And he had someone in mind.
He’d heard, long ago, that a distant cousin was a Blackchurch Guild trainer. Some relative on his wife’s side of the family. He knew that the Blackchurch Guild and Triton’s Hellions were allied through familial bloodlines. Everyone in western England knew that. But it had taken him a solid week to remember just which cousin served Blackchurch, and when he did, he did the intelligent thing by writing a letter to the older brother of the cousin who was a trainer. In any patriarchal structure, the eldest male was always in charge of the family, which meant the younger brother at Blackchurch was not in charge of his destiny so long as his brother had something to say about it.
That was exactly what Oscar was hoping for.
Therefore, he sent a missive to a Royston de Royans and very politely inquired as to whether or not the man’s brother was married. In a stroke of amazing fortune, he was told that not only was Creston not married, but he was far too old to still be unmarried and Royston was very interested in Oscar’s suggestion of a marriage between his granddaughter and Royston’s younger brother.
And here they were.
That was why Oscar had put up with Creston’s arrogance. That was why he’d let the man talk to him the way he had, with a rude tone and an even ruder manner. Oh, but he was so very wise to bite his tongue and let Creston threaten and intimidate him, because it was all part of his master plan. He was so close to marrying his granddaughter into Blackchurch, where he could force her to do his bidding once she was rooted. That was the plan, anyway. But what he intended was beyond destruction of Blackchurch and its pirate kin.
He intended total annihilation.
Once Oscar achieved his goal, the rest of the port alliance lords would once again look up to him and realize how intelligent and infallible he was. Make no mistake—this was allabout pride and ego to Oscar, but it was also about vengeance. Any man who got the upper hand on a major pirate faction and a warrior training guild would be a hero to many.
Oscar was determined to be that hero.
But he had to get his granddaughter married first.
As the sun began to rise on the day of the marriage, Oscar finally breathed a sigh of relief. He was closer to his end goals as the seconds of the day ticked away. A half-hour after dawn, as the priest said the final blessing over Creston and Ophelia, Oscar shed a tear. But not for the reason anyone thought.
His tears of joy were about something else entirely.
Now, his plan could go forward.
CHAPTER TEN
It had allhappened so… fast.
Suddenly, Ophelia was a married woman, the wife of a man she didn’t know. There was a distinct feeling of shock in that realization. However, she kept looking at Creston as he engaged in conversation with his friends, and there was more of a distinct shock that she was married to him. Not Cecil, buthim—a blond god of a man who was, by her own admission, perhaps the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
Her husband.
God’s Bones, but it was astonishing.
They were in The Black Cock following a morning wedding mass at the nearby church. The mass itself had been at the door of the church, in the cold light of morning, and the smell of damp earth and incense was enough to cause her to sneeze several times, much to the concern of her new husband and much to the displeasure of her grandfather. Ophelia had sneezed her head off.
But the blessing was finished, mass was said, and Ophelia and Creston returned to The Black Cock as husband and wife. When they arrived, they could see that Hobbes and Margit hadclosed the tavern to everyone but Blackchurch people, and a lavish feast had been prepared to celebrate the occasion.
Paid for by St. Denis.
Creston had been incredibly touched by the gesture, insisting that St. Denis have a place next to him at the table. With Ophelia on his right and St. Denis on his left, everyone else simply found their seats around the table that had been positioned in the middle of the tavern by putting together smaller tables, like a puzzle. Food and drink was brought out, and the dishes included several types of baked eggs or egg dishes, which Ophelia loved. Given she’d been forced to starve for the past couple of months, she was more than eager to dig into the delicious-smelling food, and Creston helped her dish spoonfuls of the stuff onto her trencher. He was lovely and attentive, and Ophelia truly felt special.
Until her mother took a seat on her right.
Down the table, Oscar had seated himself next to St. Denis.
“You mustn’t eat too much,” Randa said quietly. “You do not wish to grow plump too soon.”
Ophelia didn’t want to sit with her mother. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the woman, but here they were. She took comfort in the fact that Creston was now the only one she needed to take orders from. Gone were the days of being under her mother’s thumb.
Thank God for small mercies.
“I will eat as much as I please,” she told her mother as she spooned some baked egg and cheese into her mouth. “You needn’t worry about me any longer, Mother. Go back to Axen, or wherever you choose to go, and know that I will do quite well without you.”
Randa looked at her daughter. “Why do you say such things?”
“Because you left me vulnerable to Grandfather’s whims,” Ophelia snapped. “You never tried to protect me. You never even said to him that, mayhap, he shouldn’t starve me. You enabled his cruelty and I cannot forgive you for that.”
