Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

OCTAVIAN SAW WHERE this situation was going and knew there was going to be trouble.

"Syd," he muttered as they now stood in front of the Gretna Green blacksmith shop surrounded by a dozen angry Armstrong men who were debating what to do with the two of them. They referred to her as the harpy with blazing green eyes after she punched hotheaded Angus in the nose when he strutted toward her and made the mistake of calling her a scrawny Sassenach.

"Scrawny, am I?" she had retorted and smashed her fist in his face.

Angus was now holding a handkerchief to his nose as blood poured from his nostrils.

Octavian had immediately drawn her behind him, fearing others were going to charge at them now. He had also drawn his pistol and now had it aimed straight at their laird's heart. "I do not wish to hurt anyone, but no one touches my wife and lives. Have your men stand down. Please."

The laird motioned for his men to remain where they were. "No one will draw a weapon on ye, Captain Thorne. Ye may put yers away."

Thank heaven for rational men, Octavian decided and placed his pistol back in the lip of his boot. As he did so, he heard Syd grumble something behind him. "Blessed saints, Syd. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and let me talk us out of this mess."

She pinched his arse. "As you did not half an hour ago while I was stuffed and suffocating inside the carriage bench? Was I supposed to smile meekly and allow that oaf Angus to call me a common…I cannot even say the awful word!"

"He merely called you a Sassenach, a disdainful term to describe any Englishman. What did you think that word meant?"

"It sounded crude. I will knock out his front teeth if he dares insult me again."

"Dear heaven, will you just let me handle this?" Octavian kept eyes on the enraged men surrounding them and spared only the merest glance at her when she attempted to come out from behind him. But it was enough to notice the soft waves of her hair as the sun slanted across it and turned the lush strands a stunning ginger-gold. "First of all, that big oaf happens to be the son of the laird and you have just humiliated him in front of his men."

"He insulted me!"

"And I would have defended you had you given me the chance, something I could have reasonably done with no punches thrown." He nudged her behind him once more when she tried to step forward again. "You've protected your honor, Syd. Now allow me to save both our lives."

What did she expect would happen when these men realized he had a woman traveling with him? But all would have been corrected after a few words of explanation and an invitation for all of them to serve as witnesses to their wedding.

A second man now dared approach Syd.

Octavian did not like the insolent look in his eyes or the fact he was disobeying his own laird's command. He grabbed the pistol out of that fool's belt and trained it at his head, something he was loathe to do since he wanted to calm the situation, not heighten the confrontation. "My apologies, Laird Armstrong," he said while keeping the pistol trained on this second man. "But we need to talk, and I cannot allow your men to harm the woman I love."

Gad!

Had he just said that?

How had the words flowed so easily from his lips?

The laird motioned for the rest of his men to stand back. "I'll kill the first one of ye who moves," he said in a growled warning. "Have ye grown so base as to not even respect yer own laird's orders?"

Jamie, bless him, also stood firm and repeated the Armstrong leader's warning. "The captain's an honorable man. Can ye blame him for wanting to protect the lovely lass? What would ye have done if strangers surrounded yer carriage and threatened yer wives and sisters? Ye would no' have been so polite or kept yer wits about ye, I'll wager."

The men grumbled but obeyed their laird and held back.

Octavian knew he had to speak fast, for he would not be able to hold them off very long.

These Scots were angry.

Octavian was either going to end up dead or married to Syd, and he wasn't sure which of those outcomes was worse. He quickly explained their situation and why he dared not delay in marrying Syd.

"Captain Thorne," Jamie whispered, "are ye really going to marry the fiery lass? And did ye mean it when ye said ye were going to try to get a job for me?"

"Yes, to both. You know I am a man of my word." He now turned to the laird and spoke to him with all the calm he could muster. "I would be honored if you and your men served as witnesses to our marriage."

"But not your arrogant whelp of a son," Syd blurted, tossing Angus another scowl. "He does not deserve to be present at this sacred rite."

Octavian groaned.

He wanted to throttle Syd. How bloody sacred could this ceremony be? They were only going to stand in a blacksmith shop, an anvil as a makeshift altar, as they took less than a minute to repeat their vows.

"The blacksmith shop is quite small," one of the Armstrong men remarked.

Octavian nodded. "We may not all be able to fit, that's true. How about Laird Armstrong and Jamie serve as our witnesses?"

Syd popped her head out from around him. "Yes, I would be honored to have you both by our side."

Thank The Graces.

Finally, words of compromise from her lips.

They might not die, after all.

Octavian held out a hand in friendship to the laird. "Will you grant us safe passage out of here once we are wed? I did not lie to you about anything, merely neglected to mention that my betrothed was with me. I apologize for that omission, but I did not know how else to protect her without needlessly shedding blood. Can you understand this?"

The laird said nothing, so Octavian continued talking. "I am on my way to Greenock on an Admiralty assignment, as I've told you. And I will purchase those sheep for you." He glanced at Jamie. "I will also use my best efforts to secure employment for you. You have my oath on it."

Jamie nodded. "That's good enough for me, Captain." He now turned to his laird. "He loves the lass. Let him get married."

"Verra well." The laird nodded and took his hand to shake it. "I'll witness yer wedding and grant ye safe passage. But I dinna think ye and the lass ought to pass through here again. Especially the lass. She's insulted my son and there's bad blood between them. Ye should have kept quiet and let yer betrothed handle it, lass."

"Well, I never," Syd mumbled.

Octavian nudged her behind him once again and, as a sign of his good faith, handed back the weapon he had taken from the second oaf who had dared approach Syd.

The laird cast him a wry smile. "Are ye sure about her, Captain Thorne? She's just as likely to smash a tankard of ale over yer head as to kiss ye."

"I am well aware," Octavian said with a chuckle. "She's already thrown me off a roof."

"Octavian!" Syd cried from behind him. "You know it was an accident! I would never purposely hurt you."

"I know, love." He intentionally used the endearment, although he was steaming mad at her right now. Blood was still spurting from Angus's nose and that lad was something worse than angry. He was humiliated, having been defeated by a slip of a girl in front of his friends and family. For this reason, Octavian wanted to get married, then tear out of here before Angus recovered and took his revenge on them.

"She tried to crack my head open," Angus griped, storming to his father's side. "We canno' let her just walk away."

"The lady was frightened and you offended her," Jamie retorted. "Take responsibility for yer actions, Angus. Ye brought this on yerself. Serves ye right. Ye preyed on her because ye thought she was a meek, English rose. Well, she proved ye wrong. I'm telling ye, Angus. Keep yer distance. Anyone can see she is far more trouble than she's worth."

The laird quirked a bushy eyebrow. "Why are ye bothering with her, Captain?"

Octavian took a deep breath. "I have no choice. I love her."

Had that really come out of him again?

The ‘love' word?

"The next man who insults me will join Angus with a bloody nose," Syd declared, obviously not willing to take any amount of jesting from these men. Octavian was not saying their behavior was right, but it was how men relieved a tense situation.

He shot her a warning glance.

By all that's holy, keep your mouth shut, Syd.

Of course, Syd could not shut that kissable mouth of hers. "And if any of you dare to harm my husband-to-be," she warned, staring directly at Angus, "rest assured that I will maim as many of you as I can manage before you kill me."

The laird regarded him incredulously. "And ye still want her as yer wife?"

"Yes." Octavian took hold of her hand and gave it a warning squeeze. "She is the only woman I will ever have, and I really need to marry her."

The men rolled their eyes, regarded him as though he were mad, and then suddenly began to nod in understanding.

What had he just said?

Oh, bloody hell.

That emphasis on really had them believing Syd was carrying his child.

Well, let them think whatever they wished.

He needed to marry her.

Once they exchanged vows, no one would care whether or not they'd had relations outside of marriage.

More important, they would not harm Syd if they believed she was with child.

Two other couples stood ahead of them, for no one had been frightened away by their scene in front of the shop. Eloping couples were desperate and nothing was going to stop them from getting married, not even a horde of angry Scots or a little harpy determined to take them all on.

Octavian took Syd's hand and kept hold of it as they entered the blacksmith's shop. They had yet to exchange vows when he heard the sound of hoofbeats and then shouts to stop the wedding. It could have been anyone else's father or jilted groom bellowing threats, but Octavian recognized Sir Henry's voice, and knew he and Syd had less than thirty seconds to exchange vows.

Octavian pushed them to the front of the queue, smacked double the fee on the table, and confronted the blacksmith. "Captain Octavian Thorne. Lady Sydney Harcourt. Do it now."

The man shrugged. "Do you, Captain Octavian Thorne, take Lady Sydney Harcourt as your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

He now turned to Syd. "Do you, Lady Sydney Harcourt, take Captain Octavian Thorne as your lawfully wedded husband?"

Syd stared up at him.

Sir Henry and her father were angrily pushing their way through the crowd of Armstrongs standing just outside. "Bloody hell, Syd. Do not falter now. You promised me."

"But look at what I am doing to you."

The laird frowned. "Think of the wee bairn."

"What wee bairn?" she asked just as her father and Sir Henry stormed in. Sir Henry had a pistol in hand and now trained it squarely on Octavian's chest.

Syd must have quickly calculated the odds and realized Sir Henry was more likely to shoot him if they were not married and could be prevented from taking that final step than if they were married and his efforts were too late. After all, Sir Henry had no incentive to shoot him once Syd was his wife and had the protection of the Thorne name. "I do!"

The blacksmith ever so calmly pronounced them husband and wife.

Syd threw her arms around Octavian, protecting his chest. "You big ox," she muttered, sounding desperately heartbroken. "What have I done to you?"

"Married me," he said, relief washing over him. "No one will ever hurt you now, Syd. You are mine to love and protect."

She looked up at him, her expression one of joy mingled with dismay. "Am I truly your wife?"

"Yes," the blacksmith said with a calm bordering on utter boredom. No doubt, this was an every day occurrence for him. Escaping bride and groom. Father on the chase, sometimes successful in stopping the wedding and sometimes not. "Follow my wife to sign the certificate. It is a mere formality for recording purposes. You are married whether you sign it or not."

The danger had not yet passed, Octavian knew. There was nothing to stop Sir Henry from shooting him out of sheer vengeance. But the old goat must have thought twice about taking on a Thorne since there was no profit in it for him. Syd was his wife and that immediately put her out of Sir Henry's reach even if he made her a widow.

Besides, his brothers would go after Sir Henry and not stop until they saw his businesses destroyed and him drawn, quartered, and then hanged.

Sir Henry lowered his weapon and emitted a string of curses. "This isn't over, Thorne."

"Yes, it is," Octavian intoned. "I'll be back in London in a month's time. Come see me about Lord Harcourt's debt. I will repay it."

"Excellent!" Harcourt cried, obviously pleased he was now to be saved.

Octavian was disgusted, for there was not a hint of remorse in his expression. He had put Syd through hell and had not even a soothing word for her as he called her over. "Come give your father a hug, Sydney. I knew it would all work out. Did I not tell you so?"

Octavian drew her back instead, for he would not allow her go near the loathsome man who had been willing to sell her into servitude to save his worthless hide. "You little weasel," he said, unable to hide his rage, "you put your daughter in danger for your own irresponsible pleasures. How could you do this to her?"

Her father held out his arms to her again. "It's all been a silly misunderstanding. Come to me, daughter."

Octavian refused to let her go. "No, she's mine now. I'll honor your debt to Sir Henry, but not a farthing more after this. Get out of my sight. You don't deserve this gem of a girl."

All eyes remained on Sir Henry and the Earl of Harcourt while they strode out of the place. Octavian would not release Syd when she tried to bid her father farewell. "Octavian, he's my father!"

"He put you through this ordeal. Have you forgiven him already, Syd?" He continued to hold her until the pair left Gretna Green.

Could she not see that it was for her own good?

He was fully prepared to take a punch in the nose from her if she remained truly angry with him. But after seeing the pain this man had put her through, how could she be so quick to forgive and forget?

"He never meant to hurt me," she said, sounding so wounded that it tugged at his heart. But he was not going to allow her to delude herself about her father's love. The man placed his indulgent wants and needs above regard for his own daughter, and Octavian was not going to allow Syd ever to be trod on like that again.

"Stop lying to yourself," Octavian growled back, wondering if she would ever be this loyal to him. Perhaps in time, she might. "The only person your father cares about is himself."

Octavian and the Armstrong clan watched Sir Henry and Syd's father ride out of town, none of them speaking until the pair disappeared from view.

All the bravado Syd had shown when confronted by the Armstrongs and then her father and Sir Henry now deserted her.

She broke down and emitted a sob.

"Oh, Syd. You are my wife now. You are safe, love." Octavian wrapped her firmly in his arms, for her entire body was shaking.

"I am not crying," she said when he withdrew his handkerchief to dry her tears.

Octavian did not believe her since tiny trails of water were sliding down her cheeks, but he was not about to make an issue of it. They were married and she was safely under his protection now.

Nothing else mattered.

He kept an arm around her shoulders as they walked to their carriage.

The Armstrongs followed them.

Mr. Henshaw was waiting beside the conveyance and must have taken in the entire spectacle. "I thought you were already married," he muttered with a shake of his head, obviously uncertain whether to approve or disapprove their sharing a room at the various inns along the way.

Octavian cast him a warning glance.

Syd was already overset and did not need more guilt piled on her.

"Well, there was no mistaking you were lovebirds. You did what you had to do, considering you got her in that delicate condition."

"What?" Syd's entire body went stiff. "I am not–"

"Syd, leave it alone," Octavian said, for everyone was listening in. "What does it matter? We are married now."

The Armstrong laird and his men surrounded them.

Bollocks.

What now?

The laird stepped forward. "M'lady, no one is condemning ye," he tried to assure Syd, who may have appeared tearful, but she was quietly seething and getting angrier by the moment. "He's a handsome lad and ye could not have resisted giving him yer body as well as yer heart."

Jamie now stepped forward. "But it all worked out in the end. The captain did the honorable thing."

"Let me be clear," Octavian said before Syd exploded and hurled another insult. Or worse, revealed that she was not with child, which would anger these Armstrongs into thinking he had deceived them again. "It was love at first sight for me. I knew I wanted to marry Lady Sydney from the moment we met. I did not have to marry her. I wanted to marry her. Never a doubt in my mind. I love her. I have always loved her. And I will always love her."

Syd stiffened and glanced up at him.

The laird nodded and then turned to Syd. "Yer father is a foolish man, lass. He should have consented to yer marriage to Captain Thorne and spared ye the difficulty of traveling all the way to Scotland. How far are ye along?"

Fortunately, the shock of his words and the laird's question kept Syd quiet for the moment.

"Too early to tell," Octavian hastily interjected. "What matters is that she is a lady and now my wife. You will treat her with respect."

The laird assured him they would do so. "But the father's actions still make no sense to me. Why would he choose that old goat over you?"

The curious Scots were not going to allow them to leave until their questions were answered, so Octavian obliged. "Lady Sydney's father got heavily into debt with Sir Henry. The only way he could repay it was to bend to Sir Henry's demand to give Syd over to him. Her father did not hesitate to sacrifice her in order to save his own hide. She is not yet of age and needed her father's consent to marry me. He was never going to give it while under threat to Sir Henry."

The laird nodded. "I see. But surely Sir Henry would have backed off once he knew she carried your child."

Oh, hell.

Syd curled her hands into fists. "What makes you think–"

"Right! What makes you think that old, vindictive beast would release her? He was obsessed with her. She's quite beautiful, as you all can see. What better way to make us suffer than to claim the child as his? Or harm it because it was not his?"

Kindhearted Jamie gasped. "That is pure evil. Surely, her father could not condone it."

Octavian nodded. "He should not have done any of what he did. But he was in fear for his own life, and willing to sacrifice his daughter rather than himself. Neither of them knew of her condition." He glanced at Syd who once again looked angry. "The worst is over, and I thank you for your assistance. You must excuse us now and let us be on our way. Defying her father has taken quite a bit out of my wife. She is overset and there is no telling what she might say or do."

Jamie cast her a sympathetic smile. "Ye are safe now, lass. Captain Thorne loves ye deeply. Do ye think he would have taken them on the chase if ye hadn't claimed his heart? And now ye and the bairn are safe."

Her eyes narrowed in frustration. "I am not–"

"Quite yourself just now," Octavian interrupted her again. "I'm sure you are confused and exhausted, but thrilled at the prospect of giving me a son." He lifted her into the carriage and firmly set her in it. "Shut up, Syd," he whispered.

She was bent on defending her honor while he was desperate to get them out of here without further trouble. "Good to see you again, Jamie. Laird Armstrong, an honor. Thank you for your hospitality."

Octavian did not release a breath until they were north of Gretna Green and he was certain they had not been followed.

Syd was glowering at him.

Octavian stifled a groan. "What?"

"They think I gave myself to you," she said, sounding more hurt than angry. He could manage her anger, but her shame devastated his heart. "Oh, I know you wanted to shut me up, and I understand your reasons why. But they did not question for a moment that you had bedded me. This is what I found galling."

Syd was fiery and independent in so many ways, and yet remarkably traditional when it came to love and marriage.

"Their willingness to believe me is what saved us," he said gently. "I'm sorry I encouraged their mistake. It curled my stomach to pile on those lies. In truth, I uttered more lies in this past hour than I have done in all my life. I never even lied as a child when I did something stupid. I always told my father the truth and took the punishment. But this was about protecting you. How else was I to keep you safe? They were not going to harm a woman with child, and that's all I cared about…that they would not harm you. Syd, I could not come up with a better idea on the spur of the moment. Could you?"

She let out a breath, but said nothing.

"You are my wife now. Even if you weren't, the Scots would not think any less of you for taking me into your bed. They have a hand-fasting tradition. Do you know what that is?"

She continued to look at him with pain in her eyes.

He sighed and continued. "The couple declare their intention to marry in front of witnesses and then go live together. If they are still together after a year, they are considered married. If the woman carries his child, they are considered married. It is nothing formal, just tradition. Nothing like our English ceremonial rites. They do not think less of you for giving yourself to me."

"But this is entirely the point! I did not give myself to you."

"You were willing last night," he dared to point out. "Why deny it? I was the one who insisted on waiting until we were married." He ran a hand through his hair, concerned he was digging himself into a deeper pit every time he opened his mouth. But they had to speak about this or else Syd's resentment would fester. "We've traveled together for over a week, slept in the same bed, and seen each other without a stitch of clothing on. We did all that, so do not make too much of the fact you are still a virgin. I assure you, no one cares whether we did the deed or not. You were thoroughly ruined the night you tossed me off the roof and I took you to my home. Our marriage will save you from any scandal. More important, our marriage has saved you from Sir Henry."

"Still, it hurts me, Octavian. Can you not see that?"

"Yes, I do. I see it more clearly than you think. But I am not turning back to explain to the Scots that you are not carrying my child. Nor am I sorry they misinterpreted my haste to marry you. Their misunderstanding saved us. Correcting them, and then explaining your father intended to sell you to Sir Henry, would not have been as effective."

"It might have been."

"Syd, you know that is not true. Many fathers believe their daughters are their possession to do with as they wish. Your father is not the only scoundrel who thinks this way. These Scots might have sided with him and felt he had the right to choose your husband, even as poor a choice as Sir Henry. They might have prevented our wedding ceremony. But to keep a man from making an honest woman of the lass who is carrying his child? His child. No man was going to stop the ceremony and interfere with my act of honor."

She stared down at her hands. "Still, it stings."

"I know." He spoke gently, for he understood how embarrassed she felt. Her father had not only gambled away his assets but stolen her funds as well as her inheritance from her grandmother and her dowry. He had probably pawned anything of value she had ever owned. This prideful girl had come into the marriage with nothing left but her maidenhood. To have that stripped away because the Armstrongs misunderstood his need for haste and thought he had bedded her was a final humiliation. "We'll have a proper wedding reception once we are back in London. How does that sound to you?"

She continued to stare down at her clasped hands. "I don't know."

"All right, fair enough. Just know that I am going to treat you with respect as my wife. I cannot repair what has already been done, but I can promise you that I will honor our marriage vows."

"Our make-believe marriage vows."

He raked a hand through his hair again. "Can you not bring that up for the rest of the day?"

She looked up now. "Why, Octavian?"

"I just don't want to talk about a sham marriage. All right?"

"If you insist." She gave a careless shrug. "You seem to have no trouble lying about my honor. So why get irate when pretending this marriage is something other than fake?"

"Because it does not have to be fake." He took her hands in his, surprised by how cold they were, for the weather was relatively mild. However, he knew the Scottish climate was not to blame. She was bereft and feeling cold inside, their hasty ceremony having left much to be desired. She'd spent more time this morning deciding on whether to drink tea or cocoa than in repeating wedding vows.

His morning piss had taken longer than the entire ceremony.

He rubbed her hands lightly to warm them. "Syd, we could make this work. We could turn this into something real and lasting. Will you give us the chance?"