“Ugly heart? That doesn’t sound very poetic.”
“But it’s true.” She pressed her lips to his ear. “Real hearts aren’t happy all the time. And they aren’t perfect. They get angry, envy, hunger for more, and still crave. But we are all beautiful in our ugly little ways as well. At least that is what I think.”
Chapter Fifteen
Gretna Green. They had arrived.
Lizzy stepped out of the stagecoach and paused. For a moment, she half expected to wake up and discover that the events of the past few days had been nothing more than a vivid dream. However, as her feet touched solid ground and she felt Tuck’s hand in hers, it confirmed the reality of the situation.
“Thank you,” she murmured, quickly shaking herself loose and lifting her dress hem from the muddy road.
“I’ve never been to Scotland.” Tuck lifted their bags, ready to take them to their final destination, the Jigging Stallion. “I kind of expected more kilts.”
“We are only two miles over the border.” She glanced around. Everyone seemed more or less to look like people in England. “Does that fact disappoint you?” she asked, following him into the inn.
“My mom’s maiden name was McLaughlin—Scottish, obviously. At Christmas, she covers the house with tartan—no surface is free of it.”
“Are you close to your mother? You don’t speak of her.” Lizzy couldn’t help but wonder about Tuck’s family. It seemed so strange for him to have a father, mother, and sister somewhereout there, lost in time. A pang of unexpected sadness hit her as she realized she’d never meet them, never see where he came from, never understand what he meant by his mother covering the house in tartan.
“We talk on rare occasions—like her birthday or a holiday.” Tuck’s jaw tightened, his words measured. “Not as much as she’d like, but...”
When he fell silent, she gently nudged him with her elbow. “But?”
“But nothing. I’m busy.” There was a hardness in his tone that made it clear additional questions would not be welcome.
Once they settled into their room, Lizzy’s mind raced. Tomorrow they would be wed.
“The river seemed pleasant,” she said. “I’d very much enjoy a walk and some fresh air, if you don’t mind.”
He nodded, seemingly as desperate to escape the confined room as she was.
Outside, the streets of Gretna Green were quiet, nothing like the illicit stories Lizzy had overhead whispered about the corners of drawing rooms or at balls. Tales of young lovers racing to the border, outraged fathers in pursuit, horses foaming at the mouth, eyes rolling, as they were pushed past their endurance.
Women walked laden with baskets for shopping, and a few children raced past brandishing a paper boat, seemingly intent to drop it into the creek. The buildings were painted white, and low hills were covered in lush grass. It felt more like the sort of place one would go to rest than to give themselves over to forbidden passion.
“Why exactly is this a place for eloping?” Tuck asked, echoing her thoughts. “In my time, we have a city known for fast weddings. It’s called Las Vegas. I guess I was expecting more of that sort of energy.”
“Las Vegas?” She frowned. “Oh, that’s Spanish for... let me see. The meadows! How lovely. It must be very green like this.”
He gaped at her. “You speak Spanish?”
“Badly. My French is passable. My Spanish is worse. My German is abominable. But I’ve tried to study when I have the time and find the books. One of my dreams is to travel. This is the first time I’ve ever been outside of England, so you are helping me realize this.”
“You are full of surprises, but also no, Las Vegas is no meadow. It’s a desert. People come from all over the world to gamble there, and you can get married in a drive-through.” He didn’t even wait for her to ask. “It would be similar to you pulling up in a carriage to be wed.”
“It sounds very convenient.”
He shrugged. “I guess it saves time.”
“Are you very rushed?” she asked.
“In my time? Ha! There is no time. Everything happens quickly and people are always searching for the fastest ways to do most things.”
Lizzy turned to the creek and watched two ducks float past. “That sounds exhausting.”
“I didn’t realize how tired I was until I stopped. Days here feel much longer.” A distant look crept into his eyes and a silence grew before he finally glanced over. “Off topic, but I’ve wondered—why do blacksmiths marry people here?”
“I don’t know all the rules and laws, but at some point, England changed the laws so that people under the age of twenty-one couldn’t marry without parental consent. There isn’t a similarlaw in Scotland, so young lovers flee here to be handfasted. In this country, you are considered married if you declare it so in front of a witness. And apparently the clever blacksmiths around here saw an opportunity to make some extra coin by serving as the official witness. It doesn’t have to be a blacksmith, though. It could be a fisherman, or even a horse saddler.”
