Page 49 of To Honor

“There they are.”

Gareth and Eamon, as they’d done the day before, came through the thicket together. This time, she did not wait for her father’s permission but instead ran to Gareth, tossing her arms around him. He held on tight, and she did not wish to let go.

“We must hurry,” Eamon said.

Separating herself from Gareth, she ran to her father instead. Though she did not know what he thought of their altered plan, one thing was clear. He was not wroth with her, even after what she’d done. Evelina hugged Eamon tight, thanking him.

“What would we do without you?”

He pulled away. “Likely the same thing you are planning now. I cannot be gone long, so we must be away.”

“You will do it?”

He did not seem pleased. “I will.”

“My maid will join us. I fear repercussions for her otherwise.”

Eamon nodded to Amalia. “Very well.”

“Come,” Gareth said, taking her hand. “Quickly.”

It was not until near nightfall, after their party had ridden all day, that their destination came into view. Though they did not need the permission of a priest—Evelina and Gareth could marry in any location by simply exchanging vows—they’d all agreed, if possible, the presence of one was preferable. Getting married was easy. Proving said marriage could be more difficult, even with Eamon and Amalia as witness.

Kindridge Moor was as good a town as any. Large enough for Gareth and Evie not to be noticed as newcomers, close enough for Eamon to bear witness and return to Castle Blackwood, it boasted both a monastery and small chapel. They agreed to start with the priest, who Eamon knew from passing through the town before. He was sympathetic to Empress Matilda and therefore may also be sympathetic to their cause.

“Father Percival is old,” he said. “And likely abed. But I cannot wait to return until morn.”

“If we cannot find him,” Gareth said, “we go to the monastery instead.”

Though they were stopped at the town’s gates, their party passed through easily enough. Nestled among rolling hills, the entire town was surrounded by a stone wall punctuated by watchtowers and guarded gateways. They rode through the narrow and winding streets flanked by timber-framed houses with thatched roofs. At its center, a cobblestone path led to a stone fountain adorned with carved mythical creatures.

“This way.” Eamon turned, leading them down yet another narrow road. It opened eventually to a small chapel, smaller than Evelina would have expected for a town of this size, and he bid them wait. “I will be back.”

Dismounting, Gareth aided both her and Amalia and led all three of their mounts to a hitching post near the darkened chapel.

“I’m sorry,” he said, coming back to them.

“Why?” she asked.

Amalia looked at Gareth much as she had all day. As if she did not know quite what to think. Evelina understood. Since last eve, her mind was a thunderstorm of clouds and thunder, and she hoped only that calm would follow.

“I do not imagine this is what you hoped your wedding to be. In a strange town with few witnesses in the dark of night.”

As Amalia fumbled through one of the saddlebags, Evelina addressed Gareth’s concern.

“I imagined my wedding to be arranged by my father, the groom a stranger to me. Not one day of my life had I hoped to marry a man I love. So if you are sorry for the gown I’m wearing”—she gestured to a gown that was lovely, even if it was not designed for her wedding—“or the lack of a feast or any other thing that matters naught to me, please do not be.”

Gareth pulled her into his arms. “I love you more every day, Evie.” He whispered into her ear, “And though this was not our plan, you will be my wife this eve. Do you know what that means?”

She did indeed and had thought about it each time she caught him looking at her as they rode. Or when his hand grazed hers as their horses fed beside each other when they stopped earlier.

“I do,” she whispered back.

“This is the couple, then?”

They spun, Gareth dropping his hand from her waist.

An elderly man, white hair well below his shoulders, stood next to her father. He looked as if he had indeed been roused from his bed.