‘We will maintain that everything went as it should have,’ Robert said, moving to the side of the bed and lying down.
Marion pulled the sheets over her semi clad body, unable to sleep. She turned on her side, completely awake, wondering what she must do about her situation. Somewhere in the middle of the night weariness overtook her and Marion fell into a fitful sleep, tossing through semi wakefulness and disturbing dreams until she awoke to see that Robert appeared to have risen before her.
Marion was glad that Netty had been allowed to accompany her to her new home, and she summoned her to help her dress, wondering as she did so, how she would go down and face Brice. To her relief Brice seemed to have taken himself out of the castle and probably intended to stay away for as long as possible.
‘You will have to instruct your maid to have your bags packed and ready to leave,’ Robert said, coming in as she set about reviving herself with a bowl of porridge and a bannock.
‘Must we depart Bothwell Castle so soon?’ Marion asked.
‘Yes, we will leave by coach for London tomorrow morning, and I have arranged our passage to France from there.’ Robert looked energized, cheerful. Nobody would guess that he had failed in his duties as a husband on his wedding night.
‘Might I have leave to visit my family and bid them farewell?’ Marion asked.
Robert nodded. ‘They will be dining with us, and you can say your goodbyes to them then.’
Marion looked out for Brice all that day and in the evening too, when she bid a tearful farewell to her parents, little knowing how she would tell them that her marriage had not been consummated and that it was not her fault that it wasn’t.
CHAPTER IV
The next morning the weather was grey, the wind knifing through the moors and rain coming down in bursts. Marion looked up at the clouds, her face like a block of ice; tears stinging her cheeks as they rode away from the land that had so charmed her, and the man who had claimed her heart.
‘Could my parents not have travelled back to London with us?’ Marion asked Robert.
‘No. You need to learn, as quickly as possible, how to live without them,’ he answered.
Marion stifled her emotions, but the tears broke through eventually. The coach sped bumpily over the uneven terrain, the sound of the horses’ hooves an unsettling accompaniment to the hiss of rain and the howl of wind.
‘It is barely the time to be undertaking such a journey. The weather is so rough!’ Marion cried out.
‘If we wait for fair weather, we will be waiting forever!’ Robert retorted.
The sky grew darker still, the clouds lowering and sparking threateningly. They rode further and further away from Bothwell Castle, braving the elements, when suddenly the horses balked and whinnied, and through the mists Marion saw shadowy figures emerge on horseback and realized by the shouts, that they were being attacked.
Robert sprang from the coach and drew his sword, taking on two men who came at him through the gloom. Marion huddled in the coach, trying not to attract attention to herself, by clapping both her hands over her mouth to stifle the scream that was trapped in her throat. As she crouched in the corner, a masked figure heaved himself inside and grabbed her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a large, heavy hand forced her into silence, as she flailed her arms in protest at her capture.
‘Sssh,’ Brice said, ‘Do not make a sound if you want to escape.’
Marion froze and her body went limp as she relinquished herself to Brice’s arms. He said nothing more as he lifted her onto his horse and galloped away.
‘Brice!’ Marion exclaimed, ‘Is this really you?’ She twisted about in the saddle to get a look at his face, her heart lifting at the sight of him. ‘What do you intend to do with me?’ she asked, confused.
‘I will tell you directly.’
‘Where are we headed?’
‘To a woodcutter’s cottage. It is the only place I could find where we can be safe until we decide what must be done.’
‘We?’
‘Yes, dear Marion – we.’
‘But I am married to Robert.’
‘A mere detail, Marion. A mere detail. Trust me.’
‘Where is this woodcutter’s cottage and how did you come by it?’