Saving Lord Berkshire - Laura Beers Page 0,60

forward.

Miss Blackmore spoke of joy, but the only time he felt true joy, was when he was in her presence. She believed in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself. He couldn’t risk losing her, not when he had so much to lose.

No, he was going to take his time with Miss Blackmore and woo her slowly. Because that is what she deserved.

Finding strength that he didn’t know he had, he leaned back and asked, “Are you hungry?”

A look of confusion came into Miss Blackmore’s eyes as she dropped his hand and sat back against the bench. “I suppose I am,” she answered.

Reaching over, he picked up the small basket of food and pulled out some bread. “Shall we eat?”

15

Katherine woke up as the coach began to slow down, and she realized that her head was resting on Lord Berkshire’s shoulder. When had he moved to her side of the bench? She had to admit to herself that she rather enjoyed being this close to him, relishing his masculine scent.

As she lifted her head, Lord Berkshire greeted her warmly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she muttered, feeling unusually shy as her eyes darted towards the window. “Where are we?”

Lord Berkshire moved to sit across from her. “We should be arriving at Gretna Green shortly,” he replied. “The journey took much longer than expected because the roads were rather muddy last night.”

“We still made good time.”

“That we did.”

She took a moment to smooth back her brown hair as she mustered up the courage to say, “Thank you for letting me sleep on your shoulder.”

“You are welcome,” Lord Berkshire responded with a smile. “I thought my shoulder would be vastly more comfortable than the side of the coach.”

“That it was,” she agreed.

“I am glad to hear that,” he said, his eyes drawing her in.

For some unknown reason, she found herself growing increasingly nervous in Lord Berkshire’s presence, which was ridiculous. Why should she feel the slightest bit uncomfortable around him? And why would the effect his presence had on her be unlike anything she’d ever experienced before?

Drat!

She knew her attraction towards Lord Berkshire was starting to deepen, and she was in real danger of losing her heart to him. A heart that was supposed to be impenetrable. What a fool she was! She needed to be mindful that Lord Berkshire was her client, and a friend. Furthermore, she had no intention of pursuing these feelings.

“Did you hear me?” Lord Berkshire asked.

She blinked and realized that she had been caught staring. “I apologize, but I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”

“I asked if you had ever been to Gretna Green before?”

“I have not,” she said. “Have you?”

He nodded. “I have, many times, in fact,” he replied. “We have a hunting lodge in Scotland that requires us to pass through Gretna Green as we journey north.”

“What is it like?”

“It is a relatively small village with a few clay houses, large inn, and the blacksmith’s shop,” he shared. “From the inn, there is a fine view of the Solway Firth inlet, port Carlisle, and the Cumberland hills.”

The coach came to a stop, and the door was opened by a liveried footman. Lord Berkshire exited first, then reached back to assist her.

As she placed her foot onto the uneven cobblestone, her eyes roamed the small village until they landed on a two-level brick building with a slate roof. “I assume this is the inn you were speaking of,” she commented.

“It is.” Lord Berkshire didn’t release her hand but pulled it into the crook of his arm. “I think it would be best if we spoke to the innkeeper first.”

“Why not just head to the blacksmith’s shop?” she asked.

Lord Berkshire glanced over at her as he started to lead her into the structure. “It is not entirely uncommon to marry at the inn.”

“I had not realized that.”

They stepped into the main hall with rectangular tables lining both sides of the walls. Dirty-looking men stopped their conversations and began to peruse the length of her. Straw lined the floor but that did little to diminish the pungent odor of the hall.

She placed her gloved hand in front of her nose and whispered, “It smells awful in here.”

“That it does.”

A tall, portly man with red hair approached them with his hands out wide. “Welcome to my inn,” he greeted, his booming voice echoing throughout the hall. “What can I get ye and yer bonnie lass?”

Lord Berkshire reached into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. “Nothing but information.”

The innkeeper narrowed his