Page 35 of Good Duke Gone Wild

The vicar’s hands were clasped, and he held Jude’s gaze with a knowing look. The type a father gave to his son in chastisement.

But…wait…what?

Agatha’s glimmering eyes drew him in. “We’re getting married.”

Rage tore through his body, shredding his organs as it devoured him. “You’re marrying Sprat?”

Her little giggle did nothing to ease his tension. “No, silly. I’m marrying you.”

He spluttered. He actually spluttered, all over her face. Over the last four-and-twenty hours he had done more spluttering than was acceptable for a man of his age. A person of any age past two, really. “What?”

“We’re getting married, Jude.” She tucked her hand around his forearm, as if it were something they always did. “Don’t you remember,darling?”

No. He didn’t remember. It wasn’t something to be remembered. She was making it all up. Just as he had known. She was a liar—

“Last night, in bed—”

“Agatha—” he glared at her, shocked that she would mention such scandal in front of the vicar. But the man of God only narrowed his eyes at Jude.

“Upon my honor,” her hand rose to her chest, and her eyes shimmered with wetness, “you swore you would make an honest woman of me.”

Oh my God. What was she talking about? And Sprat? How was he involved in this? Why was he dressed in such fine clothing? And the vicar? Where had this all come from?

And because surely he had been thinking his questions so loudly that someone had heard him, Sprat approached cautiously.

“Best you just do as the lady says, lest she make a fool of you. Of all of us.” And then the kick to the gut came. “It’s the right thing to do considering your relations with her.”

God. How had this happened? Itwasthe honorable thing to do. Of course he knew that. He knew that before he took her innocence, so why should he be so shocked right now? Had he really hoped to get away with it? Butgetting away with itsounded so depraved. He didn’t want to get away with or from anything, did he? And now, there were witnesses. A damn man of the church, and his first mate.

And it was Agatha.

His heart stilled. He heard nothing. No one’s voices. Not the sound of the breeze through the trees or the sea that was always in his ear.

Only that one name. Agatha.

She was a force to be reckoned with. The type of woman to go after what she wanted, letting nothing and no one get in her way. There was no stopping her. The force, motivation, and passion fueling her was relentless. And wasn’t that something to be admired? Perhaps from afar. Not as her husband.

But…then again. If she was as relentless as he knew her to be, he didn’t see himself getting out of this quickly and unscathed. If he fought this now, and he could—he could haul her over his shoulder all the way back to the ship—then he would be a hypocrite in front of his entire crew. He was the one that had instilled them a respect for women and their choices. Their free will. If he dragged a woman kicking and screaming back to his ship and to a cabin in which they all (by now) assumed he had slept with her in, he would lose all their respect.

And if he married her now, Sprat might think that Agatha had him by the bollocks, by at least that was only one man. Because God knows that back on the ship, he wouldn’t be telling anyone about this little marriage. Or if the gossip did spill out, of course it had been his idea to do it in the first place.

This woman had put him in a sticky predicament. One of the stickiest, if he was ranking them. And he had always trusted his gut to read people and do what was necessary to de-escalate any situation.

But right now…he really felt…all the stickiness.

Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

Agatha.

He would marry her now. The decision was made in his mind. Butnow, that was the keyword. They would sort out this illegal wedding once they returned home. There was no point in arguing against her here.

No bans had been read. No special license secured. This wouldn’t hold up in England. May as well get the blasted thing over with. Perhaps he’d haul her up the ship on his shoulder after it was all said and done anyway, just to prove a point.

And that’s how Jude found himself in a small parish church, holding Agatha’s hands in his, vowing to protect her.

Admittedly, his favorite part in the vows was her agreement to obey him. That sounded quite nice actually. If he said,Time to go home, Agatha.She would have to obey him.Back to England with you, my girl.She’d be escorted right off the ship.Swab the deck! Clean out the bilge!Ha. Those last two in particular made him laugh to himself. Even with being married to her, he was pretty sure the most she’d be willing to obey would beMend the sails!Then again, he would never ask her to do such a dangerous task.

Ah well, this marriage thing might not be so bad. Fake marriage thing, he corrected himself. So long as they were married, she had to obey him. Perfect.

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