They whirled around to see a broad man wearing a leather apron stained with soot and sweat.
He wiped his brow with his hairy forearm before continuing. “Ye’ve come to Gretna Green. Yer here at me shop. I’ve got to put a shoe on a horse afore long, but if you can be quick about it, I’vegot the time.” The blacksmith turned and swaggered back in at such a pace they had no choice but to follow quickly.
The heart of his shop was the forge, a fiery spot where the smith shaped metal on a solid anvil surrounded by an assortment of mystifying tools. The air smelled of burning coal and heated metal. Finished products lined the shelves—horseshoes, tools, and intricate ironwork—showcasing his skill. It was a busy but organized space, much like the aura of the man himself.
“First things first.” The blacksmith wiped his sooty hands on his leather apron. “Ye have my payment?”
“Yes, right here.” Tuck handed over a guinea.
The blacksmith gave it a small bite before examining it. “Don’t see many of these anymore.”
Georgie had money stowed away all over her house like some kind of dragon. She didn’t part with much, so it was no surprise that some of her currency was on the verge of being outdated.
The blacksmith took their names and beckoned them to stand on either side of the anvil before clearing his throat. “Do ye, Tucker Taylor, and do ye, Elizabeth Wooddash, declare ye wish to be joined in marriage?” He gave them both an expectant look. “This is theI dopart.”
“Oh, right.” Tuck nodded. “I do.”
“I do as well,” Lizzy whispered before immediately wanting to cover her face.As well.Why couldn’t she do the same as Tuck, speak the words loud and confident?
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
The only noise was the crackle of the fire.
The blacksmith gave them a look that indicated he was beginning to find them both feeble-minded. “That’s it. Our business is done. Be fruitful and multiply and all that.”
Within a few seconds, Lizzy was blinking out in the Scottish sunlight, Tuck, her husband, next to her.
“That was quicker than I expected,” he muttered, a trifle dazed.
“Yes, remarkably efficient.”
“All the more time to shoe the horses,” Tuck rejoined, sending them both into peals of laughter before he paused, frowning slightly. “Shit. I didn’t give you the ring. It was over too quickly.” He reached into his pocket and pulled them out—two plain gold bands. “Do we just do it here?”
“I—I’m not sure.” Lizzy glanced about the bustling village street. “We should wait,” she decided at once. “I feel as if we’re already attracting enough attention.” To be sure, most women who passed by gave Tuck a lingering glance. She didn’t want those same women watching her exchange rings outside of a blacksmith shop. They might think she was desperate. And right now the only thing she was desperate for was a hot meal. She’d skipped breakfast and needed her belly full so that her brain could think.
They ordered at the inn and waited, uncertain in each other’s presence.
Lizzy spoke first. “You spent the evening down here, I presume?”
He gave her a blank stare.
“You were, after all, very inebriated last night.”
A whisper of regret crossed his features. “I was, yes. And no. I didn’t stay here. I bought a bottle at the bar and went outside. I found a hill at the edge of town and sat drinking and looking at the stars. At some point I fell asleep, and when I came to, sheep surrounded me. I don’t know who was more confused, but I took it as my cue to return.”
“Remember, Mr....” She shook her head, correcting herself. “Tuck. This isn’t real. You aren’t signing your life away to me.Imagine we are two actors in a play.” Her smile went rueful. “A Shakespeare one. Two dirty jokes strung between bits of plot.”
He blinked. “We’re not real.”
She couldn’t tell if he was asking a question or making a statement. So, she decided to answer. “We’re not real,” she repeated with all the conviction she could muster. Because those kisses last night were the realest things she’d ever known. She still tasted him on her lips and smelled his scent on her clothing. “But we are legal.”
His lips quirked. “You’re ruthless.”
“I prefer practical.”
“And once you get rid of me, tell me how you see yourself living your best life.”
A serving girl brought out their meals. As she stared into her soup, something deep inside her cracked at the thought of him leaving. Was this the power of a few kisses? Did some tendrils of connection forge into each other so that the idea of separation couldn’t be without a whisper of pain? “I—I will live at the Woodlands. I will wake and sleep when I choose, pay visits or entertain at my liking, and I will try to write a book.”
