Eloping with the Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword #3)(20)
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked when he reached her. He moved to grab her off the table, but she sidled out of his way.
“Since you declined my proposition, I am now trying to find myself a husband.” She gave him a tight smile. “These gentlemen,” she stumbled over the word, “are vying for my hand.”
He eyed the crowd. Several of the men winked up at her. One elbowed him hard in the gut, trying to shove him away from the table. “Yes, I’m certain they are. This is not how to go about getting a husband, Isabel. Get down from there.”
She shook her head. “You do not wish to assist me, and that is perfectly all right. I shall do this on my terms.”
“You hear that, she don’t want you,” one particularly large man yelled at Jason. Then he reached his beefy hand up to Isabel. “I’ll make you a good husband, my lady.”
“I’ll bring home fresh flowers every day,” another yelled.
This was insane, pure madness. The stench of ale burned Jason’s eyes.
“I’ve got a handful of kids to keep you company,” another man boasted. And the other men erupted in laughter.
This was ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly be serious. “Isabel, we will find another solution.”
She looked down at him. “There are no other options.”
For a moment, Jason simply stared at her. Standing on the table, she was glorious. Beautiful and fierce and determined. What if she was also right? What if the best way for him to protect the queen right now was to assist Isabel in marrying immediately?
He could allow her to wed one of the curs in this tavern. Many of the men in here were likely hardworking, but could they truly provide for her? They certainly wouldn’t be able to protect her, especially since they wouldn’t be privy to the information that would keep Isabel safe. She’d never find a man in here who would know true worth. That was unacceptable. Certainly, even he, the bastard son of a stable master, was a better option than the men in here.
Without thinking, Jason stood upon one of the chairs. “Isabel, please consider that the men who are after you will not quit so easily. Whomever you marry will be in danger.” He pulled her to him. “I shall marry you. We’ll head to Scotland in the morning.”
She eyed him warily. “I hadn’t considered that by marrying me, I would put someone in danger. I cannot allow you to put yourself in harm’s way.”
“I am the perfect candidate since I am properly trained for such things. I can protect myself.” He shrugged and ignored the men who continued to yell. “Besides, your logic makes a certain amount of sense. Even if your marriage wouldn’t deter the traitors forever, it will most assuredly buy us some much-needed time,” he said. Then he motioned to the men who were shouting disapprovingly. “Unless, of course you’d prefer one of them.”
Her exotic green eyes met his, and for the briefest of seconds, it felt as if they were the only two in the room. “I’d much rather prefer you.”
She wrapped her arms around him, and he lifted her from the table and out of the common room. The other men continued to yell, but Jason ignored them.
Damnation. What had he just promised to do?
…
After a restless night in which Isabel got very little sleep, she and Jason climbed back into the carriage and headed north to Scotland. She had lain in the bed and listened to Jason breathing, knowing that soon they’d be husband and wife. Nerves had eaten at her all evening. They were traveling directly to Gretna Green, the first village over the Scottish border and the most popular place for couples to elope.
She was putting him in danger simply by him marrying her and protecting her. Yes, he was trained. Still, she was unsure if she should allow him to fall on this particular sword, just for her. Perhaps she should instead persuade him to pay her passage on a ship and sail somewhere that no one would ever find her.
Now, several hours later, fatigue nearly overwhelmed Isabel. She had a mind to tell Jason to simply forget the entire ordeal. But this impromptu wedding wasn’t about her, it was about protecting the Crown of England. She could endure being uncomfortable for a while longer. They’d been riding so long, she ached everywhere. What she wanted more than anything was a nice warm bath and then a soft bed to sink into, but this was to be her wedding night. Certainly, she’d need to be alert for that. She knew a little about what to expect, but only from books and overhearing discussions between school employees a time or two. If only she had talked about this sort of thing with Lilith, but Isabel hadn’t thought marriage was on the horizon for her. Yet here she was, a bride-to-be.
“I believe we are here,” Jason said.
“Where is here, precisely?” she asked once they’d stepped down from the rig. A long, white clay building sat in front of them. A black sign boasted hand-painted white letters.
“The village blacksmith,” Jason said.
Her heart thundered. Yes, she’d heard about this. Heard about couples running from parents who hadn’t given a marriage blessing. Couples passionately in love who couldn’t wait another moment to be married. Many of the stories were so romantic, she’d nearly forgotten they were true and not fictionalized tales. The Gretna Green village blacksmith was synonymous with desperate marriages—desperately in love or desperately compromised.
It was hard to imagine that her seemingly insignificant life could prove so vital to the Crown. She felt the weight of responsibility settle around her, a heavy cloak of duty. The honor of it all brought tears to her eyes.