Page 21 of Memories Made At Midnight (Chronicles of the Westbrook Brides #9)

The primary route from

Carlisle to Cumberland

SIX HOURS LATER

T he horse’s rocking plod came to a stop, rousing Beatrice from a fitful doze. Too afraid to sleep, lest she tumble from the gelding, she hovered on the brink of slumber with her cheek pressed against Cassius’s broad back the past few hours as the horse picked its way over the uneven terrain.

Despite the troubling circumstances, she had to admit she rather enjoyed snuggling up to Cassius’s back. As it was unlikely she’d ever embrace such a fine specimen of masculinity again, she kicked aside any guilt for indulging.

How different things might have been if he hadn’t buried his heart in his work, and she hadn’t determined long ago to remain a spinster.

Ah, well…

Blinking sleepily, Beatrice lifted her head and peered around.

A road. A proper road.

And a well-traveled one at that.

Thank God, they’d made it to the principal route to Cumberland. That meant Cassius’s familial home lay less than twenty miles away. By nightfall, she would be clean, sated from a good meal, and resting in a comfortable bed, and her fears of Uncle Cedric’s men overtaking them gradually fading away.

If the rest of the trip was as uneventful as the past few hours.

Now that they must travel on a road, there was a greater risk of discovery if Uncle Cedric persisted in trying to apprehend her.

Intuition told her he would not give up, but she was no closer to understanding why her uncle was so bent on seeing her married than she had been when this fiasco started in Brighton.

Teddy whined and fidgeted in the sling behind her.

Beatrice coughed into her shoulder, but her chest didn’t hurt anymore.

No doubt, the dog, like her, could use a few minutes of privacy. If the Good Lord showed her any favor, she would never again for as long as she drew breath, have to hide behind a bush to see to her personal needs.

Instead of riding straight onto the road, ever vigilant, Cassius lingered in the shadow of the trees. With his forefinger raised in warning to keep silent, he scanned the area.

Sitting up tall on the horse, Beatrice craned her neck to see past his shoulders and peered up and down the dusty track.

Nothing disturbed the summer afternoon’s calmness.

“Is it safe?” she murmured in Cassius’s ear, still fearful of being overheard.

Her voice came out a throaty scratch, as much from being silent for hours as recovering from her cold.

He gave a slow nod. “I think so.”

How she longed to have the right to soothe the lines of fatigue from his dear face.

“Before we continue, do you need a few minutes alone?” he asked.

A discreet way of inquiring if Beatrice needed to relieve herself.

She did.

Quite desperately, in truth.

No doubt, he did too, though how she would get back onto the horse might prove challenging.

“Yes, please.” Beatrice ought to be mortified about discussing something so personal, but pride had a way of evaporating when critical matters shoved themselves to the forefront. At that precise moment, her very full bladder didn’t give two figs about her delicate sensibilities.

An overly full bladder wasn’t her only discomfort. Her stomach seemed intent on gnawing through her spinal column. For all the suffering she’d endured at Uncle Cedric’s hand, she’d been well-fed.

Except for the times he’d punished her by sending her to bed without supper. Sometimes, a kind servant sneaked her a dinner roll or an apple to hold her over until morning. If her uncle had caught them, the servant would have faced immediate dismissal, which explained why, most of the time, no one dared try to help her.

In short order, Cassius dismounted, lifted her down, and set Teddy on the ground.

Almost afraid to move, lest her bottom scream in protest or her legs buckle beneath her, as they had the other night, Beatrice took a couple of tentative steps. To be sure, she was sore, and her inner thighs chafed, but the discomfort was bearable this time.

Cassius led the gelding back into the trees for privacy, and she hurried behind a fallen log. After inspecting the area to ensure no one and nothing observed her, Beatrice attended to her needs.

Once finished, she tried to brush the grime from her stained clothing. What an unkempt state to be in to meet the Duke and Duchess of Latham. She hoped Cassius’s parents were as understanding and welcoming as he’d assured Beatrice they were.

Still, arriving at a ducal estate wearing soiled and tattered garments, smelling of horse and sweat, and in dire need of a bath, wasn’t exactly the introduction to Cassius’s parents Beatrice had anticipated.

They might mistake her for a tatterdemalion—or worse—rather than an heiress.

What would they think of her, involving their son in her troubles?

Beatrice’s welcome might not be as cordial as Cassius assured her it would be.

Still, she had no choice but to continue onward.

Coming out from behind the fallen larch tree, she signaled Nala and Teddy to her side. All she needed was for one dog to chase a squirrel or rabbit and delay the journey.

Several feet away, Cassius stared at the road, visible through the forest.

Was he concerned?

Should she be too?

As if he’d been listening for her, Cassius glanced in Beatrice’s direction. His expression unreadable, he held his hand up, clearly telling her to be still.

She froze in place, fear nearly strangling her, then snapped her fingers twice; the signal for her dogs to remain immobile.

Uncle Cedric had poked fun at her for spending so much time training Nala and Teddy, but her efforts had not been for nothing. This moment was proof.

A cart, pulled by a pair of mismatched but sturdy horses, lumbered down the track toward them. Cheerful, off-key whistling carried into the serene woods where the birds had stopped singing.

In short order, a beefy man wearing humble farmer’s clothing, along with a lad of perhaps fourteen dozing beside him, trundled past. The wagon bed contained several metal milk cans that clinked and clanked against each other on the bumpy road.

Once the cart disappeared from sight, Cassius brought the gelding near the tree next to which Beatrice stood rooted.

“A local dairy farmer taking his milk to market in Kirby Lonsdale,” he explained. “My ancestral home is only about five miles from here.”

In the process of lifting Teddy into her arms, Beatrice jerked her head up. “ Only five ?”

That was so much better than the twenty, she’d guessed.

Relief tunneled through her veins.

This leg of her journey to freedom was nearly over.

“Aye. Mayhap a little less. We’ll cut through the woods and a couple of meadows.” Scratching his temple, Cassius grinned as he maneuvered the horse into place for her to climb on. “I recognized where I was several miles back and took a diagonal route through the woodlands. My father’s land borders this road for the next several miles.”

Miles ?

Just how big was the ducal estate?

“All we have to do is cross the road a few feet farther along, and we are on private property. Not even your uncle’s men would be stupid enough to try to apprehend us on the Duke of Latham’s land.”

Beatrice wasn’t so certain because she didn’t know what motivated her uncle to begin with.

“Beatrice, would you like to sit in the saddle for a while?”

Cassius’s question took her off guard.

The crooked smile he bestowed upon her gave him an almost bashful, boyish appearance. “It’s only slightly more comfortable than riding behind me.”

Or on his lap ?

A little thrill she certainly ought not to have felt, let alone enjoyed, zipped along her veins at the thought.

Again, he considered her needs above his own. However, Beatrice’s primary concern was getting to Hefferwickshire House as quickly as possible and without acting like a moon-eyed ninny along the way.

She’d not risk her friendship with him by having him discover her feelings had grown into something considerably warmer than platonic over the past few days.

Aiming for a practical mien, she adjusted Teddy in her arms and asked, “Which is the fastest way for us to travel?”

The small dog panted, his little pink tongue hanging from his mouth as the temperature rose, even in the trees’ shade. In truth, she considered removing her cloak and using it as additional padding between her and the horse.

Except, with her gown hitched up, that meant exposing her bare calves and part of her thighs. She wasn’t quite daring enough for that.

Rubbing Teddy’s head, Cassius considered her question.

“I’m not an expert on these things.” He brushed a hand over his bristly jaw.

That was another thing she appreciated about him. He didn’t try to be a know-it-all or puff up with self-importance by pretending knowledge or skills he didn’t have.

“In truth, I’ve only ever ridden double with you,” he said.

Beatrice couldn’t prevent the slight slackening of her mouth in surprise.

She’d assumed with as many siblings as Cassius had, and having come from a family where riding was as natural as walking, he’d have experienced riding double many times. It just proved how ignorant she was of not only horseback riding but of his life and family.

“But I’d guess it would be swifter with you behind me again since I’m experienced with holding the reins and you are not.” He gathered Teddy into his arms. “Which means, little chap, it’s back into the sling for you.”

Once he’d tucked Teddy into his pouch, Cassius helped balance Beatrice as she swung a very sore leg over the horse’s broad back.

She barely suppressed a groan. But she vowed not to complain. Regardless, a very long soak in a steaming bath was definitely in order.

Beatrice tried not to notice when Cassius accidentally brushed his arm across her breasts as he slid into the saddle. A jolt of sensation shot to her stomach at the contact, proving what she accepted these past couple of days.

She was attracted to him.

More than attracted, truthfully.

But what woman would not be?

Had it been any other man, she might’ve suspected him of touching her breasts deliberately, but Cassius had only ever been the perfect gentleman toward her.

Which, in point of fact, had become the teensiest bit frustrating.

Twice now, she thought he might kiss her. But each time, he refrained and retreated behind his wall of politeness and impeccable manners.

One kiss wouldn’t turn the world on its axis, wouldn’t stop the tides from changing or the moon from rising. But one kiss would be a treasure she could hide away in her heart, and when loneliness and regret reared their gnarly little heads as they were bound to do, she would have Cassius’s kiss to retrieve from its fusty hiding place and savor what never could have been.

She stared at his raven hair teasing the collar of his jacket.

I’ll have that kiss before we part ways, Cassius Westbrook.

You just wait and see .

Beatrice’s tummy fluttered at her naughty vow, but she meant it.

Someway, somehow, she would share a kiss with this man.

Once they left the woods’ protective cover, Cassius steered the tired horse to the right.

The poor creature moved slower now, having borne the brunt of carrying two people and a dog for many hours. The gelding deserved extra grain, a long rub down, and a thorough brushing.

For the next half hour, they rode in silence, only the calls, chirps, and tweets of birds and squirrels interrupting the serenity of their surroundings. Several times, Beatrice couldn’t prevent a swift glance behind them to assure herself they weren’t about to be overtaken by ruffians.

Tension eased from her shoulders when Cassius turned the horse off the main track into another wooded area interspersed with small stands of birch and oak. They disturbed a red stag lying in the two-foot-high grass, and the noble creature bolted for the forest’s safety.

Trying to ignore her sore inner thighs, Beatrice inhaled a cleansing breath, almost heady with relief.

They were finally safe—well, as safe as they would be until they reached the manor house.

“Cassius, are you certain your parents shan’t be put out when we show up on their doorstep unannounced?” It wasn’t likely the duke and duchess would object to their son’s arrival.

But hers?

That might prove to be a wholly different scenario.

“I would hate to be an imposition.” Beatrice flexed her fingers against his ribs, and he shifted.

His shoulders shook, and it took her a moment to realize he was laughing.

Because he was ticklish or because of her question?

“What, pray tell, is so blasted funny Cassius Westbrook?” She dug her fingers into his ribs again.

“I’m sorry.” He glanced over his shoulder, those beautiful dark blue eyes sparkling with humor.

He didn’t look the least bit sorry.

“My parents live for occasions like this. I assure you, they love nothing better than to rescue someone. It makes them feel needed.”

Beatrice mulled that over for several clip-clops of the horse’s hooves.

How very different were the duke and duchess from her uncle, who detested helping anyone.

“Tell me more about them, please.” She rested her chin on his back.

Such familiarity was beyond the pale, but after all they had endured over the past few days, propriety had flown out the window. Every detail she learned about him was another trinket she could store in the treasure chest of her heart.

“It will help me feel less intimidated when I finally meet them.” That much was true.

“Father and Mother were both married before. My oldest brothers, Layton and Fletcher, were from Mother’s first marriage. Father adopted them when they were quite young.” Affection threaded his voice before he chuckled. “You shouldn’t be surprised to learn my grandmama had a hand in their union.”

“Your part Roma grandmother, the dowager duchess?”

“Aye.” He half turned in the saddle. “She’s a meddling old dear, so watch yourself. She’s not above shenanigans to get her way either.”

“I shall take your advice to heart.” Beatrice couldn’t prevent her answering grin.

Nala trotted ahead, seemingly no worse the wear from her long trek.

Cassius’s family sounded lovely.

How wonderful it must’ve been to grow up surrounded by siblings and with loving parents.

Another half hour passed as he chatted about his sister, six brothers, the duke and duchess, and his grandmother.

“She tricked us all into coming home for Christmas that year.” He shook his head. “We were all convinced something ghastly had occurred or that she was dying.”

They exited the woodland into a lush meadow and across the way, stood a majestic manor, more castle than house.

Beatrice couldn’t contain her gasp or the involuntary tightening of her arms around his middle.

“Oh, Cassius. Your family home is magnificent.”

“I never tire of coming home.” Pride deepened his voice. “No matter what might happen while I am away, this place lifts my spirits every time.”

A noise farther along the meadow drew her attention, and she slid a casual glance in that direction.

A pair of rough-looking men thundered from the tree line. Even at this distance, she could see the menace contorting their unshaven faces.

No. Not now.

Not when we are so close.

“Cassius? There are two men?—”

His curse cut off her warning.

“Hold tight, Beatrice. We must make a break for the house.”