Honoria: The Forbidden Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch (Sweet Version) Book 7)

by Merry Farmer

  “Do you, Solomon Jeremiah Templesmith, take this woman, Honoria Aurora Bonneville, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold in sickness and in health, to love, honor, and cherish, until death do you part?”

  “I do,” Solomon answered with a tremor in his voice that both lifted and broke Honoria’s heart. He slipped a gold ring on her finger to sit beside the diamond one, and Honoria’s tears began to flow. She hadn’t expected a wedding ring at all.

  “And do you, Honoria Aurora Bonneville, take this man, Solomon Jeremiah Templesmith, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love, honor, and obey in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

  “I do,” she managed to squeeze out. “And even after that.” She only wished she had a ring to give him as well.

  Bonnie swallowed a moan, and even Howard cleared his throat to cover his emotion. Tears painted two hot trails down Honoria’s face at the depth of affection in Solomon’s eyes. He was so kind, so understanding, that she could almost believe he loved her as genuinely as if they’d enjoyed a long courtship and engagement.

  “Then by the power vested in me,” Rev. Pickering went on, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” He leaned in and followed with, “You may kiss your bride.”

  Bonnie rushed up and took Honoria’s bouquet, and as soon as her hands were free, Honoria reached for Solomon’s. Solomon went beyond just holding her hands, though. He circled his arms around her waist and pulled her into a tender embrace. As gently as a cloud kissing the meadow, he covered her lips with his and sealed their union with a kiss. Honoria closed her eyes, opening herself to him, wishing this moment could last forever, that it wasn’t the beginning of the end.

  Solomon must have felt the urgency and torment of her heart. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her more deeply. What began as a touching of hearts deepened to something that whispered of so much more. Honoria reveled in it, curling her fingertips into the strong muscles of his back and willing him to take her away to a place where there was no sickness, no cruelty, and no prejudice. That was all the heaven she needed.

  She was still soaring on the wings of happiness, wrapped in Solomon’s arms, when the sharp shout of, “What is the meaning of this?” crashed through the beauty of the moment from the back of the church.

  They all turned to find Rex Bonneville standing in the church doorway, glaring as though he was ready to commit murder.

  Chapter 5

  Solomon snapped to full alertness the moment Rex barked his question. His muscles tensed, ready to fight or take Honoria and run if he had to. The last time he’d felt such a hard urgency to act was when Martin Postern, his master’s son, had whisked him off in the middle of the night to make a run for the North. As Martin had protected him then, so Solomon turned to shield Honoria from her father now.

  “This is a private marriage ceremony, sir,” he said with as much power and courtesy as he could manage. Always take the high road.

  “Marriage ceremony?” Rex’s eyes flared with fury.

  Two townspeople had poked their heads into the church behind him. At Solomon’s declaration, they gasped and scurried back out into the afternoon sunshine. No doubt within minutes, all of Haskell would know that Solomon Templesmith and Honoria Bonneville had eloped.

  Rex must have understood every bit of the implication. Clenching his fists at his sides, he marched up the aisle to confront them. Honoria gasped, and Solomon could feel her faint trembling as she leaned into his back. He reached around and grasped her hand for comfort.

  “In no way have I given anything even close to permission for a daughter of mine to marry the likes of you,” Rex snarled as he came to within a few feet of Solomon. Howard stepped up to stand by Solomon’s side, and even Bonnie reached a cautious hand toward Rex. Rex beat it away.

  “I don’t need your permission to marry, Papa.” Honoria stepped out from behind Solomon’s back and faced her father. Her voice wavered, and she looked as though she might shrink away if Rex raised his hand, but a burst of pride filled Solomon all the same. Even standing up to the man this much must have taken all the courage she had.

  “I forbid this marriage to take place,” Rex snapped.

  “It’s already taken place.” Rev. Pickering joined the line of defense, coming down to stand on Solomon’s other side.

  “Then undo it,” Rex glowered, face turning redder by the second.

  “I can’t.” Rev. Pickering shrugged. “Moreover, I won’t. This marriage was entered into with the full consent of both parties.”

  “It was not entered into with my consent!” Rex shouted.

  “Excuse me, sir, but these two young people are not so young that they need your permission to wed,” Howard bellowed right back at him.

  Rex snapped to glare at Howard, so angry that a fine sweat beaded on his brow. “I will not allow any of my daughters of whatever age to marry a n—!”

  Honoria gasped. Bonnie clutched a hand to her stomach, seething with offense. Howard and Rev. Pickering both began to protest, but Solomon brushed the comment off as the desperate words of a man who knew he’d already lost his argument.

  “I have pledged my troth to Honoria,” he said, steady and resonant, refusing to refer to his new wife as Rex’s daughter. “She has accepted my hand gladly and given me her own in the sight of God. There is nothing you can do about it, no matter who you think you are or who you believe me to be.”

  “Why, you uppity dog!” Rex raised a hand as if he would strike, but both Howard and Rev. Pickering leapt to intervene.

  They didn’t need to. Rex would never get close enough to strike him. Solomon was faster and stronger than him, and though he’d longed to teach the man a lesson he sorely needed, Solomon wasn’t violent by nature. He continued to simply stand his ground, shielding Honoria as much as she needed to be shielded, and holding her hand.

  “This marriage will stand,” he said.

  Rex used his raised hand to wipe the sweat from his face. His eyes focused on Honoria when he was done. “I demand you leave this man and come home at once!”

  Solomon twitched to speak for her, but stayed silent to allow Honoria to say, “No, Papa. I won’t.”

  “Honoria!”

  She shook her head. “I’m a married woman now.” Her voice was small but clear. “You don’t own me.”

  The words stung that deep place in Solomon that knew exactly how it felt to be owned and exactly what it was to be free. He squeezed Honoria’s hand tighter.

  “You cannot do this,” Rex continued to rail. “This marriage isn’t legal without my consent.”

  “I’m twenty-five years old, Papa,” Honoria said. “I have the right to make my own decisions.”

  “Not this one,” Rex insisted.

  “Rex, let it go,” Bonnie spoke softly from the side.

  Rex rounded on her, his fury redoubled. “And you! What part have you played in this farce, you interfering cat? My daughter is not one of your tarts to be pimped out as you see fit.”

  “Now see here,” Howard interjected.

  Solomon bubbled with rage, ready to defend Bonnie as well if he had to, but Bonnie barely blinked.

  “You’ve been involved in this all along, haven’t you?” Rex blasted on, stepping closer to tower over Bonnie. Still, Bonnie barely flinched as she stared him down. “You encouraged me to find a husband for Vivian, and now you’re complicit in this criminal activity. I can see right through you, missy. You’re attempting to get rid of my daughters so you can sink your greedy little fingers deeper into my pockets.”

  “I can assure you that is not my intention,” Bonnie replied, so calm that it had to be a mask. “My concern is for your daughters’ happiness.”

  “It is not,” Rex bellowed. He raised a finger, pointing it at Bonnie, then said in an ominous voice, “I’ll deal with you later.”

  Again, the urge to do whatever it took to protect Bonnie pushed through Solom
on, but Rex didn’t give him time to act. He whipped back to face Solomon and Honoria.

  “I’m giving you one last chance to undo this travesty,” he said in cold, warning tones.

  “No,” Honoria answered. Her answer was so simple that it sucked the very air out of the room.

  Rex bristled in fury and turned to Solomon, murder in his eyes.

  “No.” Solomon echoed his wife. “I made a promise to Honoria, and I intend to honor it.”

  Silence crackled through the church. No one dared to move or breath.

  At last, Rex bared his teeth in what could have been a wicked smile or a snarl. “You will regret this,” he hissed. “I will hound your every waking moment and put every ounce of my power and influence to work bringing you down.”

  “You can try.” Solomon met him with stoic calm.

  Rex narrowed his eyes further. “If I can’t end this marriage where it started, I can end it in other ways.” His meaning was as clear as if he had laid out detailed plans for murder. “You’d do well to get your affairs in order.”

  Howard had only just opened his mouth to object, and no one else had had a chance to move, when Vivian burst in at the back of the church and shrieked, “My wedding is ruined!”

  Strangely, the dark tension that had wrapped itself around the group at the front of the church snapped like a spring breaking loose from a clock. The sudden shift almost had Solomon laughing.

  Vivian trounced up the aisle, her bouquet—looking a little worse for wear—still in one hand. Her face was twisted in an expression of peevishness.

  “Rance keeps drinking whiskey instead of punch, only a few people have come up to tell me how beautiful I am, and now the only thing anyone is talking about is that she got married too?” Vivian reached the front of the aisle with her last complaint and pointed her bouquet at Honoria. “It can’t possibly be true.”

  “It is true.” Honoria stood straighter and inched forward, still holding Solomon’s hand. “Solomon and I were married.”

  “No,” Vivian yelped, not in protest, but as if she’d been told a ridiculous lie. “No, you weren’t. You can’t marry him, it’s illegal.”

  “It is not illegal in my town,” Howard answered, full of bombast, probably glad that he could finally say something to help the situation.

  “Well you can’t,” Vivian went on in a grinding voice. “This is my wedding day, and I won’t have you ruining it.”

  “Your sister hasn’t ruined anything,” Solomon said. “The reception out there is still for you. The cake and the gifts and the band is all yours.”

  “But everyone is talking about her,” Vivian protested. “They’re supposed to be talking about me!”

  Solomon opened his mouth to reason with her, but Honoria squeezed his hand and shook her head. He closed his mouth. She had far more experience dealing with her sister than he did.

  “We’ll leave,” Honoria said. “I can’t stop people talking, but I won’t stay around and detract from your party.”

  Vivian’s face pinched as though she couldn’t figure out whether that was a good thing or a useless one. “Fine,” she huffed at last. “Go on. Get out of here. If you really did marry this…man—” She curled her lip as though she’d wanted to call him something else. “—then I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  Solomon wondered if that would hurt or delight Honoria beyond telling.

  Honoria nodded. “I wish you every happiness in your new life,” she said, quietly but sweetly. She turned to her father. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you, Papa, but this was something I had to do.”

  “It was not—” Rex stopped cold when Solomon shot a silencing look his way. He bristled, rubbed a hand over his face, then seethed, “Go!”

  With a quick sideways look to Solomon, Honoria pushed forward, silently leading him down the church’s aisle and out the door.

  Almost the entire town of Haskell was celebrating Vivian and Rance’s wedding, and in spite of the rumors that were quick to spread through the revelers, Honoria and Solomon were able to sneak away without much notice. A few of their friends spotted them and ran to offer congratulations, but Solomon urged them to return to the party, saying there would be time for explanations later.

  Honoria was grateful for his intervention. Her head was spinning after the encounter with her father. She could hardly believe that she had said the things she had. But from the moment her father had demanded she undo the one thing that had given her joy and confidence in her life, she knew that in that moment, her death was staring her in the face. She could either give in to it and die right there, simply fading away for the next few months, or live to the fullest while she could.

  She chose life.

  “Well, here we are,” Solomon said as the two of them stepped through the front door of his house—their house.

  Relief like nothing Honoria had ever felt filled her. She sighed and smiled. “Here we are.”

  Solomon shifted to study her. The expression he wore was just a little bit confused. To an extent, she understood his confusion.

  “The worst is over,” she explained with a shrug as her happiness doubled and doubled again. “The rest of my life starts now.”

  His confusion resolved into a smile tinged with sadness. He turned toward her fully and took her hands. “And what would you like to do to start off the rest of your life, Mrs. Templesmith?”

  A thousand ideas swirled in her mind. How strange to be able to choose what to do with her own time. Usually she spent her days running to complete one demand or another. She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips in thought.

  “I’d like to cook,” she said at last.

  “Cook?” Solomon’s smile widened, and he laughed. “Cook what?”

  “Anything.” Honoria laughed along with him. “I was never allowed to cook at home. Papa always insisted we had a servant for that, and Vivian and Melinda were certain I’d burn the house down if I tried. But I managed to sneak down to the kitchen a time or two to help Maria.”

  Solomon’s eyes danced with mirth. He shifted to settle her hand in the crook of his arm, then walked her down the hall toward his kitchen—their kitchen. “So what would you like to cook?”

  It was dizzying to have so many choices in front of her. “Well, it’s past lunchtime but not quite suppertime yet.”

  “We could get supper started,” Solomon suggested. “Honestly, my cooking skills aren’t the best, and between the two of us it might actually take that long to prepare anything.”

  “Good point.” She giggled, mystified by how easy it was. “So what do you have in your pantry?”

  As it turned out, Solomon had a lot of odds and ends in his pantry, but not a lot that made sense. There were sacks of beans and lentils, a large bag of potatoes, and a rasher of bacon. He had a few bunches of carrots and some turnips, plenty of flour and sugar and other baking supplies, but other than the bacon, no meat.

  “I’d run out and buy you a chicken if I didn’t think Mr. Kline had closed his store to attend the wedding,” Solomon said as they lined the rest of the ingredients out on the kitchen table to see what could be done.

  “Hmm.” Honoria arched a brow. “I’m not sure we should start with something as complicated as chicken anyhow.”

  Solomon laughed. There was such a resonant and genuine sound to his laughter. Right then and there, she determined that she would make him laugh as much as possible so that she could wrap herself in the sound and take it with her to the grave.

  “Do you have any books on cookery?” she asked, returning to the issue at hand.

  “Plenty. I have plenty of books about every topic you could imagine.”

  Honoria gasped. “Truly?”

  “Of course.”

  “I can’t wait to read them all.” She clapped her hands to her heart as if she needed to trap the joy she felt right where it was.

  Again, a hint of sadness was betrayed in the twist of Solomon’s mouth, the spark of
his eyes. It wouldn’t do to dwell on how quickly things would come to an end between them. Right now, all Honoria wanted was to imagine that their life together would go on forever.

  Solomon fetched the cookbook while she laid out the rest of the ingredients from the pantry. Once that was done, the two of them stood side-by-side, flipping through the pages to see what their possibilities for supper were.

  “We could actually attempt bacon pies,” he said after they’d gone back and forth between a few recipes that called for few ingredients.

  “Sounds delicious,” Honoria hummed.

  “Let’s do it, then.”

  Bacon pie turned out not to be as simple as Honoria expected, but every minute of the challenge of mixing out pastry dough, chopping vegetables and bacon, and whipping up a broth to fill the pies was pure bliss. After a lifetime of working at odds with her sisters, it was the easiest thing in the world to work with Solomon.

  “Two cups of flour?” he asked as he measured.

  “Two and a half,” she corrected.

  He didn’t scold her, he didn’t blame her for being stupid, he just nodded and poured the correct amount of flour into the bowl.

  As the afternoon and their work progressed, they didn’t chat much. Most of their topics of conversation revolved around what they were doing. There was something so freeing about that, about focusing on the moment without worrying about the past or the future. The only time that they sat still and just talked was when the pies were baking, but even then, they spoke of the kinds of decorations that the house needed, what they could buy in town, and what needed to be ordered.