THE DOCUMENTS WERE READY, and the witnesses’ marks were made, so the guards could go out and prepare the carriage. Pitney indicated it was Ruark’s turn, and Shanna held her breath, for she had forgotten to ask whether he could sign his name. Her concern was wasted. His hand was quick and sure. Then the minister held the quill for the bride. Shanna put her name to the record first and then on a multitude of statements for the shire, county, and the crown. Then came a copy of the vows such as were stated. As she set the quill to the parchment, her eye caught a phrase, “That for thy husband, thou shalt love, honor, and obey.” Hushing her screaming conscience, Shanna put her name to the document, and, as she swept the quill in a final elaborate scroll, a bolt of lightning turned the inside of the church ghostly white. Before it dimmed, a growing roll of thunder flared rapidly and ended in an ear-splitting crack. The panes at the windows rattled, and the tiles of the roof seemed to dance. With wide fear-filled eyes Shanna stared at the parchment she had signed, aware of the lie she had put her name to. She rose, throwing the quill aside as if it burned her fingers. The storm was all around her now. Rattling gusts of rain struck the church, and the wind howled like a banshee in the gathering gloom of the dying day.
Seeing her disquiet, the Reverend Jacobs drew her aside.
“You seem worried and upset, child. Perhaps ‘tis well to have doubts, but I must tell you this. As events have progressed today, I have become convinced that what has been set in motion here today is truly blessed and shall bear a long and enduring witness to the will of God. My prayers shall go with you, my child. Your husband seems a fine young man and will no doubt comport himself well.”
His words gave Shanna little ease. Emotions raged through her so turbulently she feared he would see them in her face. But he moved away, heedless of her distress, and began collecting the documents which he had sealed and stamped and were now dry. He folded them in a neat packet, tied it with a ribbon of scarlet, and handed it to Ruark.
“Before you go, my dears,” Mrs. Jacobs beamed. She held out a tray bearing dainty stemmed glasses filled with an amber liquid. “A bit of sherry to warm your way.”
Numbly Shanna accepted the woman’s offering and raised the glass unsteadily to her lips. She paused as Ruark faced her, lifting his own glass in salute.
“To our marriage, my love. May it be long and fruitful.”
Shanna stared at him dispassionately over the rim of her glass. Her longing to sneer was almost overwhelming. It was his smug, conceited, self-satisfied expression she hated most, she thought venomously. How she yearned to set him in his place!
Nearby Mrs. Jacobs talked happily to Pitney, chattering about the ceremony as if her husband had performed none finer, while Pitney stood mute, glancing over the small woman’s head at the young couple. The set of his mistress’s jaw was a good indication of her agitation, and he could only wonder at what next would follow.
Ruark stretched forth a finger and gently urged the glass to his wife’s lips as his gaze warmly probed hers. “Drink, my love. We should be going.”
After they had drunk the cordial and put aside the glasses, Mrs. Jacobs hastened away to get their cloaks. Ruark took the fur-lined garment and wrapped it about Shanna, flinging his own carelessly about his wide shoulders. He led her to the door as Pitney preceded them. Final farewells were said and the best wishes of the minister spoken. Mighty gusts of wind struck them, billowing their cloaks as the ponderous portal was swung open. Fat droplets of water rushed in to pelt them. Pitney ran ahead to open the carriage door and lower the folding step while Ruark waited with Shanna in the shelter of the portal. The two guards were already perched atop in the driver’s seat, hunched in the folds of their cloaks against the pounding rain. Pitney motioned for the newlyweds to come, but as they stepped into the open, a blast of wind, heavy with cold rain, struck them in the face. Shanna gasped breathlessly and whirled away, finding herself fighting for breath against Ruark’s chest. He caught her to him, half covering her with his cloak. Then reaching down, he swept her up into strong arms and dashed headlong to the Briska. Handing her into the snug interior, he immediately followed, taking a place beside her. Quickly Pitney folded the step and swung inside, throwing himself into the seat across from them.
“There’s an inn down the road a piece in the village,” he rasped, “where we can take our sup.”
Ruark’s attention to the man perked. “Our sup?”
“Aye,” Pitney nodded, and in the meager light of dark twilight his gray eyes met Ruark’s. “Unless ‘tis yer thought to return to the gaol without a full meal to tide ye ’til the morrow.”