Dominic eased his horse, Brutus, amid the cacophony of quacking ducks, squealing pigs and market traders shouting their wares. He was oblivious to the stench of manure, straw and unwashed bodies as he meandered listlessly through the milling crowds. He didn’t really want to be there at all. He’d only returned home briefly to deal with several pressing estate matters, before he was depa
rting for Willowbrook to witness the Isobel’s internment into the family crypt.
Sucking in a deep breath, he fought the wave of bitter regret that surged through him when the image of her beautiful face swam in front of him. God, he missed her. His heart clenched painfully in his chest, until the physical pain became so acute that he wasn’t sure he could continue home.
In a desperate attempt to divert his wayward thoughts away from his gloomy emotions, he studied the milling crowds. Farmer’s wives dressed simply in coarse cotton dresses, and starched white aprons, herded the gaggle of laughing children as they chased an assortment of noisy animals through the bustling crowd. People milled around simply chatting, while others darted in and out of the many tiny shops lining the busy street.
Suddenly he blinked as a surge of disbelief swept through him. His heart froze in his chest as he studied the spectre before him.
There!
Was grief playing tricks upon his mind?
Reigning Brutus to a stop, he sat perfectly still, his eyes locked so fixatedly on the cloaked figure approaching the bakery. The colours and sounds of the street around him disappeared into a numbing buzz.
He struggled to absorb what, or rather whom, he was actually seeing.
Heart thumping crazily in his chest, and he ignored the curious stares of the locals to leaned forward in his saddle to get a better look. His watched closely as the cloaked figure moved hesitantly through the crowd. He knew it couldn’t be the person he wanted it to be. All logic defied the possibility, but his heart screamed it had to be; it simply had to be!
“Sweet Jesus!” he declared softly, tipping his head sideways to try to see more of the face. The hood of the over-long cloak was tugged upwards, shielding the face from all but the most intense scrutiny. He had still managed to catch sight of the haunting blue eyes that had plagued his dreams for the past few months.
There was something about the way the figure moved that was so startlingly familiar that he just couldn’t discount the stunning possibilities his common sense refused to consider. Willing the figure to look toward the main road, and him, once more, he watched and waited.
He knew he could disregard the wild possibility and go home, but something, some intrinsic need to know for certain, kept him still.
Cursing himself for a fool, he waited until the figure disappeared into the bakery before quickly dismounting, taking the reins in one hand as he tugged Brutus to the side of the road. He waited patiently for the insanity to stop. He knew the woman he loved could not possibly be purchasing bread in the village bakery. Isobel was dead, right?
It seemed to take a lifetime for the cloaked figure to re-appear. Dominic’s gaze locked on to the delicate curve of the pointed chin clearly visible in the shadows of the billowing cloak hood. Without further thought, he placed his not inconsiderable bulk directly in the path of the approaching figure, cursing himself for the worst kind of fool for having such ridiculous flights of fancy.
Within moments, he had his answer.
Isobel’s stunned blue eyes met and held his in shocked disbelief. Her gasp hung between them briefly, before disappearing into the cacophony of noise that seemed to return louder than ever before.
Dominic’s world rocked, and his heart soared as he stared into the features of the one person he had never thought to see again.
Isobel!
“Sweet mother of God,” he swore softly, his ravenous gaze sweeping over her beautiful features hungrily. He absorbed every new nuance and hollow in the delicately pale face that was so achingly familiar.
Isobel’s world swam around her as she stared up at Dominic’s handsome, tanned face with a strange mixture of loving dread. Despite everything, she knew in that instant that she still loved him, and undoubtedly always would.
The dark slashes of his thick brows emphasised the startling emerald green gaze that now pierced her with hungry intensity, causing her blood to hum crazily through her body.
Her solemn gaze met and held his tearfully. Standing perfectly still, she was stunned to discover that despite everything, she wished he would just slide his arms around her, and hold her. Just once more. Her heart thumped crazily in her chest, and she found herself unable to move as his hungry gaze roamed over her from head to foot.
“Isobel? Is it really you?” he made no attempt to hide the incredulous tone of his voice.
Isobel yearned to lean against his solid warmth. Unchecked tears trickled slowly down her pale features, as her wayward body cried out to him. If God should strike her down now, she would happily cross the gates of Heaven to spend her last moments with this man beside her.
She found herself unable to make a sound, and watched solemnly as his hand slowly rose to cup her cold cheek tenderly. The touch of his blunt fingers against her flesh snapped her out of her daze. Horror surged through her as the stark reality of her current predicament, and his marital status, came flooding back. She glanced up at him only for her heart to clench in fear as she caught sight of the horrifying figure of her uncle rapidly approaching.
“Isobel, darling!” Dominic got no further.
“Please help me,” Isobel whispered, her gaze frankly pleading as it met and held his. “If I ever meant anything to you at all, please help me.” She knew she was begging, but pride meant nothing to her against her current predicament.
With her uncle, and imminent capture, fast approaching, it was imperative Dominic understood her desperate situation, and help her. She couldn’t bear the thought of simply being handed over to her uncle; for the last gruelling weeks to be for nothing.
To be betrayed by Dominic would be the worst kind of defeat possible. Isobel didn’t think she could bear it. She desperately began to search for a way out.