Page 33 of Never Kiss a Scot
She squeezed his hand lightly. “I will be happy, and I hope someday you find your own happiness.” She wanted Rafe to be happy, to have a life of joy and to put the darkness in him away. But she feared it may be years before that happened.
The hunting lodge door opened, and Brock strode in. His coat swirled around his knees, and the breeze played with his hair. He smiled when he saw her. That smile removed any doubt she had about her choice to be here with him. His smile knocked her knees together and made her feel like she could fly all at the same time. It made her feel like she was the only woman in the entire world and she was the only thing that mattered to him.
“Lass, you do look bonny in the morning.” He strode toward her, heat burning in his eyes, but he slowed when he saw Rafe cross his arms, a slight frown upon his lips. Joanna shoved an elbow into her brother’s ribs and rose from the table. It would have been lovely to have another kiss with Brock, but Rafe might change his mind about approving their plans. Rafe and his friends outnumbered her and Brock.
“I’m ready to leave.” She checked to make sure her cloak was secure and removed her riding gloves from her pockets, tugging them on.
“Be careful, Joanna.” Rafe embraced her tightly, and for a moment she didn’t want to let go. She was not weak, and she would not let childish fears to stop her. She released Rafe, blinking rapidly to hide the burn of tears, and turned to face Brock. He was studying her closely, worry knitting his brows.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded and accepted the hand he held out to her. She waved goodbye to Rafe as he followed them out of the hunting lodge. She let Brock help her up onto her horse, and she winced at the soreness as she took her seat in the saddle.
Brock placed a hand on her thigh, the touch sweet rather than seductive. “It’s not far now. Can you make it a few more hours?”
“I can,” she assured him. Even if she couldn’t sit down for several days afterward, she would do anything to make it to Gretna Green before Ashton caught up with them.
As they left the hunting lodge behind them, Joanna grew more rigid as her nerves took over. With each passing minute they were closer to Scotland, and she would soon be married. She glanced at Brock, the impressive man who rode slightly ahead of her, leading the way. She trembled a little at the thought of what would follow, for she knew the rumors about what followed these hasty weddings. They had to be consummated immediately, to avoid a male relative challenging the marriage’s validity and try to have it annulled. Ashton would challenge her wedding, which meant she and Brock would do more than share a bed this evening. They would… She blushed at the thought and was so relieved he could not see her face while he rode ahead of her.
They stopped to rest the horses two hours later.
“We’ll soon be at Headless Cross,” Brock said.
“Headless Cross?” Joanna leaned against her mare as her horse drank from the small stream Brock had led them to.
“’Tis the place where five coaching roads meet and is also the heart of the village of Gretna Green. The blacksmith shop is the first place you’ll see when we arrive. ’Tis why couples tend to marry there. They dinna always have time to go farther into the village.”
“Is that where we will be married?” Joanna asked.
He nodded and held up a few slices of apple to each horse before he clicked his tongue, catching both horses’ attention and pulling them away from the stream.
“There is a man there, David Lang, who will wed us.” He helped Joanna up, and once more they were riding quickly. “Then we must consummate the marriage at one of the inns so your brother canna challenge it with an annulment.”
When they reached the main road on the southern border between Scotland and England, they passed through Longtown, the last English town before the border to Scotland. Brock didn’t slow his horse, but sped up a little as they trotted down the street. Joanna noticed the townsfolk kept well out of the way, no doubt used to the road being trafficked by madly dashing coaches.
Another short half hour passed, and Brock slowed as a village came into view. Joanna pulled up a little on her reins, patting Kaylee’s neck and getting a better look at what had to be Gretna Green. It was a very small village, filled with only a few clay houses. The quaint parish kirk was in the distance. Old stones had been cobbled together into a respectable church. A minister’s house was close to the kirk, and puffs of smoke curled up from the chimney while someone cooked dinner. Joanna’s stomach grumbled. There was a rather large inn that she knew from its position offered a fine view of Solway, past Carlisle and the Cumberland hills. But the building immediately present was a brick structure with an open forge at the front.
The blacksmith’s shop.
“Wait here, lass.” Brock stopped at the hitching post outside the shop before he entered the back door. A moment later he returned with a tall man in black breeches and a black waistcoat. He looked to be in his midsixties, and there was a shrewd, businesslike manner to him.
“Joanna, this is Mr. Lang. He has consented to marry us.”
She greeted Lang with a smile, despite the flutter of nerves inside her.
“Come with me,” Lang said, and waved for Joanna and Brock to follow him into the back of the shop. They entered a surprisingly tidy room. The walls were freshly painted white, and several windows let in sunlight, making it feel rather cheery. There were two chairs in the room. One was occupied by an elderly man who smiled at them and the other by a middle-aged woman who was knitting a shawl. She stood when she saw Brock and Joanna.
“These are your witnesses, Mr. Gregory and Mrs. Wilcox.”
Joanna and Brock shook hands with both of them, and then Mrs. Wilcox pulled Joanna aside into a small room away from Brock to speak privately with her.
“Are ye here of yer own free will, lassie?” Mrs. Wilcox’s role here must be to rescue any young lady who might have been kidnapped or coerced into an anvil marriage.
“Yes.”
“And ye want to marry, er… What’s his name?”
“Brock Kincade.”
