Page 465 of From Rakes to Riches

Gabriel smiled, but the pastor’s gaze snapped back up at him, looking as though he thought them both quite mad. “Go on,” Gabriel urged the man.”

The pastor grumbled, peering back at Margaret. And then he sighed once more, quite loudly this time. “With my body I thee worship,” he said cantankerously.

Margaret blinked, and for all her previous interjections, she suddenly couldn’t speak. She couldn’t promise Gabriel her body, and yet the mere consideration affected her, sending her pulses skittering. She peered up at Gabriel and saw a stranger—a stranger she knew no better than she did this confounded scotch-drinking preacher. But then she blinked again and saw the warmth nestled in his oddly familiar eyes. And then she blinked a third time, and his face blurred out of focus. She swallowed convulsively because there was no choice to be made here. She was no child to go flying away in fright. She had, in fact, contemplated this option thoroughly, and it had been her most sensible choice.

So then... what was she waiting for?

“I thought you were in a hurry?” the pastor inquired, sounding perturbed.

Margaret frowned. Of course she was. But she couldn’t get the words to squeeze past the constriction of her throat, despite that this was provided for in her list of concerns. But, even if he was prepared to disregard her vows, the very act of speaking those very words threatened her carefully laid plans. She could not promise to worship him with her body.

Gabriel withdrew a timepiece from his vest pocket. He flipped it open, glanced at it, frowned, and then closed it,replacing it into his vest. He gave her a nod, urging her to continue, and Margaret inhaled a breath, and blurted, “With this ring I thee wed. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.”

The pastor slapped his book shut, outraged. “Ye canna change the wedding words, Lady Margaret!”

“I can and have,” Margaret informed him baldly, with far greater conviction than she felt. “Please, do go on, sirrah!”

“Yes, please,” Gabriel insisted, coming to her defense. Margaret smiled gratefully at him to find he was staring again… this time, specifically at her mouth… reminding her of their private arrangement just as surely as though he’d spoken it aloud. She lapped at her lips, averting her gaze.

The pastor glowered at Gabriel as though he were a goose gone mad. “Are ye daff, mon?” he said. “What are ye wantin’ with a wife if ye canna have the best o’ what comes wi’ her?”

“Leave it, Duncan.” the pastor’s wife said.

Again, the cranky pastor muttered something beneath his breath, and thrust his book into the wife’s hands. “Forasmuch as this man and this woman have consented to be together by giving and receiving a ring, I therefore declare them to be man and wife before God and these… witnesses” —he waved a hand, indicating his wife and a sleeping child— “in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen. Gae on tae bed,” he commanded his brood, shooing them off. “And dinna bar the door, Constance.” he said sternly, and with no small measure of disgust, he added, “You may now kiss your bride!”

Margaret let out a gasp, overwhelmed by the knowledge that they were now lawfully wed—she and this stranger who was staring so expectantly at her lips, with that smile that seemed so disconcertingly familiar.

Suddenly, she felt too hot, and she couldn’t breathe. But a promise was a promise, she reminded herself. Drawing ina fortifying breath, she puckered her lips, tilted her face up, squeezed her eyes closed, and waited, anticipating the warm brush of his lips…

“I believe I’ve changed my mind,” her husband said.

Margaret’s eyes flew wide. “Again?” Her brows collided. “What do you mean, you’ve changed your mind? You cannot change your mind! It’s too late!”

“You don’t wish to marry her?” the pastor asked, sounding bemused, though perhaps hopeful.

Margaret cast the man a withering glance.

“Of course I wish to marry her,” Gabriel said evenly. And more to Margaret, he said, “I simply don’t wish to kiss you, is all.”

Margaret’s face bloomed.

The pastor mumbled something uncharitable beneath his breath. “That’ll be half a guinea,” he demanded of Gabriel. “In all me bluidy days, I ha’e never seen the likes of this. Good luck, son! Ye’re gaein’ tae need it.”

Gabriel withdrew the appropriate payment from his pockets, offered an extra coin for the pastor’s troubles, thanked the man, gathered the necessary papers, looked them over, and then led Margaret out of the marrying house, leaving the pastor to complain quite bitterly, and the wife, having forgotten her whip for the time being, to soothe his riled temper.

7

Margaret was brooding.

It was all Gabriel could do not to chuckle with pleasure over that fact. Unconscionable though it might seem, he was quite satisfied with the reaction he’d wrought from her. She sat before him now, looking entirely perplexed, with her thoughts whirling behind those delightfully bewitching eyes. At the moment, he felt as giddy as he had that day before she’d said her goodbyes. He was once again that boy, dashing toward the hill, pasteboard in hand.

He realized only then how bloody disappointed he’d been that he’d never even shown her his silly pasteboard. More than anything, he’d craved the sound of her laughter—as he did right now.

But, of course, as it was on that fateful day, not all would go as he’d hoped. They’d gone directly to the inn and, hoping to procure a single room as husband and wife, Gabriel bribed the clerk to deny them two. Unscrupulous though it might be, he couldn’t muster any remorse. It wasn’t as though he intended to force her, but he’d hoped that a certain proximity would soften her mood—so, yes, perhaps he had meant to seduce her. ButMargaret refused the arrangement out of hand, opting to make the return journey to Blackwood, forcing them to ride another four bloody hours back to Blackwood.

No matter. Gabriel could wait.

He’d waited a lifetime already, and the rewards to be reaped were worth his patience.

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