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“I’ve not been married before. Will you help me prepare?”
“Of course, but—”
She pulled Sara from the bed with both hands and tried to smile. It felt more like a grimace. “Then come. We’ve a wedding to prepare for.”
Though her feet felt as if they were made of iron, she forced them to move.
I will not think of Garrick. I will not think of Garrick.
Sara looked as if she wanted to say something but changed her mind. Emma held back hot, stinging tears, trying to put thoughts of the earl out of her head.
27
Garrick!”
He heard the shout behind him, but Garrick would not slow down. He urged Bayard and his gift forward, ignoring Conrad . . . or at least attempting to.
“Garrick.”
When he shifted to look back, Bayard instinctively slowed just enough to allow Conrad to reach him.
“If you plan to marry the Waryn girl, getting yourself killed en route will not help your cause.”
He relented, if only to cease Conrad’s incessant admonishments for him to slow down.
Now on Caiser land, Garrick couldn’t get to his love quickly enough. He would have made the trip the previous night if not for the rising tide, which turned Clave into an island twice a day.
“I’m anxious to get to know the woman you’d have started a war to wed.”
“And nearly did,” Garrick replied.
He’d expected Magnus to fly into a rage when he approached him the previous evening, and indeed, the Scotsman would have attempted to cleave off his head had he not been armed. Magnus had charged at Garrick, bellowing as only a warrior going into battle could do. His roar had echoed off the stone walls of his solar, servants from as far away as the great hall likely overhearing the exchange, and if Conrad had not been present to intervene, it would have gone very badly for him. And then a miracle had happened.
“What do you suppose Magnus would have done had his daughter not declared her pregnancy?”
“I don’t know,” he said, angling Bayard around a brood of hens that had wandered onto the road. The dry, hard earth beneath Bayard’s hooves allowed for a faster pace for which Garrick was grateful.
“You’ve the luck of the devil, my friend.”
Garrick didn’t believe in luck, but given Conrad’s superstitious nature, he’d not argue.
Just when it seemed certain Magnus would attempt to end his life, Alison, who’d stood quietly to the side up until that point, burst into tears. Garrick had asked for her to be there, a decision that would prove fateful. Her father’s face practically turned purple when she blurted out that she’d no wish to marry Garrick either. She was in love with another, although she refused to give her father his name. Of course, Magnus did not care what she thought and said so.
But when she burst out, “I am with child,” she had her father’s attention.
“Do you suppose Magnus will forgive her?”
“I’d like to believe so,” he said, grateful for Conrad’s attempt to distract him. Garrick had spent a sleepless night preparing his speech to Waryn. For the first time since he’d met Emma, he allowed himself to imagine their future. Making love to her, waking up to a woman who would bring life back to Clave.
“I’m sorry I’ve not supported you in this.”
He glanced over at the man he’d known for most of his life. Conrad, rarely serious, looked back at him, his lips set and expression grim.
“You were right not to,” he said.
“I won’t pretend to understand it. To risk so much for a woman.”
He’d have said the same before meeting Emma. Someday, perhaps Conrad would be fortunate enough to learn just how far a man would go to be with the woman he loved.
