Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

OCTAVIAN DID NOT recognize any of these men who were standing around Syd and scowling at her. Syd was scowling just as fiercely back at them. Had he thought her clever? Sometimes, the girl did not have a lick of sense and would get them both killed if she opened her mouth again. "There you are, love," he said, striding into the fray and placing a protective arm around her. "Our table is ready."

He tried to walk her out of the circle, but several men barred his way. "Is she yers?" one of them asked.

He nodded. "Yes, unfortunately. I would love for you to take her off my hands, but I made a vow to protect her when we married and I aim to keep it. Captain Octavian Thorne, at your service."

"A Sassenach ," another man said and spat on the ground in a purposeful attempt to insult him.

"I will not deny it," he replied, unwilling to take the bait. "Nor am I looking for trouble. I merely want to escort my wife to the inn for our supper."

The man who appeared to be their leader peered at Syd for what felt like a very long while. "And ye say he is yer husband?"

"That big ox?" She turned her scowl on Octavian. " Unfortunately? You said unfortunately , I was your wife?"

"Syd! This is no time for games. And can you blame me? I leave you alone for two minutes and you've gotten yourself into a fight." Octavian had spent years in the Royal Navy in command of one of the finest fleet ships battling pirates, foreign privateers, and enemy frigates throughout the world. He was not used to losing battles, and he was not about to lose this one, either. He did not want to hurt any of these men, but he would if they dared set a hand on her.

But Syd was on the warpath and not about to back down. "What is it with you arrogant Scots? Do you think women really want to be ogled and pawed by drunken strangers? And you dare to draw a knife on me for interfering with your debauched advances? I'll have you know, my husband is the finest warrior ever in existence and he'll take all of you on if you do not apologize to me immediately. Would you ever allow anyone to behave in this abominable fashion with your wives, sisters, or daughters? Or treat your mother in this fashion? Of course not! So who will be the first one of you man enough to apologize to me?"

"Bloody, little fool," Octavian muttered, staring down at her when she edged back to his side, "do you wish to see blood shed? Specifically mine?"

Fortunately, no one heard her answer as a mail coach thundered up to their inn, which happened to be a popular coaching inn, and rolled to a stop beside them at just that moment.

Syd eyed it, no doubt hoping to escape onto it before it took off again.

Octavian wanted to slap manacles on her, one on her wrist and the other on his because this brash bluestocking wife of his was not going anywhere but back to London with him.

He still did not know what had happened to cause this confrontation or who these men were. Obviously, they were not from the Armstrong clan.

He could do with a few Armstrong men to back him up right now.

Syd seemed determined to have him die in a blaze of glory because she was still berating these louts who looked as confused as he had ever seen any men look.

Well, Syd had a knack for evoking this response from every male she came across.

Why was he bothering with her?

How had he fallen so deeply in love with her?

And why was he stifling a rumble of laughter as she drew another breath and continued to excoriate these stunned Scots.

But there was never a doubt in his mind that he needed to be with Syd forever, even if forever was another few minutes before they were both carved to little pieces by these dirk-wielding men. He still did not question his sanity or the rightness of his decision to marry her.

He would marry her a thousand times over, even if it meant racing north to Gretna Green each time.

The brash bluestocking got under his skin.

He hadn't had a decent night's sleep since meeting her.

She was his wife. His wife. And he had yet to properly bed her.

He did not want to die without staking that claim on her.

"Does the lass never shut up?" the one who appeared to be their leader asked him.

Octavian shrugged. "Not when she is this angry. What did you do to rile her?"

"We did no' touch her," another in their group retorted.

But Octavian knew they had done something sinful.

The fun was over.

It was time for him to defend Syd's honor.

He simply was not sure how to manage it and stay alive. Twelve to one odds did not look promising. "Syd, is this true? Did any of them touch you in an inappropriate way?"

She glowered at a big, redheaded lad who was holding his hands protectively over his male parts. "That oaf tried, but I set him straight."

Gad, she must have kicked him in the bollocks and doubled him over. That man was not going to be standing straight any time soon.

But why quibble?

She turned to another man who had a bleeding lip. "He tried, too. Shameful! Where is your mother? I am going to tell her what you did."

"Me ma's dead," the man retorted.

Syd's expression turned sympathetic. "Oh, I am truly sorry." She then walked over and kicked him in the shin. "All the more shameful of you! She must be weeping for your soul in heaven."

Octavian turned upon hearing a burst of laughter from behind him, and recognized Laird Armstrong's son, Angus, and his loutish friends as they now approached the other Scots. "What's the problem, MacGregor?"

"This Sassenach witch insulted my men."

Angus inspected the two injured men. "Looks like she did more than insult them. What did they attempt to do to her?"

"They did not set a hand on her," MacGregor replied.

Syd gasped. "But they tried! Do not pass them off as innocent. They ought to be praising the saints that I fended them off because my husband would be tearing them limb from limb right now if they had succeeded in setting a finger on me." She cast the Armstrong lad a look of reproof and curled her hands into fists. "Are you going to defend them?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "No, I'm here to defend you."

Her eyes widened. "You are?"

She glanced at Octavian, obviously surprised and seeking his assurance before returning her attention to the laird's son. "Truly, Angus?"

He nodded. "Yes, ye little troublemaker. Ye may be a Sassenach witch, but ye're our Sassenach witch, and my father will no' let anyone harm ye in our territory."

The MacGregor laird scoffed. "Ye're well outside of yer territory here in Melrose."

"It is close enough, and I say ye are not to harm her or her husband. Ye ought to be grateful I've stopped ye before ye attacked him. That man is Captain Octavian Thorne, brother of the Duke of Huntsford."

" That Captain Thorne of the Royal Navy?" asked the man with the bleeding lip. "My brother sailed under yer command. Ye should have told us who ye were."

"I did." Obviously, the man had been too busy nursing his cuts and bruises to pay attention when he introduced himself.

"Is this really yer wife, Captain Thorne?"

Syd gasped again. "Of course, I am! Did you think I made it up? Or that my husband would go along with the ruse if he wasn't really my husband? Of all the inconceivable gall!"

Laird Armstrong's son burst out laughing again. "Ye know, Thorne, it is not difficult to divorce her. Are ye certain ye wish to stay married to the little harpy?"

Octavian grinned, realizing the situation was no longer dire. The arrival of the Armstrong men, and the fact that a MacGregor's brother had served under him, had cooled their bloodlust. Still, he wanted to get Syd back inside the inn as soon as possible. He also meant to let them all know this was a love match and he would kill any man who harmed his wife. "I'm certain. I would marry her a thousand times over."

The MacGregor lord eyed him dubiously. "Well then, I'm thinking ye need to marry the lass once more. Here and now. Any objections?"

Syd was getting angry again. "Are you doubting my word? Or my husband's? Are you calling us liars? Are you calling the Armstrongs liars? Their laird witnessed our ceremony. Just ask any of these men and they will answer truthfully," she said, pointing to the laird's son and his friends.

"Well, lass," the laird's son said with a rather smug look on his face. "I saw ye and Captain Thorne in Gretna Green. I saw ye enter the blacksmith's shop. But I did not actually see the ceremony."

"What ceremony?" Syd said in a huff. "It was nothing more than an exchange of names and a paper to sign. Your father was a witness. You know he was. Why are you being so difficult? If you wished for revenge, well now you've had it. If you are not going to tell the MacGregors the truth, then just go away."

Octavian groaned, for Syd had reached her breaking point and was going to get them back in serious trouble if she did not walk away now. But now the MacGregors and the Armstrongs blocked their way when he attempted to escort her back inside the inn.

He really did not want to start throwing punches, for the odds were now even more against him. Since these Scots would not allow them to leave, Octavian saw no other alternative to mitigate the situation. "Syd, will you marry me again?"

"What?"

He took both of her hands in his. "MacGregor did not have a bad idea. Our ceremony was nothing you had ever dreamed of or deserve. So, marry me again."

"A second ceremony? But that will not change anything."

"I've told you before, I would marry you a thousand times over. I mean to prove it."

She sank against his chest and burst into tears.

That sobered all the men fast.

Apparently, he was not the only one left helpless by a woman's tears.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Oh, Syd. I'm sorry I left you even for a moment."

"It wasn't your fault. But I didn't know what else to do when I saw them grabbing that young girl and she cried out for help, but no one else stopped to help her. I could not just leave her to their mercy."

"Hush, love." When he turned again, he realized the crowd had doubled. There were now a dozen women gathered around them. "She's the one who saved me," an equally tearful, young woman said, pointing to Syd. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come back to ye, but the oafs drinking at the inn would no' listen to me or lift a finger to come to yer rescue when I turned to them for help."

"Shameful," an older woman beside her said.

"And then I tried to find my grandmother." She motioned to the woman beside her. "Did they harm ye, missus? We'll see them hanged if they did."

None of the men were laughing now.

An older gentleman pushed his way through the crowd. Octavian realized this was the MacGregor laird. The MacGregor, for there was no denying his commanding air of authority. He turned in anger toward the two men Syd had managed to injure. "What is going on here? Was this more than having a little sport with a Sassenach lass? Did ye assault the Campbell girl?"

The two men cast their eyes down.

MacGregor began to pace in front of his men. "Of all the stupid, reckless, idiotic…I have no' the words to sufficiently describe how disappointing and reprehensible yer behavior…dear heaven, a Campbell lass? Have I raised two idiot sons? A plague on both of ye!" He looked up at the sky. "Take me now! Strike me down with a lightning bolt so I need no longer endure this shame!"

Of course, the skies were clear and no bolt was going to come down out of the blue and roast him. After a moment, the MacGregor laird sighed in dismay and turned to the elegant woman who had to be the Campbell girl's grandmother. In truth, she appeared to be the respected matriarch of the entire Campbell clan. "I shall make this right, Lady Campbell. What will ye ask of us?"

The matriarch came over to Syd and lovingly stroked her hair. "Tell me what happened to ye after ye saved my granddaughter."

Syd wiped her tears and turned to the woman. "I hit them, and was berating them when the other MacGregors arrived. Then a moment later my husband arrived to save me. Then the Armstrongs arrived to save him because they saw he was outnumbered."

"So, these MacGregor lads did not manage to lay a hand on you?"

"No, ma'am, but it wasn't from want of trying."

The old woman sighed, and then turned to the MacGregor laird. "Yer sons are fortunate the girl was able to fight back. But for this egregious misdeed, I'll take ten of yer merino sheep."

Syd's eyes widened. "You have–"

Octavian tightened his arms around her. "Hush, Syd. Let's see how this plays out."

He felt her excitement as he held her against his chest, the quickening beat of her heart because of those blasted sheep. Never mind that two oafs attempted to accost her and might have hurt her when she ran to the rescue of the Campbell girl.

MacGregor let out a howl. "Och, no! Not my blessed sheep! Ask anything else of me. Ye have enough of yer own merino sheep. Ye dinna need mine."

"Will ye already go back on yer word?" the old woman remarked. "I see now where yer sons learned their reprehensible–"

"Och, dinna start on me. Ye'll get them, Lady Campbell. Ye know I am a man of my word." The concession obviously pained MacGregor. It was obvious to Octavian that the laird would have preferred to give up a limb rather than those precious animals. It seemed the crusty, old farmer in Greenock was not the only Scot who had stolen them out of Spain.

Come to think of it, he was a Campbell, too.

Obviously, the MacGregors and the Campbells had sailed to Spain and stolen those sheep. Whether they had done so together or each clan on their own, Octavian had no idea.

Laird Armstrong's son now stepped forward to address Lady Campbell. "I'll buy those sheep from ye."

She arched a silver eyebrow. "And why would I ever sell them to ye, Angus?"

"Because they are not for me or those in the Armstrong clan. They are for Mrs. Thorne."

Syd gasped. "For me?"

He nodded. "Aye, by way of apology for my behavior toward you. Despite my rudeness, ye still found it in yer heart to help us. Ye could have demanded yer husband not help us, but ye went out of yer way to support our clan. Yer husband told my father of yer attempts to acquire those merino sheep for us."

"But I didn't succeed," she said with notable disappointment.

"Ye tried with all yer heart."

She nodded. "I did, and you know how persistent I can be."

The laird's son laughed. "Och, aye. Painfully aware."

Lady Campbell cleared her throat. "I will not give ye the sheep, Angus. However, I will give them to Mrs. Thorne as reward for protecting my granddaughter." She turned to Syd. "They are yers to do with as ye wish."

Octavian could not suppress his smile.

Syd had gotten her merino sheep.

Of course, she had.

Was there ever a doubt that she would somehow work this miracle? Which now meant the Armstrongs would get their woolen industry underway because she was going to turn them over to Laird Armstrong.

Which she did when the laird arrived a few moments later and was told all that had transpired. "Ye mean my son was not the instigator?"

"Father! How can ye think that of me? No, I saw Mrs. Thorne and her husband were in trouble and rushed over to help them."

"Is that true?" he asked Syd instead of Octavian, but Octavian was not insulted. He knew the man wanted an honest answer, not a tactful one which he would have given.

"Yes, it is true," Syd said, then turned to his son. "Although you could have assured the MacGregors that Captain Thorne and I were married. Even if it was a nothing of a ceremony, it was still legal under Scottish law."

The laird's son raked a hand through his mass of unruly curls. "Aye, Mrs. Thorne. Ye are right. Perhaps I did make light of yer wedding. But ye must admit, it is an amusing thing to watch ye English in a mad race over the Scottish border to marry in haste."

"It is not what I would have chosen," she answered softly, her pain evident to Octavian because he understood how traditional Syd was in such things. "But I could not allow my father to give me away to anyone else."

"Och, I dinna blame ye. He's proven to be a fine man," the laird's son admitted. "And ye've proven to be a fine lass. I apologize for callin' ye an Armstrong witch. In truth, ye've proved to be our angel."

His father beamed with pride. "That's the truth, son."

Octavian nodded in agreement. Perhaps there was hope for Angus to become a good laird when his father passed on. Of course, it was too soon to tell. That he recognized his fault was promising, but a hot temper was not an easy thing to overcome and would require more work on his part.

But this was a matter for the Armstrong clan to sort out.

There was one thing Octavian needed to do before they left the town of Melrose.

As the Armstrongs, MacGregors, and Campbells were about to leave, Octavian asked them all to remain a moment longer. He bent on one knee in front of Syd. "Will you marry me again? Properly, this time. With words of love exchanged in front of an alter instead of an anvil?"

"Are you serious?" She sank onto her knees in front of him and searched his expression.

"Lass, he's awaiting yer answer," Lady Campbell called out.

Syd began to nibble her lip.

Octavian groaned. "Syd, please. Do not give me a hard time about this."

"Two weddings?"

He nodded.

She leaned close, pretending to hug him and whispered, "Does this mean we must divorce twice?"

"No, only one divorce…but it will never happen," he growled back softly.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him brazenly on the lips. "Of course, I will marry you. In the sight of all these people, I will declare how much I–"

A cheer arose among the crowd.

Everyone thought she had finished the thought and declared how much she loved him. In truth, she had stopped herself before uttering the word ‘love'. Octavian swallowed that kernel of disappointment. In truth, it did not matter. He knew she loved him. She did not have to declare it because it was evident in so many important ways.

Still, it would have been nice to hear it from her lips.

The fair would go on for one more day.

Fair goers would start leaving by midday tomorrow as the hawkers, musicians, and farmers began to break down their tents and animal pens.

Octavian invited everyone to join them in front of Melrose Abbey at ten o'clock the following morning.

For this, he had brought Syd all the way to Scotland.

He'd loved her from the moment he'd set eyes on her and vowed to himself to protect her always. She was his and there would be no undoing of either the first ceremony taking less than a minute in the blacksmith shop, or this one in full sight of three of the major lowlands clans.

The usually sleepy town of Melrose was known for little other than its once magnificent Melrose Abbey that now lay in ruins. Well, the area was beautiful, and he and Syd might have enjoyed riding over its hills and dales and across its glistening streams if they weren't in such a rush for time.

A light breeze swept across the hills and nearby meadows.

The sun shone brightly down on them once again as they stood before the ruins of the abbey on the following day.

The Armstrong laird himself officiated the ceremony.

Octavian had no idea whether or not he had actual authority, but it did not matter. He was already lawfully married to Syd. Even if he were not, this ceremony would have been considered a hand-fasting, which was as good as a marriage ceremony under Scottish law.

The laird recited several prayers, a Scottish poem, then gave a sermon on the importance of faithfulness and trust. At last, he brought the ceremony to an end with some all-important final words. "Captain Thorne, in the eyes of God and all these good people, do ye take Lady Sydney Harcourt to be yer lawful wife?"

"I do."

"Will ye honor her and protect her for all the days of yer life?"

"I will."

He then turned to Syd who looked like an angel in her gown of rose merino wool, a gown she had donned with pride this morning, especially now that she was the proud owner of ten merino sheep. Those would officially be turned over to Laird Armstrong after this ceremony.

Syd had let her hair down, the lovely, tumbling mane gleaming a rich, golden-red as the sun illuminated every silken strand. Her hair was adorned with nothing more than a circlet of flowers. "Lady Sydney Harcourt do ye take Captain Octavian Thorne as yer lawful wedded husband?"

Her eyes sparkled as she studied him, looking him up and down, and obviously deciding he looked splendid in his navy dress uniform. He did not usually wear his medals, but always carried them with him, and had pinned them onto his jacket in honor of his wedding. "I do," Syd said, her smile achingly beautiful.

"Will ye honor him and…och, lass, we all know how contrary ye can be. Will ye promise to obey him sometimes?"

The crowd laughed.

"Yes," she said with another beaming smile. "For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. I shall always honor him and be faithful to him, for he shall always have my heart even if he does not always have my agreement."

The crowd laughed again.

"I now pronounce ye husband and wife!" the laird declared mirthfully. "Ye may kiss yer bride, Captain Thorne. But be quick about it. We're all thirsty and in sore need of a drink."

Octavian kissed Syd with every ounce of love he had in his heart for her.

She kissed him back with equal fervor.

Octavian then bought several rounds of drinks for everyone when they headed to the inn's common room. As the noon hour approached, he ordered meals for everyone to sober them up. The last thing any of them needed was a repeat of yesterday's friction.

But he need not have worried. Their wedding put everyone in good humor on this last day of the fair.

There was dancing.

Armstrongs, Campbells, and MacGregors all put on displays of sword dancing that fascinated Syd. The Campbell granddaughter gave her a lesson in Scottish dancing. Syd took to it with the fervor of a bee taking to honey and was soon leaping and twirling along with the other Scottish women as though she had been born to it.

There were Scottish games that Octavian was goaded to participate in, such as a log toss, shot put, and an arm wrestle that he won. He doubted even he had the strength to defeat the Scottish champion, but Syd was hopping up and down and cheering him on in the sincerely heartwarming belief he was winning fair and square.

Of course, he wasn't.

The Scottish champion had been given the word to allow this bridegroom to win.

His shirt was off and sweat was gleaming on his skin by the time the games ended.

Syd did not care.

She hurled herself into his arms and rained kisses all over his face.

"Are you happy, love?" he asked her, for there was no denying it was a very good day for them.

"Yes," she said with heartfelt sincerity. "I got my sheep. I got my proper wedding. Most of all, I got you."

He wrapped his arms around her. "That last one was easy. You've always had me."

She hugged him fiercely. "I hope so."

He muffled his disappointment.

After all this, why was Syd still scared?