Page 8 of Meet Me at the Anvil

“Is that supposed to make me feel guilty?”

In her heart she already knew this whole venture was completely stupid and impulsive. But there was nothing back there for her, she had to hold onto that thought. She had to commit to whatever stupidity she’d thrown herself into, and not dare look back.

Liam just shrugged, unhelpfully.

A runaway goat for a runaway bride, Diane grumbled to herself, something sinking in her chest. “Oh... I don’t feel well.”

“Then hand me the reins.”

“No! They’re mine,” she said, feeling a bit childish even as she clutched the reins closer to her chest. The horse responded by stopping a little too quickly, jerking them nearly out of their seats.

Liam threw a hand out in front of her, his arm catching her middle and keeping her from tipping out over the dashboard. She fell back in her seat with a thud.

They were stopped in the middle of the road.

The truly awful feeling welled up in her chest as she sat there, reins in her lap. If she turned around now, maybe no one would notice that they had been gone. She took in a few shuddery breaths, willing herself not to cry, or faint, or throw up.

She chewed her lower lip, and finally set the reins down on the dashboard. Without a word, she got out, wobbling onto the mounting step, onto the dirt road.

Indeed, the little white goat with the bow around its neck had followed them a couple miles from the church.

Maybe they could turn back, and say the goat had run off and they were only retrieving it.

The baby goat bleated that odd, voice-cracking scream.

A laugh almost broke through Diane’s chest, pushing the pinched sadness from her face. That was how she felt about that idea too.

She crossed to the goat, picking up its leash and then the rest of the goat, tucking it under her arm. She came back to the carriage, and lifted the little beast up to Liam.

“Can he fit in the back with my trunk?”

Liam arched an eyebrow, frowning, but he took the goat from her with such ease, as if he were lifting a newborn kitten. He set it next to her trunk in the back compartment.

Diane climbed back into her seat, arranging her skirts around her before she took up the reins once more.

The decision was this: they weren’t turning around, because she didn’t know how to make the carriage do that.

Diane sat up straight and flicked the reins like she had before, perhaps a little less desperately. The horse started to walk again, a slower pace this time. This driving thing wasn’t nearly so hard now that she had a general gist of it.

Liam had angled himself towards her, one arm draped over the back of the carriage to keep a hand on the baby goat. “Where are we running off to, then?”

“I’m,” she swallowed the word ‘unsure’ back. A fork in the road was rapidly approaching. God, she’d never had any need to learn the roads before. If she didn’t make a choice, even a random one, she’d let the horse trample the sign and go off-road.

“This way,” she declared, pulling the reins to the left, which led the horse into turning towards the right. At least it successfully stayed on the road.

“Scotland?” Liam said, deadpan.

She nodded. “Yes, to Scotland.”

---