The Lords of Kendal Manor

Chapter 20

~ Brathwaite, Westmorland, 21 October 1815. ~

The weather remained relatively steady for them as they travelled north, but Lachlan began to worry that their reprieve was coming to an end. Especially now, they were travelling through the hills and valleys of the Lake District.

Waking with Charlotte was difficult, yet not for the reasons he first envisaged since the last three nights were comforting. He never thought her presence in his arms would prove comforting had they not been forced to endure this venture.

She was snuggled upon him in the pose they woke to each morning. His erection pushed into her knee, her arm was draped across his chest, and her warm breath tickled his neck.

Each night was easier to sleep with her, and falling into oblivion last night was the easiest of all, and now he dreaded the end of their journey.

Their conversation became easier also, beyond his morning quietude, and whilst he rarely told her his haunting memories, he discussed elements of France that he missed, such as Sebastien and his farm. The easy camaraderie of the workers and Sebastien's sisters. He did not mention his intimate connection with Audrey.

She told him about her days as a companion, her efforts with his father, who fell into a fit of depression, following the announced death of his youngest son, and the loss of Catherine, Alex's first wife.

He pointed out animals and crops he could see himself farming at times yet fell short of suggesting she could join him.

And now, he anticipated this would be their last day. Twenty-five miles, although it was through steep terrain.

And because it might be his last chance, he lifted his head and kissed her forehead.

"Wake up, Charlotte." He cooed.

"I'm already awake, and you kissed my forehead." She announced.

Huffing and breaking into a smirk, he looked at her face swinging to greet him. He truly wanted to kiss her mouth, but they needed to rise. Today, they needed to arrive at their destination, and his humour was always absent in the mornings. Best he used it to control his horse on a rough ride.

"Do you think they'll be there, having the faster route?" She asked.

"No." He replied. Lifting his arm behind his head to keep him elevated and capable of looking at her.

In truth, he expected His Grace would need to spend more time in London to assess the proceedings for his homicidal offspring. Additionally, his mother indicated she'd not tolerate a speedy return to Kendal so soon, although she may change her mind upon discovering their departure the following morning.

In his mind, she'd seen him already, and although she'd be swift, she'd not break herself in returning to Westmorland.

He'd be alone with Charlotte, perhaps without servants even, for days.

A smile formed upon his lips.

"What are you smiling at?" She asked, her eyes big and curious.

"How can you see me at this darkened hour?" He countered.

"Are you having a joke at my expense?" She redirected. "The morning is upon us. The sky is lightening, although those clouds look dreadful." She proposed, pointing out from under their canopy. The foggy nature of drizzle was dampening everything, and he knew, without doubt, they were due a miserable day in the saddle.

"Come on." He began, sitting and allowing her body to fall by the wayside.

Their cosy nook had served them well each night, and he understood it had nurtured their companionability too. He was finally comfortable having her in his space.