Page 98 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

“Hells bells, ye are frozen, lass,” Ned cursed, rubbing her arms with vigour.

“I’m-m p-perfectly w-well,” she managed, which might have been more convincing if her teeth hadn’t been chattering quite so violently.

“Ah, lass,” he said, and hauled her into his arms and kissed her.

Grace submitted, although they were in plain sight of the church, melting into him and feeling the warmth of his mouth upon her frozen lips with a sigh of pleasure. He drew back, and she smiled up at him a little hazily.

“That’s warming me up nicely. Could you just do that again and I’ll be quite—”

He did, not waiting for her to finish the sentence but kissing her again, hard and deep. She let out a deep breath, giddy and fuzzy-headed as he released her once more. Goodness, but her husband could kiss. It was impossible to think when his lips touched hers. Thinking was overrated in any case, she decided as she gazed up at him, smiling like a happy drunk, intoxicated with him.

“Come along,” he said, taking her hand as they hurried up the snowy path towards the church.

Ned paused outside the great oak doors, his hand gripping hers so tightly it was almost painful.

“Grace,” he said, his voice low and serious. “There’ll be no changing your mind after we speak the words. Ye will be my wife and… and I’ll not give ye up then, not for anything. I… thought I’d best warn ye.”

“I should think not,” she said, her voice tart and tugged at his hand, dragging him inside.

She could not help but smile a little as he faced the vicar of his parish and haltingly explained that they wanted to be wed at once, that moment, and that he had a common licence ready. The vicar plainly thought Ned had been up to no good, and no doubt believed Grace was in an interesting condition. He was barely civil, and Ned looked a good deal like a scolded boy until the vicar turned his frosty gaze upon Grace.

“Miss…?” he asked with obvious distaste as he verified the details on the licence.

“Miss Grace Honeyfield,” Ned said before she could open her mouth. He sounded terse now, his dark eyes glinting. “We’re marrying in haste because her brother is a cruel man who has treated her ill, and because he’ll be furious when he discovers she means to marry me when she could have had a wealthy gentleman. The lady has done nothing to deserve anything less than your respect and kindness on her wedding day, unless choosing to marry beneath her is a crime against God?”

The vicar, who was a sparse man with a thinning patch of grey hair that stuck out like the feathers on a baby bird, regarded them both for a moment.

“Miss Honeyfield,” he said, his tone a deal gentler. “If you would be so good as to confirm your date and place of birth?”

She felt rather than heard Ned sigh, and squeezed his hand before answering the vicar’s questions.

A mere ten minutes later and it was done.

Ned walked out of the church holding his wife’s hand and feeling dazed at how easy it had been. He paused in the same spot he’d given Grace her last chance to change her mind, looking down at her with wonder.

“No regrets?” he asked hoarsely.

By way of answer, Grace grasped the lapels of his coat and lifted herself up onto her toes. Obligingly, he bent his head and received the kiss she offered.

“Not one,” she whispered against his lips.

Ned smiled.

When they were back beside the cart, he picked her up and set her down on the seat with care and then fussed about, covering her with the only dry blanket remaining. Grace snuggled into him as he took his place beside her.

“Well then, Mrs Hardy,” he said, quite unable to keep the stupid grin from his face.

“Well then, husband,” she replied, her blue eyes twinkling.

Ned took the reins up and forced himself to keep his gaze upon the road and not stare endlessly at his lovely wife.

Grace frowned as Ned guided the horse on, and out of the village.

“We came from that way,” she said, turning her head to look behind them.

“Aye,” Ned replied, nodding.

“Then why are we going in the opposite direction?”