Skye awoke on Christmas morning to find the quaint room at the Black Horse Inn bathed in the soft glow of dawn. Stretching beneath the down comforter, she smiled, remembering where she was. Today was the day she would become Mrs. Bradford Seymore, Marchioness Greenwich.
The man in question was still sleeping soundly beside her, one arm draped casually over her waist. Skye took a moment to admire Bradford’s handsome features relaxed in slumber. Her heart swelled with love for this complex man who had completely stolen it.
Unable to resist, she leaned over and placed a line of feather-light kisses along his jaw. He stirred, a slow smile spreading across his face before his eyes even opened.
“Good morning, my darling,” he murmured, pulling her closer. “How did you sleep?”
“Wonderfully,” she sighed, snuggling into the warmth of his embrace. Outside, fat snowflakes drifted past the frosted windowpanes. “And it’s snowing again! It will be a perfect Christmas wedding.”
Bradford chuckled, the sound rumbling pleasantly beneath her cheek. “As long as I am marrying you, my love, it could be raining fire and brimstone and it would still be perfect.”
Skye lifted her head to meet his adoring gaze, then brought her lips to his in a long, lingering kiss. When they finally broke apart, she whispered, “I cannot wait to be your wife.”
He stroked her hair tenderly. “The feeling is entirely mutual. Now come, let us begin this glorious day!”
Hand in hand, they readied themselves to explore the charms of Gretna Green before their intimate Christmas ceremony. Skye’s heart overflowed with joy and anticipation. This was a day she would cherish for the rest of her life.
Once outside, she took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp winter air as she and Bradford strolled arm-in-arm down the quaint village lanes of Gretna Green. Everywhere she looked, the holiday spirit was on full display. Wreaths with big red bows adorned each door, while strings of holly and evergreen garlands wrapped around lampposts and storefronts.
“Oh Bradford, isn’t it magical?” Skye sighed, squeezing his arm a little tighter.
“It certainly is, darling,” he replied, patting her hand affectionately as they walked. “But not nearly as magical as you.”
Hand in hand, they continued their stroll through the village, stopping frequently for stolen kisses and tender embraces.
She let out a delighted gasp as they turned a corner. Before them stood the famous Blacksmith’s Shop, where they would soon exchange their vows. Seeing the historic building blanketed in snow, smoke swirling from its chimney filled her heart with joy.
As they drew nearer, Bradford suddenly swept her up into his arms. She let out a surprised laugh as he carried her across the threshold.
“I thought I’d practice for later,” he said with a roguish wink, before capturing her lips in a searing kiss.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Bradford set her down gently. Together they stepped further into the building, taking in the rustic charm of the space. The blacksmith’s forge remained at the center of the room, smoke still rising from the coals.
“Lord Greenwich, welcome. ‘Tis a right honor to marry ye and this enchanting young lady,” the blacksmith said, moving to stand behind the anvil. “I have my wife and daughter here to bear witness.”
Bradford took Skye’s hand in his, his eyes shining with adoration. “Thank you, sir. We are honored to be married in such a lovely place.”
The blacksmith smiled broadly and gestured to a small table draped in a crisp white cloth. “If ye will just sign the register, we can begin.”
Bradford took the quill and carefully signed his name, then handed the quill to Skye and smiled as she signed hers. The blacksmith nodded in approval before waving them over to stand before the anvil.
With the warmth of the coals heating the space, Bradford took Skye’s hands in his. Looking deeply into her eyes, he recited his vows, his voice confident and unwavering. Skye felt tears of joy brimming in her eyes as she vowed to love and cherish him forevermore.
As the ceremony drew to a close and the blacksmith pronounced them man and wife, Bradford lifted Skye up into his arms, twirling her around. The two newlyweds shared a laugh, basking in the glow of their love.
When they exited the blacksmith’s shop, cheers and applause from the villagers of Gretna Green greeted them. They shared a kiss beneath the falling snowflakes, feeling the warmth of their love bubbling up within them.
The journey back to Yorkshire was one of both elation and longing for the newlyweds. Though sad to bid farewell to idyllic Gretna Green and the private journey they had been on, Bradford and Skye’s hearts swelled with joy for the life they would build together.
As the carriage rumbled down the snowy road, Bradford pulled Skye into his arms. She melted against him, sighing contentedly as he trailed kisses along her neck.
“My beautiful wife,” he murmured against her skin. Skye’s pulse quickened at the desire in his voice.
Their kisses grew more heated, hands roaming eagerly across each other’s bodies. His expert touch soon had her gasping in pleasure.
“I cannot wait a moment longer,” he rasped. In response, she captured his lips hungrily.
Passion ignited between them as the carriage swayed, the frozen landscape racing past the fogged window. They came together again and again, reveling in newlywed bliss.
