Caitlin relaxed in Gregory’s arms and watched the outline of Bellamy Hall, in all its gothic extravagance, rise up against the sky before them.
Lamps burned in many windows, casting golden light in welcome and greeting, and the solidity of the structure, as always, was both comforting and reassuring.
Home.
She’d never felt so strongly settled, so anchored by place at Benbeoch Manor. She’d been born there, but it had never felt like hers—her place to nurture.
Bellamy Hall did. In the welcome she’d found there, she’d grown and set down roots. This was where she should and would remain.
All that was very clear to her now, and the notion of remaining in Gregory’s arms was the icing on her cake.
Smiling to herself, she leaned her head against his chest.
She felt him look down at her and murmured, low so only he would hear, “You’re carrying me away from an altar, you know.”
She sensed him smiling down at her. “I don’t think the abbey any longer qualifies as consecrated ground, so I’ll have to search for another to haul you before.”
She opened her eyes wide and trained them on him. “Haul? Doesn’t the general concept of matrimony rather assume any hauling done is the other way around?”
His smile deepened. “But this is us. Neither you nor I—nor, indeed, any of those at Bellamy Hall—necessarily follow anyone else’s rules.”
She conceded that with a tip of her head. “True.”
Still smiling, he looked ahead, and she followed his gaze to where Alice and Julia stood holding open the south door.
“Actually,” he murmured, “as matters are shaping up, I suspect I’ll be carrying you all the way to your room.”
Her squawked “I’m sure I’ve recovered my balance by now” was dismissed as irrelevant by everyone.
With Alice and Julia fussing on either side, Gregory carried Caitlin through the corridors, up the main stairs, and all the way to her bedchamber, allowing those who had waited in the house to reassure themselves that she was, in fact, all right.
“Perfectlyall right,” as she kept insisting.
Yet despite the pointed looks she threw him, no one made the slightest attempt to suggest that he allow her to walk on her own two feet, and for that, he was grateful. He honestly didn’t know whether he could force himself to let her go.
But once they reached her room, Alice, backed by Julia, demanded he deposit Caitlin on the pretty blue counterpane on her bed and leave her to their ministrations.
When Caitlin was moved to protest that she didn’t need to lie on her bed, she was firmly overruled, although Alice promised that, once she had checked her for any and all injuries, she would be free to go downstairs.
Forced to accept that, Gregory laid Caitlin down and retreated. He went first to his room to change his scuffed and dusty clothes, then descended the stairs and joined Patrick, the other Fergussons, and the regular contingent of Hall residents in the drawing room.
Everyone, including Patrick Fergusson, had spruced themselves up, as it was nearly time for dinner.
Sherry was passed around, and minor toasts were drunk while everyone waited for the lady of the moment to arrive.
When, escorted by Alice and Julia, Caitlin finally appeared, the room erupted in cheers.
Gregory rose from his armchair as she glided across the room, a smile just for him on her lips. He reached for her hand and, when she surrendered it, grasped her fingers, smoothly raised her hand to his lips, and brushed a kiss to her knuckles, to the open delight of most of those watching and the narrowing-eyed interest of her uncle.
Blushing prettily, Caitlin turned and, standing beside Gregory with her hand still in his, thanked everyone for their concern and for coming to her aid and, smiling at Alice, confirmed she’d been given a clean bill of health.
“Which,” Caitlin confided, her smiling gaze raking the attentive faces, “is just as well, for I was determined to join you for dinner. You must tell me all that occurred when you confronted that fiend, Lord Ecton.”
Numerous voices assured her the tale was one worth telling, but before any could commence it, a beaming Cromwell appeared to announce that dinner was served.
Gregory offered Caitlin his arm, and she laid her hand on his sleeve, and in happy anticipation, they led the company, bubbling with good spirits, into the dining room.
He sat Caitlin at the foot of the table, then returned to his place at the table’s head. Patrick had been shown by a deferential Cromwell to the chair on Gregory’s right.
