Mine Is the Night A Novel - By Liz Curtis Higgs Page 0,146
will meet with the king’s representative at Edinburgh Castle.” He paused before adding, “Dickson and I shall depart at noontide.”
Elisabeth hesitated but a moment. “There’s something I must do before you go.” She ran her fingers along the hem of her gown until she found the row of white silk rosettes stitched inside the hem of her petticoat. “Have you a pair of scissors, Jack?”
He retrieved a paper knife from the table beside them, the slender, curved blade designed to slice open the folded pages of bound books. “Will this do?”
“Aye.” She gripped the ebony handle and, using the sharp point of the knife, began picking apart the stitches holding her hidden roses in place. “If you are willing to stand before God and king to seek my pardon, then ’tis time I put aside my past.”
Elisabeth sensed his gaze on her as she removed the roses one by one. She felt no sorrow, no regret, only relief. When all her flowers were in hand, she tossed them into the nearby fire. The flames quickly consumed the silk, leaving not a trace.
After a quiet moment Jack said, “No tears, Bess?”
She looked up at him so he might see that her eyes were dry and her soul at peace. “No tears,” she assured him, “for I’ve a whole new life ahead.”
“Indeed you do.” Jack slowly stood, then pulled her to her feet. “At the moment we must get you home before someone sees you and sends rumors flying.”
They crossed the room together, then she stepped to the side while Jack checked to see if the hall was deserted. He opened the door no more than a crack before closing it again, just as quietly. “Footman,” he whispered.
Elisabeth’s heart quickened as Jack drew her back into the recesses of the room.
He explained in a whisper, “Roberts stationed one of his men outside my study in case I might have need of him in the night. He’s fallen asleep, I’m afraid, with his shoulder against the door. We’ve no choice but to tarry here until he wakes and finds his way to bed.”
She looked about the study. “Do you mean for me to spend the night in this room … with you?”
“Can you think of another solution?” he asked.
In truth, she could not. “Perhaps I might sleep over here,” she said, standing to consider an upholstered chair by the window.
“I can do better than that.” He quickly gathered a dozen plump, down-filled pillows from round the room, then built a tidy nest for her next to his reading chair. “Will this suffice?”
She sank onto them, knowing very well she’d not be able to sleep. In this gown? At his feet? Not for a single moment. “Very cozy,” she assured him.
Jack added a fresh log to the fire, extinguished the only candle in the room, then settled into his chair with its thick, rounded upholstery. Unfolded, his plaid blanket draped over them both. “Perhaps we might take turnabout,” he said softly, “so we do not both oversleep. If we rise well before dawn, we can be halfway to Selkirk before the household stirs.”
Elisabeth propped her head on the footstool, looking up at his shadowy form. “You first, milord.”
“Jack.”
“Aye.” She smiled in the darkness. “Jack.”
He shifted round a bit, trying to get comfortable. Then again. Yet a third time. “ ’Tis more challenging than I’d expected,” he murmured. “Because of the chair?”
“Because of the company.”
His hand found hers beneath the plaid. “Have I told you why I love you, Bess?”
She clasped his hand more tightly. “Not yet.”
“Ah.” His voice caressed her like the firelight. “I love your kindness, Bess. Your generous nature. Your courage. Aye, and your sense of humor.”
Elisabeth closed her eyes, undone by his words. She’d not thought it possible to be loved for herself and not merely her appearance. Still, she could not resist teasing him. “All well and good,” she said lightly, “but what about my hair? My face? My form? I thought that was all men prized in a woman.”
“Some men, perhaps. Not this one.” He drew her hand close enough to brush his lips across her skin. “Though I have taken note of your beauty. By the hour, truth be told.”
“I see.” She did not mind that so much.
Jack changed position once more. “Come, Bess, we must sleep while we may.”
“I shall try,” she promised, her eyes wide open.
With muted chimes the mantel clock marked each quarter hour through the night.