by Julia London
“What?” he asked, lifting his head, his eyes wide.
She yanked her hands free of his grasp. “And how could you have botched this kidnapping as badly as you have?” she cried, throwing his neckcloth down.
“Botched this kidnapping?”
“Yes, botched!” she cried, slapping his hands away. “You wrapped me in a carpet that… that reeks of dog, and you drove all the way out here and there is no inn, and there is no food, and there is no bath, and I am certain you forgot my pelisse and my gloves!”
Judging by Grif’s blank look, he certainly had, and Anna wailed.
But Grif caught her by the arms again and shook her lightly to make her look at him. “Why did ye no’ tell me, lass?”
“Because,” she said, pushing against him. “You had me all trussed up like a pig! How was I to speak?”
“No, no, I mean…ere today! Why did ye no’ tell me what was in yer heart? Ye spoke of no one but Lockhart!”
“I don’t know!” she cried. “I was afraid! You …you staggered me, too, Grif—but you were a scoundrel and a liar and the good Lord only knew what else!” she said, the tears flowing now. “And you were so distant, and so enamored of Lucy! What was I to do?”
Grif grasped her jaw and tilted it upward so that he could see her tearstained face. “Hear me,” he said softly. “I wasna enamored of Lucy. I wanted to stuff a sock in her mouth, aye, but I wasna enamored of anyone but ye, Anna.” He shifted his hand, put his palm against her cheek. “I understand now, mo ghraidh that I didna speak me heart, either… but what matter? It’s all changed now, has it no’?”
Anna unsteadily wiped the tears from beneath her eyes with her fingers. “Yes. Everything,” she whispered, and looked at him.
They reached for each other at the exact same moment; Grif pulled her onto his lap and kissed the path of her tears from one cheek. “I’m neither a thief nor a scoundrel,” he said. “I canna offer ye great wealth, but I can offer ye unending love,” he vowed, kissing her eyes, the bridge of her nose.
“I don’t care about wealth,” she said. “I don’t care about anything but you, Grif—just to be with you, by your side, part of your life…”
“I’ll no’ let ye go, Anna. The king’s men couldna take ye from me now. I’ll keep ye safe, I’ll keep ye warm, and I’ll love ye until I draw me last breath, I swear to God I shall.”
Anna closed her eyes as his earnest vow seeped into her heart. Suddenly, nothing else mattered— not the kidnapping, or the scandal that was sure to follow, or the lack of food—nothing but his arms around her. She opened her eyes and unconsciously lifted her hand to touch his face. He leaned into it, kissing her palm.
“Ye’ll come with me, aye, Anna? Ye’ll be with me.” His voice had grown rough, his green eyes glittering with the strength of his emotion. “Ye’ll be with me for many long and happy years, aye?”
Her heart rose and swelled to fill the cavity of her chest. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, yes, yes…” Her dream had come true—she would marry for love …wouldn’t she? “Then…” her voice trailed off.
“Then?”
“Then will we…I mean, what I’d ask, is whether…” She paused again.
“Whether…?” He looked confused.
She frowned. “Whether those… long and happy years, as you so eloquently put it… would result in something perhaps a bit more …formal than… this,” she said, gesturing to the two of them and the coach.
“Formal,” he repeated, looking around at the coach. “Aye, of course… ye’d want it formal.”
She blinked at him, her mind unwilling to accept what she was hearing. “Don’t you want… formal?”
He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “I… want, I suppose, whatever…ye want,” he said uncertainly.
Anna stared at him for a long moment. “I can’t believe you!” she cried, pushing against his chest and off his lap. “Do you mean to say that you have kidnapped me and will convey me all the way to Scotland to be your mistress?” she exclaimed hotly, and punched him square in the arm.
“Ouch!” he shouted. “I didna say mistress!”
“You didn’t say anything!” she shouted back at him. “You never said a bloody word but kidnap!”
She saw a spark in his green eyes, and Grif threw his head back with a shout of laughter as he caught her fully around the arms and clasped her to him. “Ye are the most impossible woman God ever made!” he exclaimed. “Of course I mean to marry ye! Do ye think I’d have endured so much for anything less?”
Her frown instantly gave way to a smile. “Really?”
“Ach, lass! I suppose I thought it was understood. Why would I kidnap ye, then? How else might I keep ye from harm? Aye, aye, we’ll marry, mo ghraidh, my love. In Gretna Green.”
“Gretna Green!” she gasped.
“Aye,” he said, cringing a little. “I know ye must be disappointed, but we canna arrive on the steps of Talla Dileas without having married, aye? And I canna promise ye a big fancy formal wedding such as they have in Mayfair—”
“Gretna Green is wonderful!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing him almost to death. “I can’t wait to write home and tell them that I was married at Gretna Green!”
Grif seemed a little confused by that, but he smiled broadly all the same, a smile that warmed her to her toes, wrapped around her heart and held it. She kissed him passionately on a surge of raw emotion, and Grif responded, his fingers in her hair, his tongue stroking deep into her mouth.
God help her, but Anna was on fire. She had never ached like this, had never hungered for another living soul as she did at that moment. She loved him desperately and he loved her. He wanted to marry her. She would, by some miracle, marry for love.
Grif’s hands eagerly swept her body, traveling down her arms, her legs, and up again, to her breasts, and around, fumbling with the tiny buttons of her gown. The rain drummed against the coach, matching the tempo of their beating hearts. Anna sought the strength of his body, thrusting her hands deep inside his waistcoat, feeling his spine, his rib cage, and the corded muscles in his neck and shoulders, the hard plate of his breast, the hardened nipples.
But suddenly Grif caught her hands and pulled them free of his body. “No, Anna, no,” he said breathlessly, shaking his head. “Diah, I want ye, lass,” he said, caressing her hair. “I want ye… but ye deserve far better than this,” he said, looking around at the old coach. “I’ll no’ make love to ye until I’ve married ye, for ye deserve to have a name, and a castle, and a warm, soft bed…” he said as he slowly leaned back against the squabs, holding her to him.
She didn’t argue, but pressed her face against his chest. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Anna said dreamily. “I’m so very happy.”
“Ye willna regret it. I’ll spend every moment of every day making certain ye donna ever regret it, leannan.”
“How could I regret something so beautiful?” she asked, smiling. “Life has been so exciting since you came into it, Grif. I would rather have an exciting life than an intolerably dull one in London.”
Grif kissed her forehead. “I canna lie—I am relieved and happy to hear it.”
They lay together a while longer, listening to the rain and enjoying the freedom the truth had at last given them, until Anna’s body made a groan. She put a hand on her belly and asked, “What of food?”
He sighed wearily and stroked her hair. “I didna exactly think of food.”
She moaned and pressed her face to his shoulder, whimpering. “You really are a deplorable kidnapper, Grif.”
“Aye, and I suppose ye’d do better?” he asked with a grin.
“Of course I would,” she said in all sincerity.
Grif quietly smiled into her hair as she began to enumerate the many ways his kidnapping skills might be improved.
Twenty-nine
O ver the course of the next several days, Grif and Anna made it to within miles of the Scots borde
r, to Carlisle, without serious incident, managing to dodge two Englishmen who appeared woefully out of place in Nottingham’s market stalls as they walked through, peering closely at all the women. They were certain the men were looking for Anna.
Grif determined that they must travel faster and off main roads, and deeper in the countryside to avoid being spotted. He bought a pair of boy’s trousers for Anna and left the old family coach behind so that they might continue on horseback. Anna became quite an equestrian in those few days, and arrived in Carlisle with her face a bonny shade of brown, what with all the sun.
It was remarkable to Grif how quickly she adapted to any surroundings. One day she was a debutante from one of the finest families in London’s Mayfair. Today she was little more than a peasant, riding across England on horseback eating apples and cheese and the occasional trout, all without complaint. And she enjoyed pointing out various flora and fauna she had obviously studied under the tutelage of some very expensive tutor. She loved the adventure of their flight, loved the freedom.
But she wasn’t entirely free. They had some unfinished business that weighed heavily on Grif’s mind.
Grif took a room at an inn in Carlisle, posing as a man and his boy, so that Grif might buy some provisions. He purchased two suitable gowns for Anna as well as some shoes. Anna insisted she loved the shoes, but he could not help noticing that she could hardly bring herself to look at them. Perhaps study black walking shoes had not been the ideal choice, but he had thought them rather practical.
Grif also purchased two saddles for the long ride to Talla Dileas. The gowns, shoes, and saddles put Grif near the end of his funds. But he was certain that Hugh was already in Gretna Green. He fully expected to marry Anna properly and continue on to Loch Chon the very next day.
He fully expected that, and nothing else.
There was nothing left but the unfinished business, for which Grif had also purchased vellum, so that they could, together, write a letter to her parents.
Anna labored long and hard over her portion of the letter, writing a few words, then putting down her pencil to rub her temples, then writing a few words more before she would stand and pace restlessly. When at last she finished, she put the epistle in the pocket of her trousers.
“Have ye done it, then?” he asked.
“I suppose I’ve done most of it,” she said with a frown. “It’s rather hard to do, actually. It doesn’t seem as if the story is quite finished, does it?”
There was nothing but a small cross at the border to signal the fact that they were free.
The afternoon they crossed into Scotland, Anna impulsively looked over her shoulder and felt tremendous relief. Although they had not seen the men from Nottingham again, she had never felt free of them. It was as if some invisible person were watching her, following her every move, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch her from this dream.
But there was no one to snatch her, nothing but green rolling fields and sheep.
“Anna? Are ye all right, then?”
She loved the sound of his Scottish burr, so familiar to her now, so much a part of her. She turned toward him, smiling. “Quite,” she said, reaching for his hand. “Better than I’ve ever been in my life.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
On the outskirts of the little village of Gretna Green, they stopped in a heavily wooded area so that Anna might don one of the gowns Grif had given her. In the village, they stabled the horses and walked about, deciding at last to inquire within the dry goods shop as to where they might find a vicar. Neither of them wanted to wait a moment more.
The shopkeeper was busy counting what looked like licorice candies. “Blacksmith,” he said without looking up from his count.
“The smithy?” Grif repeated, exchanging a glance with Anna.
“Aye, the smithy. Round the corner just there,” the shopkeeper added with a nod of his head.
“Perhaps he’s having his horse shod,” Grif said reassuringly to Anna’s worried look as they walked out of the shop.
But the vicar was not having his horse shod. The vicar was shodding the horse, as he was the smithy. He looked up as Grif and Anna entered the wide barn doors and gave them a quick once-over. “Wedding, is it?”
“Aye,” Grif said, taking Anna’s hand.
“Two pounds.”
“Very well,” Grif agreed. “Is the vicar within?”
“Here, lad,” the smithy said, rising to his feet and pointing to himself. “SEAMUS!” he roared.
An elderly man instantly shuffled through a back door, wiping his hands on his apron. The smithy said something to him that Anna could not quite catch—it sounded a bit like English, and maybe a bit like Grif’s language. Whatever it was, Seamus seemed to understand it, and disappeared to the back room.
“Ye’ll stand there,” the smithy said, pointing with his poker to a large cold anvil near one of several thick posts that held up the roof. “I’ll be but a moment.” And as he went about putting away his implements, Seamus reappeared, carrying the Book of Common Prayer and a dirtied white ecclesiastical stole, which he handed to the smithy.
The smithy draped the soiled stole around his neck and opened the Book of Common Prayer.
“Ye’ll be needing a proper witness, aye?” a familiar voice asked from behind them, and Anna and Grif both whirled around to a grinning Hugh.
“MacAlister!” Grif cried, grabbing his hand and clapping him on the shoulder.
“I rather imagined ye’d make yer way here above all else,” Hugh said with a wink, and took Anna’s hand and kissed it warmly. “Miss Addison, what a beautiful bride ye are,” he said gallantly.
“Have you been here long?” Grif asked.
“A day or two.”
“Did ye meet with any trouble?”
“No, of course no’,” Hugh scoffed, still smiling at Anna. But then he shrugged a bit. “Perhaps a wee spot of trouble. Never mind that now, lad. I’ll tell ye all, but at the moment I’d be honored to witness yer marriage, I would.”
“Thank you,” Anna said.
“And I’ll have ye know, lass, that I stand before ye now as a gentleman and a friend, and most certainly no’ as Lockhart’s bloody valet.”
Anna laughed. “I am right thankful for that, for I understand that you were not a particularly good valet.”
Hugh laughed roundly and fondly patted Grif on the back. “On me life, the worst valet in all of England for the worst lord!”
“Shall ye turn round now?” the smithy asked loudly. “I’ve too much work to dally. If ye would, sir, take her hand,” he instructed Grif.
Beaming, Grif took Anna’s hand; Hugh moved to stand beside him. The smithy flipped through several pages of the Book of Common Prayer. “Ah, here we are, then,” he muttered.
Grif squeezed Anna’s hand and flashed her a handsome smile.
The smithy cleared his throat, and began in a theatrical voice, “‘Dearly beloved, we gather today in the sight of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.’” He paused, looked up at them. “I’ll just hurry it along a bit, if ye donna mind,” he said, and held the book out before him. “‘The holy estate which Christ adorned and beautified with his presence…’”
He paused again, squinting at the book.
“Aha, here we are,” he said, and straightened again. “’Tis no’ to be taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God. It is ordained for the increase of mankind according to the will of God, and it is also ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into this holy estate ye come now to be joined. Will ye…’” He glanced up and pointed at Grif. “Yer name, then, lad.”
“Ah…Griffin Finnius Lockhart.”
“Will ye, Griffin Finnius Lockhart, take…?” He looked at Anna, cocked a brow.
“Anna Louise Addison.”
“I will indeed,” Grif said, smiling at Anna.
“And, lass, ye will do the same, will ye no’?”
“I will,” Anna avowed.
“Any objection?”
“No, sir!” Hugh said grandly.
“Then as hammer and anvil join metal together in the heat of the fire, I hereby join ye together in the heat of this moment!” he said, and made the motion of a cross. “Two pound, if ye please,” he said to Grif, “and will ye put yer names to the register. Yer witness, too.”
Grif let out a whoop, grabbed Anna up, kissed her hard on the lips as he twirled her around. “Mrs. Griffin Lockhart,” he said with a broad grin, and kissed her again, until the smithy tapped him on the shoulder, wanting his two pounds.
As Grif fished the money from his pocket, Hugh grabbed Anna and kissed her fully on the lips, and showed no inclination of letting go until Grif playfully slapped the back of his head, at which point he let go of Anna and grabbed Grif in a big bear hug. “Aye, and the luck of the Scottish with ye, Grif,” he said genuinely. “May ye be blessed with many wee bairns that have their mother’s beauty and their father’s stubborn determination.”
His wish caused Anna to laugh giddily. How remarkable that she’d come so far in so short a time, to this, to her heart’s desire. She had married Grif and she loved him, and they were happily and forever married. As if to seal it, Grif took her hand, and together they signed the register, their full names and their ages, alongside Hugh.
When the three of them turned round again, Seamus had disappeared, the smithy had already divested himself of the Book of Common Prayer and the ecclesiastical stole, and was back at work.
“Come on, then. We must hold a proper celebration,” Hugh insisted. “Ye must have a wedding supper at the Queen’s Head Inn.”