“Alicia,” he repeated between wracking breaths, “Alicia. You are here. You are really here.”
“Shh,” she crooned. “I am here now.” She didn’t dare touch his face, so she fisted her hands in the fabric of his waistcoat, holding him close. “I am fine. Just tired.” So, so tired.
He touched his forehead to hers. “And you must never leave.”
“I would have stayed last time,” her voice quivered, “if you had asked.”
“I tried. I swear I tried.”
“What do you mean?”
“The coach was a league ahead. It kept appearing then disappearing in the fog.” His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. “I thought he’d stay on the less traveled road.”
Fog collected inside her mind, but shefeltthat day. The feeling he was near—the sense of madness. “You followed the coach?”
“Yes,” he said. He kissed her cheeks, her nose and her forehead. “But I lost you.”
He had come. He hadn’t abandoned her. Could it possibly be true?
“My lady,” he breathed.
“My lady,” she whispered. “I never became accustomed to being addressed such.”
He smoothed her hair away from her face. “How about Your Grace?”
She blinked. “Pardon?”
“I—I may never be fully whole, but I entrust my broken self to you with a promise of love and loyalty for all my days. Forgive me, Alicia. I love you. I love you, and I want you to be my wife.”
“Oh Ash.”
He bit his lip. “I don’t know what that sound in your voice means.”
She turned her head and placed her ear on his heart. “Ask me what I hear.”
“What do you hear?”
“Love.” She drew back and cupped his neck. She smiled a weepy smile. “If you’ll have me—us, I mean—then yes. I love you, Ashbey—body, heart, and soul.”
She yelped as Ash lifted her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“I am taking you to church, so you can repeat that promise before God—and the vicar.”
She started to laugh. “You are mad.”
“No—finally not.”
“You can’t carry me the whole way down to the village,” she said, though he was doing just that. “You are carrying two.”
It was his turn to shush. He told her to rest. She gave up arguing and tucked her head beneath his chin, snuggling close. It was the best feeling she’d ever had.
The churchyard was full of carriages. Ash didn’t care. He kicked open the door. A child let the bell rope fall. The congregation, who had been preparing to leave, collectively gasped.
“If you would, vicar. I have a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury.”
Shouting sounded from the yard. Then, Cheverley rushed inside the church. “Lud, Ash, you are hard to follow.” He winced. “Sorry, vicar. Name in vain, and all that.” He looked over his shoulder. “Hurtheven! You had better hurry.”
