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Chapter Four
Shelene was a true beauty, and worth every moment he’d had to wait to see her standing in front of a minister. He’d not planned to say his vows in French, or for that matter, marry anyplace but St. George’s in London. Mother would give him an earful when she saw him next, for encouraging such a shoddy affair. English dukes’ sons did not marry in obscurity.
Or in France.
He, who dealt in the harsh realities of life, knew that such opportunities were not to be missed. The circumstances weren’t ideal, and the realities of his past gnawed at his common sense, but Shelene had said yes.
And he’d never been happier as the minister intoned the final words and Shelene responded.
“Oui, I do,” she said. There was a look in her gaze that implored him to keep his word. To be the faithful, loving husband of her maidenly fantasies. To abandon his current mistress, England, and be faithful only to her.
He bent to kiss her, a quick peck that would offend no one’s sensibilities.
And it was done.
Shelene was his wife.
And he would not touch her until he knew he could be a real husband to her. The idea was bad on its face. There was still Belgrano to consider, and the trip to Argentina, but at least Roman would have provided for her. And that made him happier still.
Undoubtedly, her parents had designated a guardian for her, and that honored person would reside in Spain. Her heart was there, and he’d always known that is where she would spend the majority of her life. He’d made plans to spend his life in Spain as well. But he was her husband now, and her safety and happiness was in his hands.
Martina hugged Shelene, then turned to him. “Oh,señor. This is a wonderful day.”
“Indeed, it is,” he responded. She clasped his hand then pressed her dry lips to the back of it, her kiss fervent and pleading. She urged God’s blessing upon him and Shelene, along with the hope for a quiver full of children. The little dark-headed arrows would have to wait.
Joaquin, Martina’s son, also shook his hand and smiled, a wry grin. Wishful, considering his youth and the fleshly needs that went with age. Roman clapped him on the back.
So, this was his family now. Shelene and her entourage. There were others, of course, still in Spain. Those he had known for years but gave up because he and Shelene could not find common ground.
A month ago, he would have said it was all but impossible. Maybe he was wrong, and they had changed. Maybe the time apart had made them realize the wonderful truth. They were not meant to be apart.
Signatures were applied to the license and church registry. Goodbyes and thank-yous were dispensed, and Shelene clutched his arm as they walked from the church.
Roman quelled the fear of the upcoming journey and what it might mean for them. In the recesses of his heart, he knew the truth. Oliver and Commodore Hightower were dead, but he had to ask those last few questions before his mind accepted the truth. And Belgrano? He would not harm Shelene, but he would certainly do his worst against Roman, and that he must prevent. Besides, Belgrano was not the primary objective, and Bathurst had relieved him of the hard duty of capturing the man and returning him to Spain.
However, he hadeveryintention of returning to Spain with his new bride.
Shelene stopped and turned to stare into his eyes. “I love you, and I will until I draw my last breath.”
Roman wrapped his arms about her waist and lifted her, kissing her fully on the lips in sight of all Brest. She flung her hands about his neck, and he turned her full circle before setting her to her feet again. Breathless. Excited.
Ready to start their life together. Ready to challenge fate to do its worst.
* * * * *
The masted ship bobbed on the water, ready to take them on their journey of discovery. Shelene might have been excited about the prospect except for the words Roman had just announced. They stood on the dock, about to proceed up the ship’s squeaky wooden ramp. With the cacophony around the ship, she wasn’t sure she heard Roman correctly.
“What do you mean?”
“You are sharing a cabin with Martina.”
“Martina?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
