Page 131 of The Scottish Duke
Alex was stoic, a man turned to marble. Even the air stilled around him, as if impressed by his statuelike form. He didn’t speak, but neither did she.
When she began to tremble, it wasn’t from the chilled night.
He dropped her hand and reached around her with one arm, pulling her closer. She let him, burying her face against his jacket, feeling his heat and wondering if she would ever warm.
Dear God, what would she do if Mary had harmed her son? How could she live through that?
Her breasts hurt, as if to accentuate the time away from her child. A way of nature reminding her that her infant needed to be fed.
Where was Robbie?
“She talked about baby farmers before,” Alex suddenly said.
She pulled back to look at him. Each movement seemed coated in pain, as if nature were preparing her for the worst of agonies, the loss of her child.
“She hinted that you might do such a thing.”
“I never would have,” she said. She would have starved before she gave up Robbie.
“I know. I knew it back then.”
She lay her head against the seat, staring up at the ceiling of the carriage.
Terror slid down her throat to coil in her stomach.
“Save him,” she said. It was the only thing she could think of to say, the only request or command that made any sense. She didn’t doubt that Alex could rescue their child.
He pulled her hand over, placed a kiss on her knuckles, then rested it on his chest.
“I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you, Lorna. I’m sorry for all the terrible things I’ve said. I’m sorry for the cruelty of others, some of them either in my employ or related to me. I should have spared you all that.”
“I will admit that while you’re godlike in many ways, Alex, you aren’t God.”
“Godlike?”
For the first time since they’d realized Robbie was missing, she felt amusement.
“We’ll discuss your godlike tendencies at another time,” she said.
Abruptly, the carriage pulled over to the side of the road.
“Have we caught up with them?” she asked.
Before Alex could answer, the door opened and Charles stood there in the rain.
“Sir, I can see Jeremy ahead. I know a shortcut, a way to make it to Inverness before him, but the road is bad and the journey won’t be pleasant.”
“Do what you have to do, Charles,” he said. “Just get us there.”
“Aye, Your Grace,” the driver said, shutting the door with a snap.
Their horses were transformed into cousins of Pegasus, their hooves barely touching the road as they flew. The wheels were a different matter, rattling with every rut and rock. She prayed they wouldn’t lose a wheel. Nothing must stop them from reaching Mary.
The carriage springs were no match for the terrain, and if she hadn’t been holding onto Alex and the strap above the window, she would have been tossed to the ceiling or the floor.
Fear kept her silent, but the thunder overhead would have made it impossible to talk even if she had something to say. The storm was following them from Blackhall, the lightning flashing every few minutes as they hurtled through the darkness.
Was Robbie frightened? Had Mary brought another servant with her to hold him? Was she being gentle with him? Had she thought to bring an extra blanket? The night chill, along with the storm, worried her. Mary wouldn’t care about Robbie’s health, not when she had terrible plans for him.
