Eloping With The Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword)

by Robyn DeHart

  Now, several hours later, fatigue nearly overwhelmed Isabel. She had a mind to tell Jason to simply forget the entire ordeal. But this impromptu wedding wasn’t about her, it was about protecting the Crown of England. She could endure being uncomfortable for a while longer. They’d been riding so long, she ached everywhere. What she wanted more than anything was a nice warm bath and then a soft bed to sink into, but this was to be her wedding night. Certainly, she’d need to be alert for that. She knew a little about what to expect, but only from books and overhearing discussions between school employees a time or two. If only she had talked about this sort of thing with Lilith, but Isabel hadn’t thought marriage was on the horizon for her. Yet here she was, a bride-to-be.

  “I believe we are here,” Jason said.

  “Where is here, precisely?” she asked once they’d stepped down from the rig. A long, white clay building sat in front of them. A black sign boasted hand-painted white letters.

  “The village blacksmith,” Jason said.

  Her heart thundered. Yes, she’d heard about this. Heard about couples running from parents who hadn’t given a marriage blessing. Couples passionately in love who couldn’t wait another moment to be married. Many of the stories were so romantic, she’d nearly forgotten they were true and not fictionalized tales. The Gretna Green village blacksmith was synonymous with desperate marriages—desperately in love or desperately compromised.

  It was hard to imagine that her seemingly insignificant life could prove so vital to the Crown. She felt the weight of responsibility settle around her, a heavy cloak of duty. The honor of it all brought tears to her eyes.

  She grabbed his hand. “You don’t have to do this. I could run, escape somewhere.”

  His eyes met hers. “They would find you. Isabel, it is my duty to protect the Crown. At the moment, that duty calls for me to marry you. This is the right thing to do.” He frowned. “Shall we?”

  Perhaps he’d misread her misty eyes. “Yes. I suppose I should wish I looked a bit better,” she said.

  He merely shrugged and stepped ahead of her. “It’s not a real marriage, Isabel; it matters not how you look.”

  His words, truth or not, sliced right into her. “You’re right, of course,” she said firmly, willing herself to agree. He couldn’t have made it more abundantly clear that he was not attracted to her if he’d simply come out and used those exact words. While she was already quite smitten with him, which was utterly ridiculous. She told herself it was simply because he’d become her champion, rescuing her and being kind to her, although they barely knew each other. She suspected she was a complete ninny and her affection for him ran deeper than was practical.

  It’s not a real marriage, Isabel.

  Real marriage or not, this was her wedding day, the only one she’d ever have, and she was here alone, save her disgruntled bridegroom. He’d agreed to this, but everything about Jason revealed how displeased he was with the entire situation. The muscled tick in his jawline clearly signaled his irritation. His eyes had narrowed in shrewd observance.

  They stepped inside the blacksmith’s shop. The ceiling hung low, giving the room a cave-like appearance. The heat and smell of embers permeated the space. One wedding ceremony was ending, and Isabel felt sharply out of place. Unwilling to intrude upon the other couple’s blatantly romantic moment, she stayed where she was, practically gluing herself to the door. The couple exchanging vows were quite obviously in love, so much so that it seemed to permeate the air around them, rolling off in waves of longing glances and tender smiles.

  They answered the blacksmith’s questions and exchanged rings, and then the couple kissed. Isabel wished she could look away from the sight, but her eyes would not cooperate. The kiss was perfect, the way he cradled her face, the way the pretty girl’s eyes fluttered closed, then the sweetest brush of their lips. Isabel sighed in spite of herself. If she were not careful, Jason would believe he was marrying the silliest of females.

  The other couple’s ceremony concluded, and it was time for her and Jason. The blacksmith asked the newly married couple to act as the witnesses required for the wedding so that his two daughters could return home for the evening. They’d happily agreed, and for the next quarter of an hour, everything seemed to slow down as if time inside this shop moved at a slower rate than the rest of the world. Odd that, considering everyone’s rush to get here.

  The blacksmith instructed her and Jason to place their hands on the anvil. The fire from the simmering coals heated her back and sweat beaded down her spine. The blacksmith “priest” asked if they were there of their own free will. If they were both currently unmarried.

  Jason answered, and Isabel did the same. Then Jason was sliding a golden band onto her left hand. When had Jason had time to procure rings? She’d have to remember to ask him later. The band sat heavy and foreign, and she stared dumbly at it. Then Jason tilted her chin up, bent, and kissed her. His lips pressed to hers, and she leaned in to him, and then it was over. Not nearly the tenderness nor romance of the couple before them.

  This wasn’t a real marriage, she reminded herself. There would be no romance.

  The blacksmith announced them married. Husband and wife.

  She was a wife.

  Chapter Five

  Jason wanted a drink.

  He was married. He’d set out only to protect the girl, and instead he’d eloped with her. Eloped with a princess! How the hell had this happened?

  His mother would be overjoyed. It was a shame he wouldn’t give his mother what she truly wanted from him: an heir to the viscountcy. He knew she didn’t understand his reasons. They’d fought about it ever since he’d discovered the truth about his parentage nearly fourteen years before.

  He eyed his bride sleeping across from him, curled up on the carriage bench. After he’d told her they’d be driving to his estate that night, she’d snuggled up on the seat to get as comfortable as possible. As he watched her, he found himself matching her soft, even breathing. Her skirts had shifted in her slumber, and one delicate and curved calf peeked out.

  Though her clothes were rather ill-fitting, he suspected her body was lean and lithe beneath that ugly wool dress. That would be the first thing they’d have to do once they arrived back in London: send her to get a new wardrobe. He had more than enough money, and if they were going to pull off this charade of a marriage, then Isabel needed not only to dress like a viscountess, but as the princess she truly was.

  An hour later, they finally rolled to a stop at his estate in Northumberland. He assisted a sleepy Isabel down and led her inside. The small staff his family kept here bustled to life at Jason’s appearance. He’d barely said a few words to the housekeeper, including a brief introduction to his new wife, when she whisked Isabel off to what would be her room because the “poor child must be simply exhausted.”

  It had been so long since he’d been here at the estate that he nearly forgot which way he was going as he climbed the staircase.

  “Her ladyship is settled in her bedchamber, my lord,” the housekeeper said with a smile. “She’s right next to your room.”

  He stopped himself before he inquired why she would put Isabel in that room. The adjoining chamber belonged to the viscountess. And Isabel was his wife now. This was their wedding night.

  Wedding night. Damnation, he had not thought this through. He had no intention of touching his bride, especially after that kiss they’d shared at the end of the ceremony. Although it had been relatively chaste, it had certainly whetted his appetite. As had her nearness these last few days. He’d found her mere presence enough to arouse his senses.

  Isabel was beautiful, exotic even, with her olive complexion and pale green eyes. She didn’t seem to realize she was pretty, and not in the feigned way that merely begged for compliments. Isabel seemed to truly not recognize her own beauty, which made him wonder precisely how cruel the other girls likely were to her at school. It had been his experience that jealousy tended to bring out
hatefulness, primarily in women. More than likely they’d teased her about her darker complexion and her striking eyes.

  He stopped outside the door that led to Isabel’s room. He supposed he should at the very least inform Isabel of his plan to return to London in the morning, after they’d rested and had a chance to clean up. They’d been in a carriage for the better part of three days already. Although he was accustomed to such a vigorous life, most people were not, and he knew she must be beyond exhausted. He certainly was.

  He tapped lightly on her bedchamber door.

  “Come in,” she said.

  He opened the door and found her standing in a dressing gown.

  “It’s not mine, but I found it in the armoire. I hope it is all right that I borrowed it,” she hurriedly said.

  “What?”

  “This.” She held out the fabric of the emerald-green dressing gown.

  “Yes, of course. Whatever you need.” He’d been more struck by the sight of her bare feet.

  Her chestnut hair hung loose and fell in a waterfall of dark chocolate down her back. Then the reality of the situation hit him with alarming clarity—she was waiting for him, waiting for their wedding night. Damnation, but she was beautiful. A beautiful and willing woman, his for the taking. His mouth went dry.

  She gave him a shy smile, and his body reacted as if she’d rubbed up against him. This would be more difficult than he expected. Another reason for them to return to London immediately. There he could busy himself with work and forget the fact that he was married to the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes upon.

  She opened her mouth as if to speak but said nothing. Her lips were perfect, full and begging for a kiss. He needed to get out of this room quickly. He cleared his throat and scanned the room, trying to look at anything but her. Think of anything save how much he wanted her right now. “I wanted you to know that tomorrow we’ll begin our return to London instead of staying here at Fenwick Manor. I know we’ve done little else but travel these last few days, and ordinarily we could rest here longer. But under the circumstances, I believe that the sooner everyone knows we are married, the sooner you shall be out of immediate danger,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “When we return, you’ll meet my family. I suspect my mother will want to plan some sort of party in our honor.” Normally he’d be opposed to such festivities, but the louder they announced Isabel’s nuptials, the better.

  She bit down on her bottom lip. “Will they be angry?”

  “Angry?”

  “That we eloped? That you married me without them knowing me or anything about me?”

  “No, they’ll be pleased.” He stopped himself before he reached out and touched her. Even a simple pat on the arm meant only to comfort could prove too tempting for him. “Do not fret, Isabel, my mother’s main fault is only that of loving too much. She is a kind woman.”

  Isabel’s shoulders relaxed, and he wondered briefly what she had seen in her nineteen years to hold such fear.

  “We shall leave in the morning.” He turned to go.

  “Jason,” she said softly, her voice filled with unanswered questions.

  He paused, turned back to face her. “Yes?”

  Her eyes shone with expectancy, despite her exhaustion. And he hated the fact that he couldn’t be the husband she wanted him to be. Again, she bit down on her lip, then sighed. “I hope you sleep well.”

  He bent slightly in a bow. “You as well. I know you must be exhausted.” And then he left. Without kissing her. Without touching her. Perhaps now that Lynford was enchanted with Lady Thornton, Jason could take up the mantle and be called the Priest.

  …

  A viscount’s wife. Somehow that seemed far scarier than discovering she was a long-lost princess. She stared at the closed door and tried to put a name to what she was feeling. Surprise and relief were certainly there, as she’d been told that men could not deny a willing woman, and she’d had no notion of truly what to expect. But something else was there, mingling with those thoughts, something that felt remarkably like disappointment.

  What could she possibly be disappointed about? She’d been saved an evening of unknowns and instead gifted one of rest. She yawned in response, then turned and eyed the large bed that took up most of the room. Whether or not it made any sense, she was disappointed. She blamed the other couple who married before her and Jason. They’d left a whiff of romance in the air of the small blacksmith’s shop. Certainly, that was what had made the kiss she and Jason shared seem more meaningful than it had obviously been.

  Chapter Six

  On the second day after their return to London, Jason sent a messenger to his brother’s home. Patrick and his wife had recently welcomed their second child, a baby girl, and Jason’s mother was staying with them to assist. Jason’s message invited them to an impromptu dinner, telling them it was rather important that they attend.

  They had sent a notice almost immediately, notifying him that they would be there. His mother normally lived at the townhome with him, but Jason had seen her current absence as a welcomed respite considering the way his life had recently been derailed.

  Jason had no doubt that she was helpful, but suspected her desire to help stemmed mostly from wanting to sit and hold her grandchildren. She had been a good mother to him and his brother, but she was an amazing grandmother, always coming up with outlandish games for his nephew to play, telling him stories and singing countless songs. Songs that after a few words and notes, he found himself humming, recognizing them from childhood.

  Dinner would start in less than ten minutes, and he’d been waiting downstairs for Isabel to meet him. He knew his family was already here and had been waiting for him in the dining hall parlor. Earlier today, he’d sent notice to his mother’s favorite dressmaker and requested a gown for Isabel tonight.

  Tomorrow she would go shopping for the rest of her necessities, but for tonight he wanted her to look the part. As she descended the stairs, he instantly recognized that she didn’t disappoint. She most assuredly appeared every part the regal princess she was.

  Her dark hair had been swept into a delicate chignon, and wisps of curls teased her shoulders and framed her face. The ruby necklace he’d sent upstairs along with her gown winked at him. The gown, a deep and bold crimson, was perfect. The velvet bodice molded to her curves, revealing precisely what he’d suspected about her figure; the dress narrowed at her waist, then flared at her rounded hips. The gown was ornate with flounces and ruffles, as was the fashion, but it did not upstage the woman wearing it.

  He held his hand out to her when she reached the bottom of the staircase. “You look lovely.”

  “Thank you. You do as well.” Her mossy green eyes seemed to shimmer along with the rubies at her throat.

  “Shall we?” he asked, holding his arm out to her.

  “Are they here already?”

  “They are.” He looped her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her forward. He’d told her some about his family—they’d had to have something fill the hours of their long journey back to London. He’d primarily covered the basics, their names and aspects of their personalities, but he knew that nothing compared to meeting people. And tonight, everyone was in for a surprise.

  They stepped into the parlor. “Good evening,” he said.

  All eyes turned to face them. His mother’s mouth momentarily dropped, but she quickly recovered and bestowed upon them a genuine smile.

  “Good evening, my dear.” His mother came forward and embraced him, then looked expectantly at Isabel. But Jason did not explain Isabel’s presence. Not yet. He wanted everyone at the table, sitting in a civilized fashion, else his mother might whack him with a decorative pillow. Granted, at the dining room table, she had access to sharp objects.

  “Let us sit, and then I shall make introductions.” He didn’t wait for a response, but rather pulled Isabel with him into the dining room. The scent of roasted quail and warm bread filled the
air. He knew he should have already told his family, his mother in particular. He’d found that sometimes a group setting was the best place to deliver unexpected news.

  “Now then,” Jason said once they were seated and had been served their soup. “Isabel, I should like you to meet my family. This is my mother, Genevieve Ellis, the Dowager Viscountess, and my brother, Patrick, and his wife, Suzanne. Everyone, this is Isabel Ellis, Viscountess. My wife.”

  Patrick had only then taken a swallow of wine, and he immediately spat it out in surprise. Then he settled into a coughing fit, with his wife striking measured beats against his back.

  “Good heavens, Jason, you could have warned us,” his mother said. “Not that we’re disappointed, dear.” She smiled warmly at Isabel. “This introduction is obviously not your doing. Welcome to the family.”

  “Thank you,” Isabel said. Then she turned to Jason and frowned. “I cannot believe you hadn’t already told them,” she said through her teeth.

  He flashed her a smile. “Surprise,” he whispered, then took a heavy swallow of his wine. It was going to be a long evening.

  …

  Isabel prayed that somehow she’d disappear into the plush rug beneath her. But she remained firmly in the heavy wooden chair, sitting next to her scoundrel of a husband and across from her shocked mother-in-law. Sweat beaded along her back, and she fought the urge to retreat. She could do this. She might not have ever expected to be welcomed into an aristocratic family, but she’d certainly sat through the instructions on meeting Society at St. Bart’s.

  What had Jason been thinking? Surprising not only his family of their marriage, but doing so without telling her first. He was obviously trying to torment her. Well, she might feel out of place, but they certainly didn’t need to know that. She straightened herself, aligning her backbone against the hard back of the chair.

  “Jason tells me you recently had a baby. Congratulations,” Isabel said to Suzanne.

  “Yes, thank you. She’s such a quiet little thing. Not at all like her brother was when he was born,” Suzanne said. “He did nothing but wail for hours unless I was feeding him.” She smiled warmly.