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“Why are you smiling? What should we do?”
“Well, we could ask this kind gentleman to marry us without delay, then no one will be able to drag you away.”
“Aye, that would be true,” agreed the Scotsman.
“Oh, but …” She glanced between them.Lord God, what should I do?
“I love you, Theodosia.”
She touched her mottled cheek. “You do not mind this?”
His hand covered hers. “Your cheek looks as if it retains the sweet kiss of a rose. How can I mind that? I loveyou, Theodosia,” he repeated. “I always will, whatever you decide.”
His words, the truth of them, eased the sharp edges of her panic. “You do?”
“I do.”
The words rang around the bedchamber, echoing around the chamber of her heart, as a sense of utter rightness filled the room. “Yes.”
His lips pulled to one side. “Is that an answer?”
“Yes. Yes, it is a yes.” She turned to the tollkeeper. “Please. And hurry.”
“Verra well.” In a manner surprisingly quick for a big man, he bustled them out to the big room and hastily retrieved book and ink. “What do they call ye, my man?”
“My name is Daniel John Balfour.” He threaded his fingers with hers.
“And where div ye come frae?”
“I come from a village called Melksham, in Wiltshire.”
“Weel! I am not familiar with that, but I’ll take yer word for it.”
Silence filled the room, save for the scraping of his pen against the page of what looked to be a register.
“And noo, me bonnie lass, what’s yer name?”
Her chest was tight, but the way the captain regarded her so tenderly only magnified the certainty within her heart. “My name is Theodosia Grace Stapleton, from the parish of Wooler.”
“We be near neighbors, then.” He led them through the vows, much the same as she’d heard in church.
They repeated the Scotsman’s words, promising “to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, till death us do part.”
She then repeated the words appropriate for this location. “And I take all these folks to witness that I declare and acknowledge Daniel John Balfour to be my good man.”
Daniel smiled, and the moment swirled with hope and certainty. This was right, this was good, this was—
“You do what?” a voice cried from the door.
Chapter 27
The door pushed wide with a thunderous crack, revealing Frederick Bellingham’s equally thunderous face as he advanced into the room. “Stop!”
“Nae, man, ye cannae interrupt the most important part,” complained the border priest. “Me man ’ere nae got to kiss the bride.”
So true. Daniel had been longing to know the sweetness of her mouth for weeks now.
“No, he does not!” The squire’s son advanced into the room, cheeks of puce. “How dare you?”
