“There is no one to give permission, Father,” Peyton said quickly. “I am an…. orphan. My father died six months ago and I have no living relatives.”
“And I am prepared to pay a handsome sum,” Alec put in on her heels, so as not to give the priest time to deny their request. “We have ridden a very long way and wish to be on the roadagain soon, properly wed in the eyes of God and England. Will you do this for us?”
The monsignor looked them over, head to toe, as if to determine the truth of their statements. “Your lady is not a fugitive or a captive?”
“Of course not,” Peyton said irritably, then quickly added, more politely: “We simply wish to be married, Father.”
Truthfully, there was nothing more the deacon could say. It was not uncommon to perform quick marriage ceremonies to those whose circumstances required it, and he was always pleased to marry a couple rather than have them commit sins of the flesh outside the bonds of matrimony.
He glanced at Peyton again, who certainly did not look the part of a fugitive or captive. The hulking knight next to her was the largest man he had ever seen and he had no desire to provoke his temper by a refusal. Better to get it done with quickly so they could be on their way.
“Very well then,” he said. “Follow me.”
Peyton felt a distinct tingling in her stomach to realize the monsignor would indeed marry them. In a short amount of time she would be Lady Summerlin, a title she found she would be proud to bear. Almost more than Lady Deveraux; aye, more than that even.
They followed the monsignor and the monk down the narrow hall and into a dimly lit chapel. Banks of expensive tallow candles burned dimly and two oil lamps blazed by the gilded altar. The monsignor moved to the other side of the altar and motioned Alec and Peyton to stand in front of him.
Kissing the scarlet silk mantle offered to him by the monk, the monsignor donned his cape of office as the monk and another brother moved to prepare a few necessary items for the ceremony.
The monsignor wasted no time. Draping the scarlet mantle about his shoulders, he made the sign of the cross before the couple and began to intone the marriage mass. Peyton tried to listen to his words, his monotonous tone, but her attention was continually diverted by the fact that she was actually getting married. It was happening so quickly that she could scarcely believe its actuality, and even though Alec wasn’t touching her, she could feel his body heat like a roaring blaze. This man whom she had come to know more intimately than she had ever known anyone in her entire life was to be her husband. Not James, but Alec.
The priest droned onward and recited a prayer, to which Alec crossed himself and murmured a response. Swiftly, he knelt and pulled Peyton with him, who made the sign of the cross and mumbled her response a split second later. She was supposed to close her eyes, for the monsignor was repeating a marriage invocation, but she couldn’t seem to keep her lids sealed.
The enormity of the entire situation was weighing heavily on her and she was having difficulty concentrating. She always thought her wedding would be a huge affair, full of flowers and music with Ivy by her side. Instead, she found herself in a chapel in a distant city being married by a man who appeared to be running a race to conclude the marriage sacrament.
But the evidence remained; she was getting married. In fact, she was already married. Married to a man she felt closer to in three days than she had felt with James during the ten years they had known one another. She wondered seriously why she and Alec were so comfortable with one another, as if each understood the other’s character without question and accepted it as such.
It was odd and wonderful, and she almost did not feel as if she were betraying James anymore. Certainly he would want her to be happy, would not he? Or had he expected her to play thepart of the devastated lover for the rest of her life? Knowing the man as she had, he could be selfish and petty. But she refused to believe that he would have demanded she remain true to his memory.
Even if an order for faithfulness had been his dying declaration, she realized she would have willingly betrayed him for Alec.
The monsignor made the sign of the cross again and Alec rose, gently pulling Peyton to stand beside him. The priest mumbled a binding prayer and bade the couple to drink from a common chalice. The wine was vinegary and tart, and Peyton gazed deep into Alec’s eyes as she took a healthy swallow. They continued to stare at each other as the monsignor said the final blessing and informed the new husband that he was allowed to kiss his bride. Lady Peyton de Fluornoy Summerlin received a chaste kiss from her husband.
Alec gave her a wink and immediately thanked the monsignor, paying the man with a twenty mark gold piece and five additional one mark gold pieces. All in all, an extremely expensive ceremony and Peyton watched him through somewhat dazed eyes; she could hardly believe they were actually wed even as the evidence of that bought union exchanged hands.
A lesser brother drew up the marriage contracts, one copy for Alec and another copy for the church’s records. Peyton was able to sign her name to the church’s register, having to ask her new husband how to spell his last name. She nearly spelled it Summerlyn, much to his amusement, but he commented that he liked the spelling better that way. Without further delay, he escorted his wife from the church out into the dark night, the freshly sanded marriage contract clutched carefully in his massive fist.
“What now?” she asked as he untethered Midas.
“That will depend on you,” he said, fumbling with the reins. “We can either ride back to Blackstone and face my father’s wrath immediately, or we can steal away for a few blissful hours at an inn.”
She smiled. “I choose the inn.”
He matched her grin. “I thought so.”
He lifted her onto his horse and mounted behind her. “I know of a quiet tavern near the edge of town. The proprietor and I are old friends.”
She yawned happily, the events of the night sinking in and a healthy joy settling. “Well and good. He can keep you occupied for the rest of the night while I sleep.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I think not, Lady Summerlin. You will occupy my attention, asleep or not.”
“But you promised to leave me alone to recover.”
“I lied.”
She giggled as Midas clip-clopped down the cobbled road.
Alec reined his horse in front of a bustling tavern, eyeing the establishment as he dismounted. Peyton, too, looked surprised at all the activity.
