Mine Is the Night A Novel - By Liz Curtis Higgs Page 0,147

which she was grateful. He had a long ride ahead of him that day and much to prepare for. Whoever the king’s man might be, Jack would have no easy task convincing him the Kerrs were worthy of his pardon.

In those long, quiet hours, Elisabeth remembered something Donald had said to her on their last night together, promising he’d return from battle a changed man. A different husband will cross your threshold. A husband who is faithful. Donald did not return. But he did speak the truth, without knowing how God might bring it to pass. Lord Jack Buchanan was entirely different than Donald Kerr. And utterly faithful.

At half past five she heard the scrape of a chair at the door and footsteps fading down the hall. With dawn only an hour away, Elisabeth quickly rose and smoothed the wrinkles from her gown. Jack was awake as well, pulling on his riding boots.

“Have you no other shoes?” he asked, frowning at her brocade slippers.

“Aye, with my gown in the servants’ hall.”

He nodded, his expression intent. “Make haste to the drawing room and leave by the outer door. I shall stop by the workroom for your clothing, then meet you beneath the tall oak near the stables. Do you know the one I mean?”

She nodded, her pulse quickening. “And if I am seen? If I am questioned?”

“Pray you will not be.” He bent down and kissed her again. A brief touch but so very tender, warming her to her toes.

They were almost at the door when he caught her wrist. “Give me your reticule, Bess.”

She slipped it over her hand, not questioning him for a moment. It contained all of a ha’penny, and he was welcome to it.

Jack unlocked his desk drawer, pulled out a fistful of bank notes, stuffed them inside her reticule, and returned it to her, bulging at the seams. “For your mother-in-law,” he explained, then slowly opened the door to the hall and looked out.

She held her breath until Jack beckoned her forth. Be with me, Lord. Cover me with your wings. Let me not be seen.

Without a word they hurried down the turnpike stair, then went their separate ways, he to the servants’ stair, she to the drawing room. The house was utterly dark and absolutely silent. She took off her shoes, tiptoeing as quietly as she could, and still she felt like a Highland coo stomping through the halls, so loud was the swish of her satin.

A minute later Elisabeth entered the drawing room, watching the door to Mrs. Pringle’s private office. If anyone would be up at this hour, it would be Bell Hill’s loyal housekeeper. Lord willing, the servants would soon be informed of their marriage plans. But not now, not like this.

The well-oiled hinges did not protest when she unbolted the door and pushed it open. A damp, chilly breeze rushed over her bare skin, making her shiver. Her warm wool cape and sturdy leather shoes would be most welcome. She closed the door, thanking the Lord for safe passage thus far, then hastened across the lawn, hearing the whinnying of horses in the stables. Hyslop would not question his master, not even when Jack claimed both Janvier and Belda at this early hour.

When Elisabeth reached the oak tree, she leaned against the rough trunk, catching her breath, calming her heart. In all her five-and-twenty years, she had never known such a night nor encountered such a man as Jack Buchanan. I adore you. He’d spoken those words with such conviction, leaving no room for doubt or fear.

And I love you, Jack. More than I realized. More than I could possibly imagine.

By the time he’d crossed the lawn with their mounts and reached her side, she was trembling all over.

“Cold?” he asked, sweeping her wool cape round her shoulders.

“A bit,” she admitted, pulling on her gloves. He lifted her onto Belda’s saddle with ease, then exchanged her slippers for sensible shoes before draping her black wool gown across the back of the saddle.

“You’ll need new attire,” he said, “now that you’re no longer in mourning.”

She hadn’t thought of that. Hadn’t thought of a great many things. “I shall have time to sew a new gown for myself, now that I’ve finished dressing all your maidservants.”

“So you have.” He threw himself onto Janvier’s back, then sent both horses trotting forth with a simple command. They were soon through the park and onto the drive leading them away from the house and toward town,