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“It’s barely dawn,” she said between the laughs, trying to catch her breath. “Normal people are asleep at this hour, and we’re banging—” Evie couldn’t finish the sentence. Her breathing grew heavy. “If anybody sees us like this, they’ll assume we’re robbing them.”
Evie leaned her back against the cold stone of the building next to the door and finally caught her breath.
“Gabriel,” she said, and he looked at her quizzically. “What if they catch us in the meantime?” She tried to frown, but she was too tired to exhibit any emotion except for nervous laughter.
“We’ll just tell them we’re already married.” He shrugged and mirrored her pose next to her. “Don’t worry about that, sweet. I’ll get us properly married.” One side of his mouth kicked up in a smile.
They looked at the small cottages of the village, the beautiful greenery covering them, the sun rising slowly above their roofs. It was a beautiful morning.
“Did you ever think this was how you were going to get married?” Evie asked, staring straight ahead.
“To be honest with you, I thought I would never marry.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t have many good examples of a marriage, I guess. Besides, after cuckolding as many husbands as I have, believing in the sanctity of marital vows…” He grimaced. “Besides, I was never eager to beget an heir. I’d hoist the title onto my cousins if I could.”
Evie could not imagine not caring for her lands. She loved all of her grandfather’s properties and the lands surrounding them. She cared for the villagers, the animals, and the gardens. She couldn’t imagine not having that, living constantly in London’s social world. As much as she loved the dancing and entertainment London offered, she couldn’t live without the freedom the country granted her and the intimacies of knowing her neighbors.
“Your father might have disagreed with it,” she said.
“Oh, he would.” Gabriel nodded with a bitter grimace on his face. “His land, estates, and horses are all he cares about. I am just a tool to look after all that after he dies.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” she countered softly.
“And I am sure you don’t know my father.” He stepped away from the wall. “All right, we can stand here till the cows come home. Or, we can go to the inn, clean up and return at a more decent hour.” He dusted off his pants, avoiding her gaze.
“I want to get married as soon as the blacksmith gets here,” Evie said with a frown.
“And if we’re being pursued, do you want to be caught out on the streets with nowhere to hide?” he asked irritably.
“No need to be snippy,” Evie grumbled as Gabriel went to untether the horse.
He looked both ways before deciding on the direction and walked toward the heart of the village.
“Do you even know where we are going?” Evie asked, following on his heels.
“No, but I don’t think we have much of a choice. It’s either forward or backward, and we are not going back. Besides, if this place is as notorious for its elopements as we were led to believe, there are bound to be plenty of inns.”
* * *
Gabriel’s guess turned out to be correct. They found an inn rather quickly. The village of Gretna Green was not very big but picturesque. The inn they stumbled upon had only one room left. Since they were not planning to spend the night in it, Gabriel decided it was fine for both of them to occupy it for a few hours before they wed.
They refreshed themselves quickly, just washing off the grime from the road with wet cloths, wiping the dust off their clothes, and cleaning their boots. It didn’t do much good, but Evie didn’t want to change and sully the only relatively clean gown she had left. True, it was her wedding day, but she was so dirty it didn’t really matter what she wore. She braided her hair as Gabriel ordered them some breakfast.
Evie was too nervous to be hungry, but she knew she needed strength to get through it all, so she chewed reluctantly.
Once they were done with breakfast, they went to the smithy again. And several short minutes later, Evie was standing toe to toe with Gabriel St. Clare, holding his hand and looking into his solemn blue eyes. Recalling her romanticized notions of a grand wedding to the man she loved, she was tempted to laugh again.
She always dreamed of an emerald-green gown to match her eyes, a pearl necklace, and a coronet. Instead, she was wearing the worst of the three gowns she brought with her on the journey. It was dirty at the hem and dusty everywhere else. Since the simple wipe-off didn’t really clean it, it was difficult to even recall what color it was.
Instead of a huge procession and a priest at the St. Paul’s cathedral, they stood in a tiny smithy, with no one but a huge Scot in front of them. His hands were as big as hammers; his ginger beard was long and thick. He looked formidable with a frown marring his face.
No, this wasn’t her dream wedding. But at least she was getting her dream man.
Evie concentrated on the face of the man she’d traveled over three hundred miles to marry. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face sullen. But a light smirk played about his lips. Evie smiled lightly. She wasn’t making a mistake, was she?
“Do you have rings?” the blacksmith asked.
