“… I pronounce that they be man and wife.” McAloy wiped his forehead. “Congratulations, Your Grace. Now, to sign the register.”
Gabriel still held her hand and was reluctant to let it go. With his other, he pulled out his handkerchief.
“Come here.”
She threw him a wary look. Blast her. Was she going to be forevermore afraid of him?
He lifted his hand. She flinched. Dropping her hand, he held her chin and gently titled her face to him.
He wiped the mud off her cheek.
Her eyes widened as if this was the most unexpected thing he had done this entire day.
“There,” he said, gruffly. He was thoroughly ruffled.
“Your Grace. The signature.”
He turned to the altar and scribbled his signature on the parchment.
The girl fiddled with her spectacles and bent over the paper.
She scribbled an illegible signature. Then she froze and pointed with the quill at the paper.
“It says, Gabriel Eversleigh, the Duke of Dunross. That can’t be right?” Her voice was high-pitched.
“Of course it’s right. This is His Grace, the Duke of Dunross. And you’re Her Grace, the Duchess of Dunross now.” The reverend took the book.
“You’re a—a—duke?” It sounded like an accusation. Her hazel eyes widened in shock.
“What if I am?” Why did he say it in such bloody defensive way? Granted, he hadn’t wanted to inherit the title, but there was no reason to hide it, either. He knew he should’ve signed the letter as a duke, but had been reluctant to do so.
To his alarm, he saw her face drain of all colours.
She sobbed and laughed simultaneously.
This alarmed him even more.
“If only Arabella knew!” She sighed.
Then she crumpled to the floor.
Chapter 6
Birdie awoke lying on a threadbare sofa in the great hall. She was wrapped in a thick, woollen plaid, feeling warm and drowsy. A fire roared in the massive fireplace across from her.
Crikey. She hadn’t fainted, had she? She never fainted. And if she did, how had she ended up here? Hadhecarried her?
“No, Higgins, I asked, did you take up her bags, not, did she eat haggis.” That was his voice. Deep and harsh. Birdie shuddered.
Had she really just married him? She’d dreamed he was a duke.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Higgins replied. “Haggis we have to order down at the village. Do you want me to get some? We have porridge now for the wedding breakfast.”
Your Grace.She hadn’t dreamt it. She’d married the phantom in the tower. Oh dear, what had she done?
She turned her head and watched as Higgins shuffled towards the suit of armour next to the staircase. Eversleigh reacted quickly, took the man by his shoulders, and gently led him to the left, to prevent a collision. “The door is here. Hold on to the rail so you don’t fall. The stairs down are tricky.”
Birdie turned over on the sofa to see where they were, bumped into a side table next to it and toppled over an oil lamp. It clattered to the stone floor.
