Page 37 of When We Touch

Did he blame her? Not with any sense of right or dignity. She’d taken her leave. He had called her back.

Ah, but she’d fallen quite easily into his arms! No protest there. And she was the one getting married. He had rather just proved that she was far too young for Charles, that she would eventually hurt him, taking on a lover.

Or was it just him? Had she found something so incredibly unique and special in him?

“Nice conceit, eh, Newton?” he said to the horse. “Bit of ego on my part, there, eh?

“Well, let’s head home, shall we, Newton? It seems there’s little else to do tonight.”

He mounted his horse, and turned the animal from the house and the woman who would haunt him forever.

His mind was set. He had intended to keep her from danger, and yet, it seemed, he was the greatest danger she might encounter at the moment. Darby would have to look after her on his own until the wedding.

The wedding.

A taste of acid nearly choked him.

Hopefully, she would lie low and keep her peace for a week, at the very least! Because, if he could help it, he didn’t intend to see her again until after she was duly wed to Charles.

* * *

“Here we are at last. Moorhaven,” Jamie said, looking at Arianna, trying to smile. The carriage they had taken from the rail station drew to a halt at the end of the estate’s long drive.

Arianna didn’t respond. She’d been dour the entire trip—except when they had first approached London. Then she had started quizzing him relentlessly on news regarding current events in the city, and she’d had a morbid curiosity when he’d talked about some of the private individuals trying to improve conditions for the poor in their own country.

Then, entering the countryside, she’d fallen silent again.

As the cabbie came around for their baggage, he caught Arianna’s hand. “I’ve never seen your father so happy, or look so well. Try to be pleased, for his sake.”

She stared at Jamie. “I will never let him know how I feel.”

“Maybe you’ll feel differently. You’ve not met Lady Maggie yet.”

She gave him a frighteningly icy smile. “You’re so right.”

Jamie sighed, shaking his head. Mrs. Whitley was rushing out to greet them. Darby followed her, ready to get Arianna’s bags.

“Welcome home, welcome home!” Mrs. Whitley almost hugged the girl. Not quite. She stopped short. She was a no-nonsense woman, but kind enough, even if she appeared remote.

“Thank you, Mrs. Whitley,” Arianna said. Then, looking around Mrs. Whitley, she smiled with honest warmth. “Darby!”

“Little Miss!” Darby said, and he didn’t seem to have a problem in the least accepting Arianna’s enthusiasm as she threw herself into his arms.

Uncomfortable himself, Jamie watched the proceedings.

“Sir James, will you come in for tea? Your uncle will surely expect you to do so.”

“No, I’ve much to keep me busy today, I’m afraid, Mrs. Whitley. Please tell Uncle Charles that I will be here bright and early tomorrow.”

“Indeed, Sir James, I’ll tell him,” Mrs. Whitley assured him.

He nodded, and turned back to the cab.

Arianna let Darby loose, turning back to him. “Jamie!”

“Yes?”

She flew the distance between them, hugging him suddenly as she had Darby. “Thank you . . . I wouldn’t have been able to do this if you hadn’t come to France for me yourself.”