his feet, ready to haul open the door and leap down. He’d go back to Balmoral, fetch Ainsley, and to hell with it.
The door to the corridor swung open, and the conductor stepped out of the way to let someone pass. “Is this it, ma’am?”
“Yes, thank you.” Ainsley spoke in a breathless voice, dropped a tip into the man’s hand, and breezed into the carriage. “You’ll see to my luggage, won’t you? I’m afraid there is rather a lot of it.”
The conductor, looking smitten, touched his hat, and said, “Right away, ma’am.”
He backed out and slammed the door. Ainsley drew the shades down over the corridor-facing windows, plucked off her gloves, and dropped into a seat.
Cameron remained standing as the train glided into the night. Ainsley looked fresh and bright, despite her hurry, different somehow. He realized after a moment that she wore vibrant blue instead of her usual gray or black, one of the ensembles Isabella had purchased for her in Edinburgh. Though her bodice was still buttoned to her chin, the fabric hugged her like a second skin, and her matching hat and veil turned her gray eyes almost silver.
“I’m sorry I nearly missed the train,” she said. “I had to rush from Edinburgh, because the clothes Isabella ordered for me were ready, and they take up three trunks, which all had to be packed at the last minute. Isabella and Mac kindly gave me use of the townhouse they lease there, so I’m afraid they know I’ve run off with you. Mac was rather pleased about it.”
“He would be.” Mac’s method of persuading a woman to stay with him was to abduct her and make her think it was her own idea.
“I assume we’ll make a stop in London?” Ainsley asked. “I can’t imagine you’d run straight through to Paris tonight, would you? If I could find a room at a respectable hotel, I can sort through my things and decide what I truly need to take. Isabella thought the lot, but I think she is optimistic.”
Cameron unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “We’ll stop in London,” he said, his voice gruff. “Not at a hotel. In Hart’s house; he keeps it ready. In the morning, we’ll marry.”
Chapter 19
“Marry?” Ainsley felt suddenly light, floating, unreal. But no, Cameron was standing solidly above her, announcing that tomorrow he would marry her.
“Vows exchanged, a license,” he said. “You’ll have heard of it.”
His eyes held anger and also something Ainsley didn’t understand. “But I’m running away with you.”
Cameron hauled her off the seat and sat down again with her firmly on his lap. “Are you mad, woman? You were right to turn me down. I’ll not let you destroy your life for the likes of me.”
Ainsley looked into his hard face and realized that what she saw in his eyes was fear. Not the nerves of a man contemplating matrimony, but stark panic.
“I won’t promise to be a model husband,” Cameron said. “Home at six for tea and the like. I work the horses all day during racing season and stay out all night in the off season. I drink, I play cards, and my friends are not respectable. I’d treat you like a mistress, a lover, because I sure as hell don’t know how to treat a woman like a wife. If that’s not what you want, tell me now and go back to your queen.”
His voice grated, a man saying things he didn’t know how to say.
Ainsley made herself laugh. “Do you know, I once thought that if you proposed to a woman it would be wildly romantic, perhaps in a boat on a crystal blue lake. You’d sweep the lady off her feet—or maybe off her oar—and have her swooning with delight.”
“I’m not romantic, Ainsley. I just want you with me.”
His words rippled fire through her, warm against the September cold. “Are you saying that you want us to behave as lovers but marry to save the scandal?”
“This way, if you tire of me, you won’t have to risk your brother refusing to house you. You’ll always have money and a place to live as my wife. I’ll provide for you no matter what you think of me.”
She blinked. “Goodness, you’re ending the marriage before it’s begun.”
“I was a rotten husband before, and I can’t promise I won’t be a rotten one this time. If you don’t want this, you can leave the train at the next stop.”
They were picking up speed, racing through the darkness.
“All my trunks are on the train,” Ainsley said. “So I have to marry you or risk you chucking out my new wardrobe.”
Again she saw the flare of panic, which he masked with anger. “The minute you don’t want to live with me, you tell me. Understand? No divorce, no separation, no bloody rows. You tell me, and I give you a house to live in and money to do whatever you want.”
“I will bear it in mind.”
Cameron growled. He slid his strong hand behind her neck and pressed an openmouthed kiss to her lips.
Warmth, delight, strength. Ainsley wrapped her arms around him and gave in. Deciding to go through with running off with him had been the most difficult choice she’d ever made. But she’d known in the end that if she didn’t go, she’d regret it forever. Fate had given her a chance, and she’d realized that she couldn’t turn her back on that chance. Or on Cameron.
Changing the decision into one of marrying him was ridiculously easy. She belonged to this man—she was eloping with him. She could do anything she wanted with him.
Ainsley leaned back, encouraging him down with her, and he ended up on top of her on the seat. His weight on hers made her heart hammer with excitement. Ainsley dared stroke his back down to his hips to cup his tight backside under the plaid.
The door slammed open. Ainsley tried to scramble up, but Cameron pushed her protectively behind him while he prepared to lambaste the intruder.
Daniel banged the door shut and more or less fell onto the opposite seat. He grinned at Ainsley, ignoring his father. “So you’re here at last, are ye? Excellent. Now we’ll have some larks.”
The next morning, Ainsley Douglas stood in the parlor of Hart Mackenzie’s London townhouse and married Lord Cameron Mackenzie by the special license he’d obtained before he’d even gone to Doncaster. The witnesses were Hart’s housekeeper and butler and the vicar’s wife. Daniel stood at his father’s side, smiling like mad.