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He waved at Norman, who was sauntering toward them on the opposite side of the road. Dodging traffic, Ryan hurried over to him.
“I have just seen Wilhelmina and that associate of hers,” Norman reported.
Ryan froze. His heart pounded as he stared at his friend and absorbed what it meant. Deep in the back of his mind the haunting dream raced back into life again.
“Do you think they have her?”
“I don’t think Sian would have gone with them willingly, do you?” Norman snorted.
“The church,” Ryan bit out. “We have to find the church.”
“They won’t marry in St Michael’s,” Norman replied. “The vicar is over there. Look.”
“It has to be another church. Is there one? Is there another church in the town?” Ryan tried to remember but his mind wouldn’t move past the horrible reality that while they were trying to work out where Sian had gone, she was probably being forced into a marriage he couldn’t do anything to break.
He was losing her.
Pelting across the road, Ryan raced up to the vicar, who looked startled to see him.
“Is there another church apart from St Michael’s?” Ryan demanded.
“Why, yes,” the vicar replied.
“Where is it?”
“It’s over on Crombie Street.”
“Where is that?” Ryan demanded.
Norman placed a comforting hand on Ryan’s arm and glared at the vicar. “We are in a hurry.”
“Go to the end of this street. Go right, then take the second left, then third right. The church is half-way-” With a huff, the vicar fell silent and watched the men race down the street without a backward look.
Ryan ran until his chest hurt and he was sure he was going to fall flat on his face. His feet felt weighted. They were so heavy he struggled to put one foot in front of the other, just like he had felt in his dream when bogged down by the muddy field. Eventually, the church appeared and forced him to run again. The heady echo of the steady chime of the church bells heralding the start of a religious service rang in his ears. Each peel of those bells felt like the steady chime of a death; his death; his future’s death. Ryan dreaded what he would find when he got inside.
Norman reached the main church door first, and roughly shoved it open before disappearing inside.
“Stop right there. I object to this wedding,” he bellowed.
Ryan cursed viciously because he knew what was happening. He felt sick, and knew he was facing the ruin of his future. By the time he slammed to a halt in the church aisle, he was panting so heavily he bent over at the waist and braced his hands on his knees just so he could remain on his feet. He stared in horror at the couple standing at the aisle, both of whom had turned around to look at who was objecting to their union.
He almost wept when he saw that the bride wasn’t Sian after all.
“It’s not her,” Norman hissed. “It isn’t them.”
“Might I ask what the problem is?” the vicar demanded as he scurried down the aisle. Had anybody else interrupted the wedding he would have been furious and had them thrown out on their ear. But this was Lord Carson. Nobody threw him anywhere without risking social ruin. “My Lord?”
“Have you married anybody else this morning?” Ryan demanded.
“No, sir.”
“Have you been approached by anybody about conducting a ceremony for a young woman called Sian Mullen?”
“Well, yes, but the lady and the groom didn’t arrive. I had to carry on with this service,” the vicar explained.
“Did they give you the requisite paperwork?”
The vicar looked shifty.
