Page 85 of Gone with the Rake

But still… it felt nice to be cared for again.

“So, what is the plan, exactly?” she asked after taking a sip of the ale.

He shrugged. “We’re going to Gretna Green to get married. Then we’ll return to Wakefield to declare our marriage to my father so I can claim my inheritance when he dies. After that, we’ll stay in Wakefield until the rumors about you die down, and then we can go back to London.”

He was unwavering in his conviction. And Lydia… Lydia was slowly starting to warm to the idea of being his wife.

All this time, she had thought he didn’t want her—that he thought her beneath him. The bitterness had been eating away at her, but if she had just spoken to him…

That was easier said than done.

She had tried to reach him for years without success. His father had blocked every attempt. And with her sick mother, she had neither the means nor the opportunity to search for him. By the time her mother had died, she had been too heartbroken, too bitter to even try.

How was she supposed to know?

“How can you be so certain that life with me will be better?” she asked.

He frowned. “Better than what?”

“Than the one without me.”

He turned to her, confusion lining his features as if he didn’t understand the question.

She took another bite of pie under his watchful gaze, suddenly self-conscious.

Then, he smiled. “Because it already is.”

Lydia swallowed with a loud gulp. What was one even supposed to say to that?

His gentle smile turned wry, and then he turned to look out the window. “Finish your food and then try to get some rest. It’s going to be a long journey.”

Chapter 23

Rain pelted against the carriage windows. It had been drizzling for most of the journey—nearly three full days now—but in the past few hours, the downpour had worsened. The steady drumming of water against the roof was a constant companion, muffling the world outside.

Thorn held Lydia close as she slept, her breathing even, her face peaceful. He studied her in the dim light, memorizing the way her lashes fanned against her cheek, a constant smile on his face. Having her in his arms felt like a dream come true. Sometimes, he thought he hadn’t woken up yet, and if this was a dream, he hoped he never would.

The journey, however, hadn’t been easy. After just an hour in the swaying carriage, Lydia had grown queasy and spent most of the day in a drowsy haze. She wasn’t used to such long travel in a confined space—she’d told him she always preferred riding on horseback. Even after they reached solid ground, she often needed an hour or two of rest before she could keep down a meal or hold a proper conversation.

But she was stubborn. She wouldn’t let them delay, no matter how much she suffered for it.

They were nearly halfway to Scotland when the carriage lurched to an abrupt stop. Thorn tightened his arms around Lydia, bracing against the seat to keep them from tumbling.

What the devil?

Lydia stirred, her hair mussed, her eyes heavy with sleep, her expression adorably groggy. For a moment, Thorn imagined waking up to this sight every morning. Thorn smiled, warmth blooming in his chest.

“What happened?” she murmured, rubbing her eyes, then sat up.

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.” He glanced out the window but could see nothing but rain. “Stay here.”

She frowned, a crease forming between her brows. “What if I can help?”

He smoothed the furrow with the pad of his thumb, savoring the moment before pulling him away. “Then I’ll call for you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then climbed out, stepping into the downpour.

The reason for the halt became obvious at once.

The river ahead had overflowed its banks, flooding the road and making it completely impassable.