by Joan Wolf
“I think about seven,” she said.
He yawned hugely. “I’ll dress and we can get some breakfast.”
Poor Simon. Suddenly Claire felt very motherly. “Did you get any sleep at all on that trip?”
“A little,” he said.
Claire didn’t believe him.
His blue eyes gazed seriously into her brown ones. “Claire, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry in my entire life.”
She gave him a tender smile. “Get dressed, and we’ll go downstairs for breakfast.”
# # #
They were stuffing themselves with eggs and sausage when a sturdy-looking young man with sandy hair and freckles approached. “I be Joe Mason and I heard you’re lookin’ to get to Gretna Green.”
Simon put down his fork. “That’s right. Can you take us?”
“Yep. That’s why I’m here. My uncle marries people in Gretna. Do you be wantin’ his services?”
“Yes,” Simon said. “We want to be married as quickly as possible.”
“Well, my uncle can do the job for you.”
Claire continued to eat while Simon and Joe discussed money. Joe left to get his chaise and horses, and Claire said to Simon, “Why did you ask him to wait and return us here? I thought there were rooms in Gretna Green.”
He was a little embarrassed as he answered, “I’ve been thinking … I don’t want to spend my wedding night with you in a bed where who knows how many other people have spent theirs. I’d rather stay here at the inn. It’s more … respectable.”
“Oh,” she said, deeply touched by his sentiment.
He sighed. “Wouldn’t it be perfect if we could take a wedding trip? We could drive all around Scotland, just the two of us.”
“It would cost too much money,” Claire said regretfully. “And my parents would be too worried.”
“True.” He gave her a rueful look and admitted, “I’ve already spent almost half the allowance money Uncle Richard gave me.”
Claire reached her hand across the table and he took it into his and held it tightly. She said fiercely, “Let’s concentrate on getting married. Once we do that, we’ll be bound together by a tie no one can break. Ever.”
He raised her hand to his lips, opened it, kissed her palm and folded her fingers over the kiss. He said very softly, “I love you with every part of my being.”
Something deep inside her trembled at the kiss, at the tone of his voice. “And I love you the same way,” she whispered.
As they looked at each other, the noise and bustle of the inn faded into silence. For a brief, out of time moment, there was only the two of them, holding hands, looking deeply into each other’s eyes and seeing love.
“We’ve always belonged to each other,” Claire said softly. “We’re just making it legal.”
He nodded, blinked, and said, “I had better reserve a room for us before we leave.”
She took her hand back. “Yes.” She smiled at him as the excitement bubbled up inside her. “I am so happy, Simon!”
He was looking serious. “I am too. And I will be even happier once we have that paper in our hands.” He regarded her empty plate. “Have you had enough to eat?”
“Yes.”
“Then we had better be going.”
They stood and Simon took her arm as they went to reserve a room for the coming night.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Joe Mason and his team of horses moved briskly along the main road. It was a fine, clear day, with only a few high white clouds interrupting the deep blue of the sky. Claire sat on the single seat between Joe and Simon, her chest so tight with a mixture of excitement and fear she thought she might explode. She had to struggle not to keep glancing behind them, terrified she’d see one of their fathers racing after them. If the earl had come after them he would have taken his coach, and he wouldn’t have had to stop to deliver the mail. Or her da may have hired a coach.
She didn’t say anything to Simon about her fear. He seemed quite certain that they had enough of a head start, and she was confident he was right. But still…and she glanced over her shoulder one more time.
After they had been on the road for several hours, they crossed a wooden bridge spanning a small river. As the horses came off the bridge onto solid land, Joe turned to his passengers with a grin. “Now ye’re in Scotland.”
Claire let out a long breath. “How much longer to Gretna Green?”
“About three-quarter mile.”
And indeed it wasn’t long until the horses turned into a narrow road, which led them into a small village. At first sight Gretna Green was not very prepossessing. In fact, it looked positively poverty stricken. Claire stared at the scattering of small clay houses in surprise; she had expected a village similar to the one at home. Before she could speak, however, Joe pointed his finger at a tiny church ahead on their left. “That‘s the kirk,” he said. “The house next to it belongs to Mr. Elliot. He’s the one who’ll marry you.”
“Will we be married in the church?” Claire asked.
“Naw, Mr. Elliot does the marriages at the inn.”
Joe proceeded to steer the horses to the front of a stalwart looking brick building a quarter of a mile past the kirk and said, “If you and the lady go on inside, sir, I’ll fetch Mr. Elliot for ye.”
Simon jumped down from the high seat, lifted his hands, put them around Claire’s waist, and swung her to the ground. When her feet touched the hard dirt road, Claire looked up the road again. Her heart was racing and she slipped her hand into Simon’s as they walked up the few steps that led into the inn. The warmth of his fingers closing around hers felt reassuringly familiar.
The room inside was decorated like a parlor, with pictures on the walls and four chairs grouped in front of the empty fireplace. There was a taproom, but it was tucked into a corner, away from the main room. Even so, Claire could see several men sitting at a table.
“Would you like to sit down while we wait?” Simon asked her.
Claire looked at the dark, uninviting chairs and said, “No.”
Simon nodded and the two of them stood in front of the empty grate, holding tightly onto each other’s hand. Claire’s heart was beating so loudly she could actually hear it. She shut her eyes and prayed: Please, God, please, don’t let anything stop us. We’ve come so far. We love each other so much…please…
The inn door opened and a man came in, followed by Joe. As they approached, Claire looked warily at the so-called priest who was to marry them. She hadn’t known what to expect, and, to her relief, he appeared to be perfectly ordinary in his black frock coat and fawn colored trousers. When he came up to them she saw a pleasant looking man with a round face and trimmed brown beard. He exuded a sense of agreeableness she found reassuring.
“Well, well,” Mr. Elliot said, after they had introduced themselves. “I imagine you youngsters are in a hurry and there’s no reason to keep you waiting. Joe, you can be one of the witnesses, and if you’ll fetch George from the taproom, he can be the other one.” As Joe moved off, Mr. Elliot turned to Simon. “While Joe is fetching the second witness, young man, you and I can discuss my fee.”
“Of course,” Simon said, as naturally as if he did this sort of thing all the time. “If you’ll just tell me what you charge?”
“It depends.” The priest cast a calculating look over them both, and Claire realized he was estimating how much he might be able to get.
“We’re not rich, Mr. Elliot,” she said resolutely. “We spent half of our money getting here, and we have to keep enough to get home.”
Mr. Elliot lifted an eyebrow. “Mmmm. May I ask by what means you traveled?”
“We were passengers on the Royal Mail,” Simon answered. “It was the quickest transport I could find. We got on in Cambridge and off in Carlisle, so the tickets were expensive.”
“I see. So you’re throwing yourselves upon my mercy, eh?”
The good humor never faded from the priest’s face, which gave Cl
aire some hope he would be reasonable.
Simon sighed. “I suppose we are, sir. I think I can spare twenty pounds. Will that do?”
Twenty pounds? Claire gave Simon an alarmed look. If Richard Jarvis didn’t come that wouldn’t leave them enough money to buy tickets on the Mail home.
Elliot saw the look. “All right, lad, I’ll take your twenty pounds. Now follow me and I’ll show you the room we use for weddings.”
The priest took them to a door at the far end of the room, opened it and gestured them in.
The ‘wedding room’ was small and stark. The only furniture it contained was a single square wood table set in front of a narrow fireplace, and a long trestle table placed under a small window. The square table held a thick open book, which Claire assumed to be a bible. Half of the trestle table was covered with individual stacks of paper, while the other half was bare save for a pen and inkstand.
“We might as well get the first part of the marriage business done while we wait for the witnesses,” Mr. Elliot said, leading them toward the trestle table. He plucked a form from one of the piles, appropriated the only chair for himself, and sat at the table while they stood beside him. He picked up the pen and held it poised over the paper in front of him.
“Legal name, please, and place of abode,” he said.
“Simon Charles Matthew Joseph Radley,” Simon said. “Welbourne Abbey, Suffolk, England.”
The priest raised his eyebrows at the address, but said nothing, filling out a line on the form in front of him.
“Claire Marie O’Rourke,” Claire said next, “Hillside Cottage, Welbourne, Suffolk, England.”
Elliot entered this information. “Your ages, please?”
“Eighteen,” Simon said in a composed voice.
“Seventeen,” Claire said.
“And you are both single persons?”
“We are,” they chorused.
The door opened and Joe came in, followed by the man from the taproom who was to act as the second witness.
Mr. Elliot finished filling out his form, then the whole party moved to the square table upon which the bible reposed. Mr. Elliot stood in front of it and Simon, Claire and the witnesses stood before him.
“Do you have a ring?” Mr. Elliot asked Simon.
Claire’s heart sank. A ring! Neither of them had thought of a ring!
Simon put his hand into his breast pocket and took out something. “Here it is.” He glanced at Claire. “My mother left her jewelry to me. It’s one of her rings.”
Claire let out a long breath of relief.
Mr. Elliott took the ring from Simon and gave it to Claire. “Hold this until we need it,” he said.
She took the ring and slipped it into the sash of her dress.
Mr. Elliott cleared his throat. “We shall now begin the ceremony.
Claire stood as straight as she could and looked into Simon’s eyes. He looked gravely back into hers.
Mr. Elliot intoned, “Claire Marie, have you come here of your own free will and accord?”
“Yes,” Claire replied, as firmly as she could.
“Simon Charles Matthew Joseph, have you come here of your own free will and accord?”
“Yes,” said Simon.
This is it, Claire thought, and her heart began to pound in her chest.
The priest turned toward Simon. “Simon, Charles, Matthew, Joseph, Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, forsaking all others, and keep to her as long as you both shall live?”
“I will,” Simon said clearly.
Claire felt tears gathering in her eyes.
“Claire Marie, Do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband, forsaking all others, and keep to him as long as you both shall live?”
“I will,” said Claire, blinking hard.
“Give the ring to Simon.”
Claire plucked the ring from her sash and gave it to her almost husband.
Mr. Elliot said, “Now Simon, hand the ring to me.”
Simon gave it to the priest, who then handed it back to him and instructed, “Now you may put it on the forth finger of Claire’s left hand.”
Claire extended her hand. Simon put the ring on her finger, repeating after the priest, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen.”
“Join your right hands please.”
They reached out to each other, and Claire saw that Simon’s eyes were bright with unshed tears too. Her throat felt tight but she managed to repeat after the priest, “What God joins together let no man put asunder.”
Mr. Elliot lifted his hands in blessing. “Forasmuch as this man and this woman have consented to go together by giving and receiving a ring, I, therefore, declare them to be man and wife before God and these witnesses in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen.”
Claire smiled in relief. They had done it! They were married!
Simon stepped close to her and, bending, kissed her mouth.
“This is the best day of my life,” he said, his voice low and not quite steady.
“Mine too,” she whispered back.
Mr. Elliot shook Simon’s hand and patted Claire’s shoulder. They had to wait while he filled out the marriage certificates, one for his records and one for them. Then Joe took them back to the inn.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Simon and Claire went decorously up the inn stairway to their room, their certificate of marriage safely in Simon’s hand. As soon as they stepped inside he went to the leather folder he had carried in his travel bag and put the certificate into it. “It will be nice and safe there,” he said with satisfaction. Then he straightened and turned to Claire.
Her brown eyes were huge. “I can scarcely believe it,” she whispered. We’re married.”
He grinned, encircled her waist with his hands, lifted her, and began to spin her around in a circle, laughing exuberantly. She braced her hands on his shoulders and laughed back down at him.
When he returned her to her feet, she looked up at him with eyes full of curiosity. “How do we start?” she asked.
There had been women in the town near Simon’s school who offered opportunities for upper-class students to shed their virginity, but he had never taken advantage of them. He wanted to come to Claire as pure as he knew she would come to him. He looked at her now and felt such enormous tenderness, such gratitude that she had trusted herself to him, that he almost stopped breathing. Then he held out his hands and said, “Come here and kiss me.”
# # #
Claire went eagerly into his arms and kissed him with all the love that was in her. He kissed her back so fiercely he pressed her head all the way back against his shoulder. After a while his lips moved from her mouth to the arch of her neck, then slowly back again to her mouth. She shivered as an amazing sensation rippled through her, from her mouth, to her abdomen then all the way down into her loins. When finally he lifted his head, her heart was pounding and her knees felt so weak that they wobbled and she would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her.
He said in a strangely husky voice, “Would it be all right if I took off your gown?”
Utterly stunned by that kiss, she managed to stutter her agreement.
Her simple, sprig muslin frock came off easily, dropping to the floor and pooling around her ankles. He put his hands on her waist and lifted her out of it, then stepped back to look at her. She was wearing only her petticoat and a thin cotton chemise, and at the look on his face her heart began to race even faster. She wet her dry lips with her tongue and said, “Now you take off your shirt.”
He pulled his white muslin shirt out of his breeches and then over his head. He tossed it on the floor, his eyes never leaving her. His hair fell across his forehead in a spangle of silver gilt and she stepped back into his arms, lifting her face. As they kissed once more she ran her hands up and down his back, feeling the strong muscles under the smooth
skin. Just touching him this way made her breathing come even faster.
He surprised her by scooping her up and depositing her on the bed. Then he stretched out beside her, kissing her again, her mouth, her neck, then pushing her chemise down so he could kiss her breasts.
“You’re so beautiful, Claire,” he muttered. “Your skin is like silk.”
The touch of his tongue on her nipples was sending liquid sensation pouring throughout her body. Her breath caught audibly and her fingers tightened on his back. He lifted his head to ask, “All right?”
“Yes!” she assured him huskily. “I like it.”
“Oh God.” His voice sounded like a groan. He inhaled deeply, sat up and ripped off his breeches. Then he was back, and she felt his hand on her drawers, pushing them down. She helped him get rid of them, and his fingers came up between her legs.
She stiffened at the touch. Claire had been brought up on a stud farm, and she knew what was going to happen next, but still the intimacy shocked her.
“Are you sure you’re all right? Do you want me to stop?” Simon’s voice was almost unrecognizable and she shook her head on the pillow. “No. No. I’m fine.”
“Oh God. Claire.” He was panting. “I’ll try to wait.”
His fingers began to move again and an amazing sensation began to emanate from his touch. Instinctively, she arched up against him, spreading her legs so he could go deeper.
“I can’t wait any longer Claire,” he said desperately.
“Go ahead,” she said and opened her legs even wider so he could enter her. As he came in and began to move tentatively, a breathtaking tension started to build around him. She could feel liquid begin to flow where he was, making his passage easier. Her arms were around him and she followed his motion, totally concentrated on the feeling that was building inside her. Then he hit the barrier of her virginity.
“This might hurt,” he said, his voice hoarse. Sweat was pouring off of him.
“That’s all right, Simon.” Her voice was almost as urgent as his. “I don’t mind.”