Vicar's Daughter to Viscount's Lady (Transformation of the Shelley Sisters 2)

It was not deep, but the current was strong and full of wood and branches torn down by the rains. Elliott fought his way to the carriage and made his rope fast, then clambered over the tilted side to cut the traces. The bodies of the horses broke free and were swept downstream, taking some of the strain off the body of the vehicle.

He clambered back as more men joined the carpenter, tying on ropes. ‘Arabella?’ The window, facing up at the sky, was closed. He dare not break it. There was movement inside and it opened halfway. ‘Arabella!’

‘Is it safe to take the baby?’ she said, her face white; her lips, he saw with horror, were almost blue.

‘Yes, give her to me.’ He reached in and the squirming, furious bundle was pushed into his hands.

‘I’ll be back in just a moment. Hold on, Arabella.’ Elliott slid and scrambled over the tilting carriage, trying not to rock it, trying to hold tight to the baby. When he reached the water there was a chain of men holding the ropes, breaking the flow for him so he would get to land.

‘I’ll take her, I’ve got grandbabies,’ said Philips, reaching for Marguerite.

Elliott brushed back the blanket off her face and she stared at him, big blue eyes in a red, indignant face and his heart turned over. ‘I love you,’ he murmured and pushed her into the gnarled hands. ‘Get her dry and warm,’ he said as he turned back to the water.

‘We’ve got ropes on it, it won’t shift now,’ Murrow told him. ‘If we can just get that baulk of timber off we can open the door.’

It took three of them, balanced on the carriage, to shift the timber and force open the door. Arabella pushed Mary Humble out, then held up her arms for Elliott.

‘I knew you would come. I knew it. I only had to be strong enough to hold on until then.’

‘I will always come for you,’ he said, pulling her into his arms almost roughly. ‘I’ll always come for both of you.’

Somehow they reached the bank. Servants from the house were there now with towels and blankets and hot water. ‘How do you feel?’ He stood there, half-naked, the fog wrapping chill tendrils round him and felt only the touch of her presence. He lifted a hand and stroked his fingers down her cheek and Arabella turned her face into the hollow of his hand and kissed it.

‘I am so sorry, Elliott. I just wanted to find Meg, to get away and think.’

‘And I should have listened to you. Don’t fret, everyone will be all right.’ He swept her up in his arms and walked with her to the carriage where Gwen was waiting to envelop her in towels and rugs. Mary Humble was already there, cradling the baby, but she gave her to Arabella as she reached for her.

‘Hot baths, Gwen,’ he ordered. ‘Hurry, now.’

A rapid check that the men were all safe and the groom was being taken care of and Elliott was on horse-back again and galloping in the wake of the carriage. He had nearly lost Arabella. Nearly lost both of them. The terror of it clawed at him like a creature, the fear that they might still be in danger from the cold racked him.

Arabella was in the bath when he strode, dripping, into her bedchamber. Gwen tried to shoo him out, but Elliott simply sidestepped her and went round the screen.

‘Oh! Oh, Elliott. Marguerite is quite all right. She’s warm and none the worse and tucked up.’

He knelt by the tub and reached for the big sponge that she was trying, very ineffectively, to hide behind. Gwen had washed her hair and swathed it in a turban of towelling and she was already turning pink from the effects of the warm water.

‘We need you dry and in bed. Look at these washerwoman’s fingers.’ He held up her water-wrinkled hand to show her. Then, suddenly, the shock of it ambushed him, knocking away his strength and his defences.

‘Arabella—’ His voice cracked.

‘I know. It is all right now,’ she soothed, pulling her to him, muddy and sodden as he was. ‘It is all right.’

He could feel the hot tears on his cheeks and hoped she would think it was his hair that was dripping on her as she held him, rocking him as best she could, as though he was the one needing looking after, not her.

Arabella, I love you. Darling girl, I love you. The words sounded so loud in his head that for a moment he thought he had spoken them. Elliott turned away abruptly to snatch up a towel and scrub his betraying face with it and heard her gasp. He had said it out loud.

‘Elliott? You love me?’ He swivelled back and met the wide hazel gaze that seemed to reach right down into his soul. ‘I love you,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘Elliott, I can hardly believe that you can love me too.’

He bent to take her lips as his mind reeled. She loves me? Arabella loves me. ‘I only just realised. I could have lost you and I didn’t know…I didn’t understand what I was feeling. Arabella, how could I have been so blind?’

‘I was blind, too, you know,’ Arabella murmured, reaching out to touch his face. ‘I realised when I was in the family chapel that what I felt for you was so different from what I felt for Rafe, so strong, that it had to be love.’ She blushed a little, ‘And in bed…’

‘It did not occur to me that a woman like you only gives herself with that trust and desire, night after night, when she is in love with the man,’ Elliott said. He felt as though he was drunk and yet utterly clear-headed. It was wonderful and terrifying. ‘I just thought I was fortunate that at least I was able to make you happy in bed.’

A little laugh escaped her. ‘Oh, Elliott. Do you realise we have never made love knowing that we love each other?’

Elliott looked at her thoughtfully, his eyes heavy with unspoken desire and Bella’s insides became hot and liquid with longing. ‘What a very provoking idea, my love. We are going to have to give it so much thought—and probably a great deal of attention—to make certain we express our feelings fully.’