Page 46 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
Quickly, she loosened the gold ring that still encircled her finger. Her wedding finger. The gold ring that Frank had slipped on claiming her for his own, all those months ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago, now. She had been another woman entirely. Had it truly been she, who had stood at the altar beside him, vowing to love, honour, and obey, for the rest of her life? She would not recognise that woman at all, now. She did not know her in the slightest.
It was a little bit tight. She tugged at it before it suddenly came off her finger, lying in the palm of her hand.
She stared down at it for a moment, as the rain kept falling around them. It felt good to have it off her finger. She didn’t know why she hadn’t done it months ago.
And then, she hurled it, throwing it, with all of her might. She could see it spinning like a top in the air, the glint of gold against the grey sky, before the rain subsumed it entirely, almost swallowing it, so she had no idea where it landed.
It was gone forever. Just like her first marriage was gone. She was glad that she had not kept it as a memento, for there was nothing to feel nostalgic about. The court had officially ruled that her first marriage no longer existed, but it had always been that way. She had never been a married woman, in any manner. She had certainly never loved the man.
She smiled slowly, thinking about how scared and alone she had felt, the morning she had discovered that Frank had deserted her, thinking that her life was over. If only she had known what was ahead. If only she had known that another man was about to step out of the shadows, blinding her entirely. A man who was finally going to show her what real love was. A real man who knew how to love and be loved, in return.
“Come on,” he yelled, gazing at her as if she had gone crazy. “Time is ticking …”
She laughed again. And then, she took his hand once more, running into the house, and into the future, that awaited them both.
She simply could not wait.
Chapter 20
Hetty gazed out the window of the carriage, feeling as if she were in some kind of trance. The landscape had changed; they had been on the road for hours, now, heading through England, towards Scotland. The hills were not so green, here; almost tawny brown, in colour, and rocky. So very different to the verdant green of her home county in southern England.
Louis leant close to her, peering over her shoulder, out the window. “We are almost there,” he said in a low voice. “We are just about to cross the border into Scotland, from Northumberland.” He paused, gazing at her steadily. “Not long now to Gretna Green, my love.”
She felt a low thrum of excitement building within her at his words. She had heard of Gretna Green often, over the years, of course. It was the place where lovers fled to, to marry, without their parents’ consent, if they were underage, or did not have permission, for whatever reason. The name of the town had always had a slightly romantic, dangerous ring to it. When she was younger, she could not imagine why anyone would do such a drastic thing. She hadn’t understood, then, how desperate people in love could become.
She understood it now.
She sighed, nestling into Louis’s shoulder. She knew that if he could have, he would have given her a full church wedding, with all the trimmings, surrounded by family and friends. He wouldn’t have made her flee to Scotland to marry over the blacksmith’s anvil, insecrecy. She prodded her feelings gently, surprised to discover that there were no residual feelings of shame about this. That, in fact, she was so very pleased that they were taking this trip together, and that it would only be the two of them when they finally exchanged their vows.
She had once had the full church wedding that had cost her father a small fortune. She had been dressed in an expensive wedding gown, and there had been over a hundred people at her fancy wedding breakfast. And look where it had ended up. A proper wedding did not mean that the marriage was going to be good, at all.
She much preferred what was to come, as long as this man was by her side.
She gazed out the window again. They were just about to cross the border into another country. And she felt as if she were crossing another threshold, as well. The threshold between her old life and her new one.
***
She sat in the corner of the old inn, in Gretna Green, waiting for Louis, who was speaking to the blacksmith, arranging their ceremony. Even though it was dark, now, and they were both weary from the journey, he told her that he could not wait for morning. They would be married, this night, even if he had to pay double what was normally the rate for the services of an anvil priest.
She sighed, peering out the window of the inn. She could not see much of the town in the dark, but what she had seen surprised her. It was so very small, only a few shops and houses scattered around. Somehow, because the town was so notorious, she had expected it to be bigger.
She squirmed impatiently. Louis was taking longer than he had told her. Was something wrong? Perhaps he could not find a priest to perform the ceremony, so late into the evening. Perhaps they would have to wait until morning, despite his best efforts.
She smiled slowly. Even though she was as eager to marry him as he was to marry her, that would not be so tragic, after all. They had waited a long time for this chance to arrive. Another night would not mean anything in the end.
And there was another pressing reason why she would not be too disappointed if they could not wed tonight. She knew that despite their weariness after the long journey, that he would want to take her immediately. He had vowed that he would wait until their wedding night to fully make love to her, and she knew, by the hungriness in his eyes, that his patience in that regard was wearing very thin.
She trembled with that old fear. As much as she wanted to make love to him, just as much as he wanted to make love to her, she was still a maiden, and she did not know what to expect. Her mother had intimated to her the night before her first wedding that she should expect some pain the first time. But she simply had no idea how painful it would be. Would she cry out and push him away, instinctively? She desired him so much, but would it be different at that pivotal moment?
She knew that it must happen, but she was apprehensive. If they had to wait another night, she could compose herself, just a little more. She hadn’t been expecting this today, after all, and hadn’t had time to prepare herself. Perhaps it would be a good thing if they were forced to wait.
But at that moment, she saw him walking quickly out of the blacksmith’s shop. She saw, by the spring in his step, that he had secured the priest.
Her mouth suddenly went dry. They were about to be married. The time had finally arrived.
***
Hetty gasped as she ducked her head, walking into the blacksmith’s shop, gazing around in sheer wonder.
