by Jamie Carie
The magistrate cleared his throat and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Do you, Martin Saunderson, take this woman, um, y-you d-didn’t say what her n-name was,” he stuttered.
Martin looked down at Kendra with a devilish grin. “Lady Kendra Townsend.”
The magistrate started to nod and then looked up, startled at the title.
“Just go on!”
Kendra jumped at the shout.
The magistrate cleared his throat again and looked at Martin. “Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will.” His voice held a note of mock gravity as he stared down into Kendra’s eyes. Anger, like she’d never felt before, filled her. She looked away, breathing hard and trying not to burst into tears.
The magistrate nodded and then turned toward Kendra. “Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
Kendra turned her gaze to Martin’s, held it, stared into his brown eyes. She shook her head and stated, “No, I do not. I will not. Never.”
The magistrate paled and looked to Martin, who motioned with his hand for him to continue with the ceremony.
“Do you have a ring?”
Martin dug into his pocket, took Kendra’s hand, and shoved a plain, gold band on her finger.
“Repeat after me,” the magistrate instructed Martin. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow—”
“Yes, yes. Just do the ending.”
Kendra shook her head as the man’s eyes skipped down the page. “In as much as Martin Saunderson and Kendra Townsend have consented—”
“Consented!” Kendra yelled. “How will you sleep at night, knowing you’ve done this thing? God is our witness, sir.”
“Continue and your debts will be paid in full,” Martin reminded him with raised brows.
The man hesitated, his mouth working in silent indecision.
“You have exactly three seconds,” Martin challenged. “Three, two—”
The magistrate cleared his throat and looked back down at his prayer book. “. . . together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be—”
Kendra fell forward but Martin caught her and forced her to stand upright. “Noooo! I beg you!”
Dorian turned from following John out the front door. “Wait. Forget the back way. It’s Kendra.” He knew that voice. He would always know that voice.
He turned and dashed up the stairs, John on his heels. A loud scuffling noise from behind one of the doors gave him his direction. He ran to the door and threw it open.
The occupants of the room turned and gaped as Dorian and John rushed into the room, pistols aimed at the two men.
Martin cursed while trying to grab the fleeing Kendra. Catching her, he pushed her behind his back, breathing hard. Dorian lost all conscious thought at the sight of her, eyes wide with fright. He took the steps toward Martin and punched him in the jaw. Before Martin had time to react, Dorian followed that punch with another to his stomach. Martin bent over with a harsh sound and tried to swing at Dorian but it lacked the strength that Dorian knew flowed through him from his fear for Kendra.
“Get back,” Dorian ordered Kendra. While his attention strayed to her for a brief moment, Martin knocked his arm, the one holding the gun, and sent it sliding across the floor. They both dove for it, but Martin was closer. Dorian watched in dread as he grasped it and turned it on him, standing up with a slow grin. Dorian didn’t pause, didn’t give Martin time to even raise his arm and point the gun. He swung with all his might, punching Martin in the side of the head. Martin’s eyes rolled back into his head and the gun clattered to the floor as he went down, the table falling over with a crash.
Looking around, Dorian saw that John held the man with the prayer book. He was pale and panting, not even trying to get away. Dorian tossed some rope to John. “Let’s tie them up and then fetch any law we can find around here.”
Dorian turned toward Kendra. “Are you alright? What was going on in here?”
“If you’d been a second later, I might be a married woman right now. Martin was bribing the magistrate to wed us without my consent.”
Dorian glared at Martin who had come to and sat tied to a chair, his mouth bleeding on one side. “He lied to you, Kendra. The courts would never support a marriage that you didn’t consent to.”
Martin’s upper lip curled in a disdainful smirk. “We would have been long gone from here and the marriage consummated before she figured that out.”
“Come. Let’s get you away from here.” Dorian took her elbow and led her from the room, saying back over his shoulder, “John, hold the pistol on them while I fetch the constable.”
“Gladly, Captain.”
Dorian led Kendra into the hall, shut the door, and pulled her close. “Kendra,” he whispered her name into her hair. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought . . .”
“Yes?” Kendra leaned back and looked into his eyes.
He held her for a long moment while they both just breathed.
“I believe I’ve made a discovery,” he finally said.
She looked up, dark lashes wet with tears. Her ivory throat contracted with a hard swallow.
“There is only one way to keep you safe.”
Her brows raised in question. Her voice was threadbare, a breath. “And what is that?”
“Make you mine.”
“Yours?”
“Yes. For always.”
A shiver went through her spine and he felt it in his arm clasped around her. “What are you saying, Captain?”
He grinned, allowing the freedom of the thought, the capitulation, to overtake him. Yes. This was what he wanted. More than the sea. More than a bachelor life that he’d put on a pedestal. More than the fear of another bad marriage. This. Kendra. This was what he had been searching for. His mooring place. The solace, the grounding place, the roots . . . that was here . . . now . . . in his arms. And he’d almost lost it.
“Will you be my wife, Kendra?”
Her mouth quivered and a little cry burst from her throat as she buried her face in his shoulder. She nodded her head.
“Yes?”
She looked up, touched his face, and leaned toward him. “Yes.”
He took a long breath and laughed. Then he pulled her closer still, pulled her up off her toes and into his arms. His lips crushed down in gentle assault. He plunged them into whirling sensation until he felt dizzy and reckless like on the deck of a ship tossed by wind and sea. A voice resounded within him like a song, like a sea chant overcoming the storm.
Abandon the fear, turn away from independence. Embrace love. Embrace this woman . . . her glorious being that lights your heart on fire. Love her. Love her. Love her . . . forever.
I will.
Chapter Twenty-One
It was evening by the time Dorian helped Kendra down from the hired carriage in front of the Rutherfords cabin. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to tell them the news? I don’t trust your uncle.”
Kendra placed a hand on his arm. “I can handle them, trust me. And anyway, John is eager to get home, I can tell.” She smiled up at him. “You may call on me tomorrow.”
She could see the silver flecks in his eyes reflected in the dusk sunlight. He caressed her cheek with the back of one gloved finger. “I don’t know that I can let yo
u out of my sight for that long. Who knows what trouble you will find yourself in.” He was teasing, of course, but there was a note of seriousness in his voice that warmed Kendra’s heart.
“Trust me. I will have a better chance of winning them to our side without you standing beside me like a fire-breathing dragon.”
Dorian leaned down and whispered in her ear, “A dragon, eh? First I’m a pirate and now a dragon. And here I thought I was your knight in shining armor, rescuing you and all. Your opinion wounds me, my lady.”
Kendra cocked her head toward him and grinned. “I’m sure you will think of something to remedy it.”
“Lord knows I’ll have time enough, being shackled to you for the rest of my days.” She could feel his smile against her cheek as he moved even closer to her lips.
“Having regrets already?” Kendra turned her face ever so much.
His lips hovered over hers. “Oh yes. Deep regrets. But I am sure you will think of something to console me? Reassure me?” His kiss deepened and cut off her laugh.
For a few breathless minutes she forgot her very real dread of the conversation to come with her relatives, forgot John waiting in the carriage, forgot everything but the man who would soon be her husband. Her mind went blessedly blank as sensation ruled—his exploring lips and the firm muscles of his shoulders as she clung to him, the—
A throat cleared. Loudly. “I told you we should have demanded the magistrate’s services before the constable hauled him away.” John’s voice was like a bucket of icy water thrown over them.
Kendra jumped back, choking back a laugh. She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. “Sorry, John.”
“Oh, never mind. As Dorian said, his mother would have never forgiven us had you wed without the family present. Let’s just hope you can pull together a ceremony soon.” He chuckled. Dorian glared at him. John cleared his throat again and looked away.
Kendra turned toward the house. “I will see you tomorrow then?”
Dorian gave her a brief bow. “Tomorrow, my love.”
Her heart sang at his words as she turned toward the door and opened it. She waved good-bye and then, with a deep breath, entered the sitting room.
“Aunt Amelia? Uncle Franklin? Anyone home?” There was a single candle burning on a low table, but no sign of her aunt or uncle. She moved through the dark house, checking the few rooms. Could her aunt still be at the Colburns’? Dorian had assured her that the party had broken up and he’d sent word that they had found her. She stepped into the kitchen and saw a shadowy form out the back window. Walking to the back door, she opened it and peered out at the vegetable garden. Before she could say anything she heard her Uncle Franklin’s voice.
“He will have married her by now. Might even be consummating the marriage right now.” He chuckled.
“Franklin. I beg you. You have to stop this nonsense,” her aunt’s voice rebuked.
“What’s gotten into you?” Franklin growled. “You know this is the only way to get our hands on that fortune.”
“I can’t be a part of it anymore. I won’t help you. As a matter of fact . . .”—Amelia’s voice quivered but there was a note of steel underneath it—“I told them that it was Martin who took her, and I told Dorian Colburn that I had heard you and Martin mention the town of Hanover. If anything is going on right now, it is probably Kendra’s rescue.”
There was a rustling sound and then Kendra heard her aunt make a terrible rasping sound. Without thinking, she rushed out the door, closing it with a loud bang, and ran toward them. “Stop it!” she yelled, seeing now that her uncle had his hands wrapped around Amelia’s throat. She ran at Franklin and started beating his back and arms with her fists. “Don’t hurt her! Stop it right now!”
Franklin took one hand off his wife, reached around, and shoved Kendra to the ground. He spun around with Amelia still in his grasp, eyes alight with rage.
“Uncle Franklin, please. This isn’t you. Don’t do this.” Kendra sat up and wiped the dirt from her cheek, breathing heavy.
He stopped at her words, his face drooping, eyes registering shock. He dropped Amelia’s arm, turned, and walked away from them into the darkness of the fields.
Amelia gasped. “Hurry, before he changes his mind and comes up with another plan to get your dowry. We don’t have much time. We have to get away from here.”
“My dowry? Is that what he and Martin were planning?”
“Yes.” Her aunt pulled her back to the house as she explained. “The letter you brought from Lord Townsend told of your dowry, and Franklin came up with a plan to get his hands on it. If you married his good friend, Martin, they were going to split it.”
Kendra stopped inside the house. “And you were helping them?” It had all been a lie. Their care and concern. All this time they had been plotting against her to get to her dowry. Memories of time spent with her aunt crashed over her in stark clarity—all their talks, working side-by-side, her aunt smiling more, laughing more often . . . Tears filled Kendra’s eyes until she could hardly see where she was going. These people didn’t love her. They just wanted something from her, some paltry dowry she hadn’t even known about.
“At first I did, but as I got to know you . . . and love you . . . I told Dorian where to find you. Franklin will never forgive me for that, but I had to do what was right. Now hurry up. I know him and his mind is plotting on what to do next. He could be back at any moment.”
They hurried through the dark house toward her room. What might her uncle do when he found out she planned to marry Dorian within the week? Could he stop her from marrying him? Did he have that kind of power over her? She had to get out before he locked her in her room.
Once in her room, they pulled a trunk from under her bed and began to stuff her most prized belongings in it. She had a little money in the toe of one stocking left over from the trip from England, some clothes, some jewelry and pretty hairpins, the precious dragonfly brooch . . . but what she really needed when traveling alone at night was a gun. Uncle Franklin had a gun. “Aunt, go and fetch Uncle Franklin’s gun. We may need it and we certainly don’t want him coming after us with it. And pack a quick bag for yourself.”
“Good idea.” Amelia hurried from the room.
A little while later a noise from the back of the yard made her stop and turn, prickles of fear racing down her spine. Oh God, help us get out of here! She eased down the lid and sidled over toward the door, standing behind it. Her aunt came back with the gun and thrust it into Kendra’s hands.
“He’s coming!”
With a burst of strength, she lifted the trunk, motioned to her aunt to follow her, and bolted from the room. When they reached the door, Amelia stopped. Kendra turned as she ran out the door and yelled in a whisper, “What are you doing? Come on!”
“I’m not going. I will be okay, I’m sure of it. I’ll stay here and try to talk some sense into him. It will buy you some time. Now hurry! Go!”
There wasn’t time to argue with the plan. Kendra turned and fled, amazed at her aunt’s courage.
Kendra jumped and stifled a shriek as an owl hooted nearby. Taking a deep breath, she kept on, putting one foot in front of the other as fast as she could and dragging the heavy trunk behind her on the dirt road. Worry for Amelia kept her going. Would Franklin fly into another rage? What would he do when he found her gone?
She looked up at the moon and judged that it must be well beyond midnight. She had come four or five miles by now but still hadn’t found the Y in the road that she remembered Dorian saying to take to get to his home. Her feet ached in protest of each step, begging her to stop. She looked down at the dainty slippers that matched the light sash of her gown and frowned. What she needed was a decent pair of boots, but there had not been money for that.
A howling sound pierced the air and made her throat close in fear. She took up the gun, swung it around, and aimed it in the direction of the noise. Little good a gun without powder would do. She hadn’t considered wild ani
mals when she’d thought to bluff about her skills in weaponry. Another howl, closer this time.
Oh . . . oh. What is that, Lord?
Another sound, off to the right. Was there more than one? Kendra’s gaze darted around the shadowy trees on either side of the road. It seemed unwise to leave the cleared path where the bright light of the moon gave her some feeling of safety, but they sounded like they were coming right for her. A tree. Could she climb a tree in these skirts? She hadn’t climbed a tree since she was a girl but if she could find one with low enough branches . . .
Wolves can’t climb trees, can they? I’m about to marry the man of my dreams and I can’t be eaten by wolves right now!
With the empty gun still pointed toward the sound she backed toward some low trees. The dancing shadows made by the moon and wind caused her breath to rush in and out of her chest. Just as she was about to throw down the weapon and leap for the lowest branch, she heard the pounding sound of a horse’s hooves. She pressed back into the rough bark of the tree as a tall, pale horse came galloping into view, its white mane like a silvery flag whipping in the wind. She couldn’t speak as the magnificent creature raced by, throwing up clods of earth from his hooves.
Everything was quiet once the dust from the rider settled. She took a few steps after him and then stopped. Despair filled her as she realized she was alone again. Cocking her head, she listened for the wolves, but there was no sound except the breeze blowing through tree branches. Her hand curled tight around the rifle as she took deep, calming breaths. She would just have to keep walking. At least the streak of horseflesh had scared away the wolves. She only hoped they would stay away and not follow her.
An hour later she stumbled over a large rock and fell to the road. Tears of exhaustion and pain streamed down her dirty cheeks as she sat in the middle of the road and cradled her bruised toe. She rocked back and forth, looking up at the near-full moon, and allowed the crying to reach her chest. What was she to do? She would never make it all the way to the Colburn Plantation injured and without water. Her throat ached with dryness and quivered with emotion. Why hadn’t she thought to bring water instead of clothes? She could have gone back for the clothes after she was safely married. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid Englishwoman. What was she doing in this savage country anyway?