Chapter 21
Belle woke up to the sounds of squeaking carriage wheels rolling over a dirt road and the thudding of hooves. A groan escaped her parted lips when she arched her back and her muscles disapproved of the action.
What on earth?
She opened one eye, squinting to make sense of her surroundings.
Simon sat across from her, his eyes shut.
What on earth?The words repeated in her head.
She tried to recall how she got here, but her mind appeared to be a bit vague on the events. However, she did recall a warm sweetened cup of milk.
They weren’t restrained, which meant however she got here, at least it had not been against her will.
At least, not entirely.
Her other eye popped open and the pair narrowed on the silent form sitting across from her. A day’s growth of whiskers coated his jaw and tired lines had settled in the corners of his eyes. Even the line of his mouth was pulled thinner than usual.
Her eyes flickered to the snug blanket that had been tucked tightly around her. Why would he think to keep her warm, except if they were traveling far away from home?
Suspicion bloomed.
“What did you do?”
At her hoarse whisper, his eyes opened, alert, and settled on her stormy ones. Weariness replaced…fear?
He said nothing, only cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Her suspicion strengthened to the point of panic.
“Where are you taking me?” Belle asked, more urgently this time.
She must not have sounded quite like herself for concern flared in his gaze. Something settled in her mind and through the haze of her fog-filled head, a distant memory took form: the determination that settled in his gaze when she told him she’d not marry him.
“We are on our way to Scotland. As for what I am doing, I believe they call it kidnapping.”
Her brows rose at his explanation. “Why would you kidnap me?”
But some part of her already knew the answer.
“Why to marry you, of course.”
Belle blinked up at Simon, her mind refusing to capture the significance of his words. Marry her? He must be delusional. The notion was too ridiculous to contemplate, and yet, here she was, tucked away in his carriage without so much as a chaperone.
Belle straightened.
The milk.
She shot him a glare.
“You drugged me? Even after I made my wishes clear?” Her voice sharp and incredulous; she was unable to fully believe that he was capable of it.
He had the grace to look sheepish when he answered. “I laced your milk with a sleeping potion.”
Belle heard the words but comprehension seemed slow to arrive. He had donewhat?
“We are traveling alone,” she accused as her eyes swept the carriage again, noting for the first time more blankets stacked beside Simon and hot bricks on the ground at her feet for warmth.
He nodded. “I left a note on your pillow. Your aunt will know by morning that you eloped with me.”
