After leaving Belle in the capable hands of her aunt and sister-in-law, Ian and Hamilton went in search of Thorn.

* * *

It had been much too close. If William hadn’t insisted on Thorn going with the two fools he had hired to abduct Lady Annabelle, William would have been waiting inside Thorn’s lodgings when the angry Scotsman and Lady Annabelle’s brother came riding up. Instead he had been sneaking around the back alleyway and had barely taken time to glimpse the two gentlemen on his flight from Thorn’s lodgings. They wouldn’t find much there. No one knew of his connection to Thorn. No one except Thorn, and dead men could not tell tales.

Lady Hamilton must have told her husband about the blackmail. She had ruined his plan and he would have his revenge. First, though, he would get vengeance on the laird for besting him. No one bested Squire William Renton without paying dearly for the privilege.

Chapter Eighteen

Annabelle shivered, but it was not from cold in the cavernous sanctuary of St.

Georges. Apprehension caused Annabelle’s skin to prickle with gooseflesh as she stood at the back of the church clutching Robert’s arm. Everything had taken on an unreal quality when he and Ian had returned the evening before with the news that Mr. Thorn was dead.

Annabelle’s heart raced with the fear that by marrying Ian, she was exposing him to the dangerous plans of a madman. She had tried to persuade Ian to wait on the wedding until they could track down Renton. Ian refused. The only change he had been willing to make in their course of action, indeed demanded they make, was that they were to leave for Graenfrae directly after the wedding breakfast.

He would have left right after the wedding, but even Ian could not move Aunt Griselda once her mind was set. Annabelle’s aunt was determined to give her a proper wedding breakfast, even though she could not have a full-blown society wedding.

At some signal that Annabelle did not see, Robert stiffened beside her. He laid his gloved hand over her own and squeezed her fingers. “You are doing the right thing. Do not fret.”

His words did little to tamp down the fear that threatened to spiral out of control. The few guests that Ian had allowed and Aunt Griselda had insisted on watched her formal procession down the aisle. Ian stood next to the priest, Ceddy at his side. His eyes rested on her with an intensity that both calmed and disturbed her. It made no sense, but there it was.

Within moments, the source of Annabelle’s fear stood beside her. He turned her insides to jelly. She loved him and this marriage would put him in danger. Certainty about that fact made her knees grow weak as she listened to Ian make his vows.

His voice did not waver as he promised to honor, protect and cherish her. Gazing into his eyes, she almost missed the fact that he had arranged with the priest to leave out

the vow of love. Had she thought about it, she would have expected it. Ian would not vow what he could not deliver.

Her fear returned tenfold only now it centered on the knowledge that Ian had just circumvented his wedding promise to love her. It did no good to remind herself of her battle tactics.

Right now all she wanted to do was retreat.

As the priest asked her if she would love, honor and obey, she entertained thoughts of dashing from the church. Ian must have guessed the direction of her thoughts because he put a hand on her arm and squeezed, encouraging her to answer the priest.

“I…” Her voice came out like a croak.

Ian frowned at her.

Looking around wildly, she sought a means of escape from her fear. Her eyes caught those of Diana. Her friend smiled and winked. She mouthed the word, “Remember” and pointed unobtrusively to Robert, who now stood at her side. Annabelle sucked in air, telling herself that Diana was right. Ian took her hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. The fear left. She sighed. It was going to be all right. Diana had survived this ordeal, Annabelle would too.

Taking a deep breath she spoke clearly. “I do so promise.” And then not being able to help herself she added, “Although, I don’t believe I’ll be very good at obedience, but I will try.”

Why not? Ian had refused to vow to love her. At least she had promised to try. Surely she should not be expected to blindly obey her husband. She would of course obey him when he was right.

Annabelle ignored the sound of her brother choking behind her. Sneaking a peek at her groom, she was relieved to note that rather than glaring his face now wore an amused smile.

“I’ll help you, lass,” he promised, his voice low enough for only her and the priest to hear.

And I’ll help you learn to love me no matter what you promised, she mentally vowed.

Annabelle repeated the rest of her vows without hesitation. She spent the remainder of the service kneeling next to Ian, acutely aware of the fact that he was now her husband.

The priest gave the benediction.

Taking her arm, Ian led her from the church. His tiger stood ready with the carriage.

Lifting Annabelle by the waist, Ian set her inside. The coward in her rejoiced when she saw that her magnificent gown of white silk took up the entire seat around her. Her relief turned to irritation when Ian brushed the folds of fabric aside and took his place next to her.

“You will crush my gown.”

He shrugged and lifted her into his lap so that her skirts fell over both their legs. She gasped. “This is not what I meant.”

He laughed. “I ken.”

Raising her chin, she frowned at him. “You think my irritation is amusing, husband?”

His eyes turned serious. “Say that again.”

“You want me to repeat my question?”

“Nay, call me husband again. I like it.”

Annabelle could not hold her frown. His admission melted her insides. “Husband, do you find my annoyance amusing?”

“Aye.”

“Why?”

“You wanted to sit alone.”

She could not deny his charge. She shrugged.

“You are nervous.” He made the words sound like an insult.

“This may come as a complete surprise to you, Ian, but many brides are nervous on their wedding day.”

The laughter was back. “Aye, but do these same brides consider leaving the church in the middle of their wedding?”

“How did you know?”

“The way you kept looking behind you at the doors gave you away. I wasn’t sure

you were going to go through with it.”

“Neither was I.” The admission slipped out.

“What made you?”

“I realized that if other women could survive the ordeal, so could I,” she admitted.

Ian didn’t like her answer. “You think marriage to me an ordeal?”

“You needn’t shout. I said my vows.”

Her words did not appease him. His scowl grew fierce. “Aye, but I can’t help but think you wish you hadn’t.”

The words shocked her, but the uncertainty in his tone surprised her more. Ian might not love her, but he cared whether or not she wanted to be married to him.

“I do not wish any such thing. Do you think I am such a nick ninny that I would have said my marriage vows otherwise? Now, stop your glaring. It’s very rude to scowl at your wife on her wedding day.”

Ian’s face relaxed. “Is this an English dictate?” His teasing tone was like a gentle caress.

“No. It’s my dictate.”

He smiled into her eyes and moved his mouth closer to hers. “Kiss your husband, lass.”

“Is that a Scottish dictate?” she whispered. Annabelle’s lips were a mere breath from Ian’s as she spoke. She imagined that she could feel her breath caress his lips.

“Nay, ’tis my dictate,” he growled before lowering his mouth to hers.

They arrived at Lady Beauford’s townhouse moments later. Annabelle scrambled to get off of her husband’s lap before the coachman opened the door. He laughed at her attempts to straighten her appearance.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll not have everyone privy to you kissing me.”

“Dinna think they will be shocked, we are married.” His words did nothing to settle her mind. Among the ton, marriage was hardly license for affection. Annabelle had seen more tolerance shown for the fawning affection of a Cicebo than that of a husband.

As they entered the drawing room to join the wedding guests, Ian leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Wife, your cheeks have the hue of your aunt’s roses.” She felt warmth invade her insides at the word “wife”. No wonder Ian had made her repeat herself. It felt wonderful to know that from this day forward her life was intrinsically linked with his. She shared a relationship with her arrogant Scotsman that no one else ever would.

Tags: Lucy Monroe Romance
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