Page 97 of The Unforgiven
“I don’t want one.”
Gabe lifted his gaze to hers. “Have you changed your mind about marrying me?” He looked stunned, as if he’d just been punched in the gut.
“No, my love,” Quinn replied, smiling up at him. “Marrying you is about the only thing I’m sure about at this moment, but I don’t want a circus, which it’s sure to become given the incredibly dysfunctional nature of all these newly minted relationships. All I want is you, me, and Emma.”
“Our parents will never forgive us. All our parents. Well, mostly yours,” he joked. “That’s half a dozen people at this stage.”
“No, they probably won’t, but this is about us, and our children. I don’t want it to become about jealousy, resentment, unfinished business, or blame. I just want to sneak away and tie the knot.”
“We can get married right here, right now. I’m sure they have a chaplain on the premises,” Gabe suggested.
“As romantic as that sounds, I’m not getting married in a hospital gown with my bum hanging out.”
“There you go complicating things again,” he replied, rolling his eyes and making Quinn laugh.
“I want to get married in England, somewhere that’s special for both of us.”
“And where would that be?” Gabe asked, his interest piqued.
“I know just the place,” Quinn replied with a cryptic smile. “You just get the rings and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“As long as by ‘the rest,’ you mean inviting my mum and your parents. We can’t get married without them. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Okay. You win,” she conceded with a smile. “I would have invited them anyway. And of course, we’ll need a maid of honor and a best man.”
“Pete.”
“Jill.”
“That’s settled then. So, where is this magical place then?” Gabe asked.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.”
FIFTY-TWO
JUNE 2014
Glastonbury, England
The day dawned rainy and gray, but by dinnertime, the clouds had dispersed, leaving the sky a brilliant blue as clear as a looking glass. The inclement weather had driven the tourists away, leaving the site nearly deserted, which was perfect. Quinn stood just outside St. Michael’s tower and took in the surrounding countryside that probably hadn’t changed much since the time of King Arthur and his Camelot. Glastonbury Tor rose above the hills and valleys, its roofless tower reaching toward the heavens and marking the tallest point of the Isle of Avalon.
The sun began to set, painting the sky in almost violent shades of vermillion, gold, and aubergine. A shaft of blood-red sunlight pierced the archway of the tower and set it aglow, the sun’s final act before darkness claimed this mystical place. To Quinn, there was no more fitting spot for two archeologists to make their own history.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Gabe said as he came up behind Quinn and wrapped his arms around her, his hands resting on her rounded belly.
“I’ve no words,” she breathed as she watched the sunset.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
Gabe took Quinn by the hand and led her inside the tower where a small group of people had gathered to witness the ceremony. Susan and Roger Allenby, who’d flown in from Spain a fortnight ago, Phoebe Russell, Jill Allenby, and Pete and Brenda McGann were quietly chatting, while Emma danced around in herwhite frock, the flowers in her hair doing a dance of their own every time she twirled.
Reverend Trent took his place. “If everyone is ready,” he said, smiling at the small assembly.
Jill and Pete took their places next to Quinn and Gabe, while the parents stepped back to give the bridal party some space. Brenda stood off to the side, camera at the ready. She’d been appointed the event photographer.
Gabe held out his hand to Emma. She took it and stood in front of Quinn and Gabe, her face alight with wonder.
