Page 93 of Mending the Baron's Sins
It would mean giving up the midwifery, would it not?
He was the first to pull back. In his eyes, she saw the pain that she was suffering.
“If you ever need me, I’m a letter away,” he reassured her, his voice firm. “Write to me, and I’ll be here.”
“Thank you.” She glanced away at the building behind her. “Horace…” She wanted to tell him she loved him, but feared doing so now would make their parting even more bitter. “Goodbye,” she said instead, cursing her own weakness.
He smiled, sadly.
“Goodbye, Orla.”
He kissed her again, and this time there was nothing tentative or brief about that kiss. It was seductive, making her pulse race. When they pulled apart, they were both breathless. Then he slowly disentangled his arm from her waist.
Feeling as if her heart were shattering into pieces, Orla reached for the door and stepped down. She hurried onto the pavement,still clutching the piece of paper he had given her. The driver stepped down and placed her portmanteau at her feet, then returned to his seat.
Orla didn’t move. She didn’t even think about making her way into the building behind her. She wanted to wait here, savoring these last moments with Horace for as long as possible. He looked at her through the window and raised his hands to his lips, kissing the ends. Her breath hitched at the power of such a movement. Then suddenly, the coach lurched forward.
Horace vanished from view, and she watched in agony as it rolled down the street.
The tears came at once, and she was unable to stop them. They burned hot on her cheeks, her breath gasping, as she turned to keep the coach in view for as long as possible.
I don’t want this. Not anymore.
It hit her with suddenness.
At Horace’s side, it was a different dream, but could she not also be useful? She could still be a healer, even if it meant no longer being a midwife.
She stepped away from her portmanteau, wishing to race after him, but at the same time fearing she was too late.
He’s gone.
Then suddenly, the coach door burst open. The carriage was still rolling down the street, and the driver suddenly shouted, outraged and panicked, that the baron was trying to get out now. Horace leaped down from the coach and stumbled onto the pavement, nearly falling face first.
“Horace!” Orla cried, fearing he would injure himself. She left her portmanteau behind and ran toward him down the road. Her lungs burned with the effort of sprinting and breathing so fast, just as he settled his balance.
Suddenly, he ran back toward her. They met abruptly, his arms coming up around her waist. He picked her up off the ground, embracing her tight, and Orla felt a rush of warmth to be in his arms again. Apparently, he didn’t care if anyone saw him embracing a woman in the middle of the street who he was not married to. He showed no intention of putting her down at all, and just held onto her.
“Stay with me,” he begged, putting her back down again. “I’ll drive you myself to and from this place every day if it’s what you want, or I’ll get you a position with another healer, if you’d prefer that, but Orla…” He paused, looking her in the eye. “I don’t want to live my life without you.”
“Nor I you,” she whispered.
His smile was sudden, stretching across his face fully.
“Marry me, Orla.”
She baulked, stumbling in his grasp.
“Marry you? I’m a healer! You’re a baron!”
“Shout it all you like,” he said with a rushed chuckle, “but I see no obstacle to us marrying. Surely, as a baron, I should be able to marry who I wished to, shouldn’t I?” He gently pressed his finger to the underside of her chin, tilting her face up toward him. “Marry me, Orla, please.”
There wasn’t a hesitation in Orla’s mind, not after the realization she had just had when watching his carriage roll away.
“Yes,” she said with a hasty nod.
His lips collided with her own in an impassioned kiss.
“Oh! The scandal!” One lady cried as she walked past them, hiding them from view with a fan over her face.
