Page 21 of Eloping With The Princess
She eyed him warily. “I hadn’t considered that by marrying me, I would put someone in danger. I cannot allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.”
“I am the perfect candidate since I am properly trained for such things. I can protect myself.” He shrugged and ignored the men who continued to yell. “Besides, your logic makes a certain amount of sense. Even if your marriage wouldn’t deter the traitors forever, it will most assuredly buy us some much-needed time,” he said. Then he motioned to the men who were shouting disapprovingly. “Unless, of course you’d prefer one of them.”
Her exotic green eyes met his, and for the briefest of seconds, it felt as if they were the only two in the room. “I’d much rather prefer you.”
She wrapped her arms around him, and he lifted her from the table and out of the common room. The other men continued to yell, but Jason ignored them.
Damnation. What had he just promised to do?
…
After a restless night in which Isabel got very little sleep, she and Jason climbed back into the carriage and headed north to Scotland. She had lain in the bed and listened to Jason breathing, knowing that soon they’d be husband and wife. Nerves had eaten at her all evening. They were traveling directly to Gretna Green, the first village over the Scottish border and the most popular place for couples to elope.
She was putting him in danger simply by him marrying her and protecting her. Yes, he was trained. Still, she was unsure if she should allow him to fall on this particular sword, just for her. Perhaps she should instead persuade him to pay her passage on a ship and sail somewhere that no one would ever find her.
Now, several hours later, fatigue nearly overwhelmed Isabel. She had a mind to tell Jason to simply forget the entire ordeal. But this impromptu wedding wasn’t about her, it was about protecting the Crown of England. She could endure being uncomfortable for a while longer. They’d been riding so long, she ached everywhere. What she wanted more than anything was a nice warm bath and then a soft bed to sink into, but this was to be her wedding night. Certainly, she’d need to be alert for that. She knew a little about what to expect, but only from books and overhearing discussions between school employees a time or two. If only she had talked about this sort of thing with Lilith, but Isabel hadn’t thought marriage was on the horizon for her. Yet here she was, a bride-to-be.
“I believe we are here,” Jason said.
“Where is here, precisely?” she asked once they’d stepped down from the rig. A long, white clay building sat in front of them. A black sign boasted hand-painted white letters.
“The village blacksmith,” Jason said.
Her heart thundered. Yes, she’d heard about this. Heard about couples running from parents who hadn’t given a marriage blessing. Couples passionately in love who couldn’t wait another moment to be married. Many of the stories were so romantic, she’d nearly forgotten they were true and not fictionalized tales. The Gretna Green village blacksmith was synonymous with desperate marriages—desperately in love or desperately compromised.
It was hard to imagine that her seemingly insignificant life could prove so vital to the Crown. She felt the weight of responsibility settle around her, a heavy cloak of duty. The honor of it all brought tears to her eyes.
She grabbed his hand. “You don’t have to do this. I could run, escape somewhere.”
His eyes met hers. “They would find you. Isabel, it is my duty to protect the Crown. At the moment, that duty calls for me to marry you. This is the right thing to do.” He frowned. “Shall we?”
Perhaps he’d misread her misty eyes. “Yes. I suppose I should wish I looked a bit better,” she said.
He merely shrugged and stepped ahead of her. “It’s not a real marriage, Isabel; it matters not how you look.”
His words, truth or not, sliced right into her. “You’re right, of course,” she said firmly, willing herself to agree. He couldn’t have made it more abundantly clear that he was not attracted to her if he’d simply come out and used those exact words. While she was already quite smitten with him, which was utterly ridiculous. She told herself it was simply because he’d become her champion, rescuing her and being kind to her, although they barely knew each other. She suspected she was a complete ninny and her affection for him ran deeper than was practical.
It’s not a real marriage, Isabel.
Real marriage or not, this was her wedding day, the only one she’d ever have, and she was here alone, save her disgruntled bridegroom. He’d agreed to this, but everything about Jason revealed how displeased he was with the entire situation. The muscled tick in his jawline clearly signaled his irritation. His eyes had narrowed in shrewd observance.
They stepped inside the blacksmith’s shop. The ceiling hung low, giving the room a cave-like appearance. The heat and smell of embers permeated the space. One wedding ceremony was ending, and Isabel felt sharply out of place. Unwilling to intrude upon the other couple’s blatantly romantic moment, she stayed where she was, practically gluing herself to the door. The couple exchanging vows were quite obviously in love, so much so that it seemed to permeate the air around them, rolling off in waves of longing glances and tender smiles.
They answered the blacksmith’s questions and exchanged rings, and then the couple kissed. Isabel wished she could look away from the sight, but her eyes would not cooperate. The kiss was perfect, the way he cradled her face, the way the pretty girl’s eyes fluttered closed, then the sweetest brush of their lips. Isabel sighed in spite of herself. If she were not careful, Jason would believe he was marrying the silliest of females.
The other couple’s ceremony concluded, and it was time for her and Jason. The blacksmith asked the newly married couple to act as the witnesses required for the wedding so that his two daughters could return home for the evening. They’d happily agreed, and for the next quarter of an hour, everything seemed to slow down as if time inside this shop moved at a slower rate than the rest of the world. Odd that, considering everyone’s rush to get here.
The blacksmith instructed her and Jason to place their hands on the anvil. The fire from the simmering coals heated her back and sweat beaded down her spine. The blacksmith “priest” asked if they were there of their own free will. If they were both currently unmarried.
Jason answered, and Isabel did the same. Then Jason was sliding a golden band onto her left hand. When had Jason had time to procure rings? She’d have to remember to ask him later. The band sat heavy and foreign, and she stared dumbly at it. Then Jason tilted her chin up, bent, and kissed her. His lips pressed to hers, and she leaned in to him, and then it was over. Not nearly the tenderness nor romance of the couple before them.
This wasn’t a real marriage, she reminded herself. There would be no romance.
The blacksmith announced them married. Husband and wife.
She was a wife.
Chapter Five
