Page 34 of Never Kiss a Scot
“Kincade?” Mrs. Wilcox blinked. “I didna catch his name at first. Child, we know the Kincades here.” Mrs. Wilcox put a gentle hand on Joanna’s shoulder. “Ye sure ye wish to marry him? They say his father was quite a brute.”
“I’m quite sure. Lord Kincade takes after his mother, not his father.” At least she believed he did. She didn’t know much about his mother, but the Brock she had known for the last few days was anything but a monster.
“Very well, if yer quite sure.”
“I am quite sure.” Joanna and Mrs. Wilcox returned to the main room, and Joanna looked at Brock who stood near a black anvil on a pedestal. He produced a length of pink ribbon from his pocket that looked suspiciously like one of her hair ribbons from her bag. It brought back a wave of heated memories of that first night they had met, when he had bound her hands with her sash and used a hair ribbon to gag her. Though that had been a frightening moment, he had been gentle, kind, and, in hindsight, only trying to protect his sister.
“We are ready,” Mrs. Wilcox announced, and she escorted Joanna up to the anvil.
Joanna had a moment of despair and heartache for the loneliness of this moment. Only strangers were here to witness one of the most important moments in her life. Her mother and brothers, her older sister, her friends…not one of them would see this.
She looked to her future husband. Brock’s eyes were solemn. Perhaps she saw the same sorrow in his eyes, that his siblings were far away during such a momentous occasion.
“I wish our families were here,” she whispered. He reached up to cup her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over her lips.
His gray-blue eyes softened on her face. “As do I, but we dinna have another way.”
No, they didn’t.
“Are you ready, Joanna?” He said her name so sweetly that she fought off tears and nodded.
“I am.”
Mr. Lang cleared his throat as he stood in front of them. “What are your names?”
“Brock Kincade.”
“Joanna Lennox.”
“Where do you reside currently?” Lang asked.
They each answered, and then Lang inquired if they were both single persons.
“Aye,” Brock said at the same time Joanna replied, “Yes.”
“An’ did you come here of your own free will and accord?” Lang waited for the answer in the affirmative, and then he produced a printed marriage certificate, filling in their names on a part of the page with the pen provided by Mr. Gregory.
“Lord Kincade, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, forsaking all others, keep to her as long as you both shall live?”
Brock smiled at Joanna. “I do.”
“Miss Lennox, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, forsaking all others, keep to him as long as you both shall live?”
Joanna stared into Brock’s stormy eyes, seeing the hope and the longing there, and her heart fluttered wildly.
“Yes, I do.”
Mr. Lang held out a ring to Brock, who took it. It was a silver band, simple in design.
“Put it on her fourth finger of her left hand and repeat after me. ‘With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship. With all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the father, son, and Holy Ghost, amen.’”
Brock slid the ring onto her finger and spoke the words, his voice strong and his brogue thick as he stared at her intensely.
“Now hold hands.” Lang took the ribbon from Brock. Once they joined hands, he made a small cut on their palms with a blade. Joanna winced at the sting of the cut, but she pressed her palm together with Brock’s. Lang banded the ribbon to their wrists in a hand fasting. She knew it wasn’t necessary, that their wedding was already legal, but Brock had seemed to want to have an older custom to represent their joining. She rather liked that.
“Now, Miss Lennox, repeat after me. ‘What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.’”
Joanna spoke the words, and something deep inside her changed. She felt connected to him, bound by an ancient magic that could never be undone, nor did she want it to be.
