Page 5 of The Lyon and the Lass

He brought his lips to her pink plump ones and the taste of their sweetness turned his thoughts to how soon they could summon the vicar.

Chapter Three

Christine felt herlegs melt and she gripped Laird Lindsay’s upper arms—very muscular upper arms—to keep from sinking to the floor. She had received a few kisses during her Seasons, stolen in a dark part of a corner during a ball, but comparing those to the laird’s kisses was like comparing a sack of pebbles to a sack of gold pieces.

Her heart thundered and when he pulled back, staring into her eyes, she had a difficult time getting enough air to keep from swooning.

She did not swoon.

He grinned at her, no doubt noticing her addled appearance. She stepped back and patted the sides of her hair, which—due to having put it up herself was falling in clumps around her shoulders. “Well, then. I guess we can let Mrs. Dove-Lyon know that we wish to proceed.” There, that sounded very composed and adult.

While no longer grinning, his eyes were full of mirth. She didn’t want to believe that there was someone listening at the door, but as soon as Christine uttered those words, the door opened and the man who had escorted her up to see Mrs. Dove-Lyon walked in, followed by another who she assumed was thevicar. At least helookedlike a vicar. It did give her pause to wonder how someone with Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s reputation, along with the club itself, would have a vicar on call. Unless she arranged so many marriages that it was necessary. Or maybe, even vicars had vices.

Mrs. Dove-Lyon appeared from the door at the back wall, carrying a piece of paper, along with a small, lovely bouquet of sweet-smelling flowers. It appeared the laird was either surprised or impressed—so it seemed—as well as she was.

Their hostess handed Christine the flowers and moved her, so she was positioned in front of the vicar. After handing the marriage license to the vicar, the male escort moved the laird into the proper space beside Christine and the vicar opened his book.

Growing up, Christine never really thought too much about her wedding day, only that she would most likely have one. No matter how hard she would have tried, she would never have imagined this one, set in an opulent yet dark room, with furniture moved to make way for them, in a notorious gambling den in the heart of London, or with a black-dressed and veiled gambling den owner for an attendant.

Still, it was a far better wedding setting than the one she’d have endured at the hands of her uncle, so she could only feel thankful, and especially, relieved.

The vicar droned on for a few minutes about the sanctity of marriage and their respective duties as husband and wife. Her brain was muddled, but when it came to these words, she flicked her eyes to Laird Lindsay as he said his vows:

With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Laird Lindsay slid a heavy, jewel-encrusted gold ring on her left hand—did he bring that anticipating they would indeed suit?It was way too large, but she held it on her finger with the tip of her thumb.

The vicar had them both kneel whereupon he blessed them. And then it was over. She was married. Safe from her uncle. She smiled brightly at her husband—my, that word felt strange—and he smiled back.

The laird stood and helped her to her feet. Before he was able to give her a kiss, Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, “I can already see that the two of you are very well-suited.”

“I believe you are right,” Laird Lindsay said. He then turned to Christine, taking both her hands in his. The vicar shoved a paper—most likely the marriage certificate—at the laird, closed his book, offered his felicitations and left.

“There is a hackney awaiting you downstairs,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said, then cast her attention toward Christine. “I assume you will be visiting with your solicitor immediately?”

“Yes.” Christine had already arranged with her bank to release the agreed upon fee to Mrs. Dove-Lyon for her services once she saw her solicitor, who would then notify the bank.

“Then I wish you both well.” With those words, she also left the room through the back door. The man who escorted them up opened the front door and waved them out.

This all seemed so very rushed that Christine’s brain was spinning. She’d said yes to the laird’s proposal, the vicar entered, Mrs. Dove-Lyon arrived with a bouquet, a few words were spoken, a ring was placed on her finger, and they all left through different doors.

She looked up at her husband and shook her head. “What just happened?”

“What just happenedas far as I’m concerned is I dinna get to bestow a kiss on my lovely bride.” He looked down at her with twinkling green eyes.

“It did all end rather abruptly, did it not?” As confused as she felt, she was also somewhat giddy.

Kerrigan gave her a brief nod, and then after leaving the building, looked around the area, then led her to the end of the pavement where a hackney stood, the driver leaning against the carriage, his arms folded, obviously hoping for a customer. She gave the driver the directions, then Kerrigan helped her into the hackney, following her behind. He settled on the bench across from her. “Do ye feel as though ye were rushed, lass?”

“Yes. A bit. But I’m thinking you feel more rushed since I am the one who needed a quick wedding, then a visit to my solicitor to protect my money.”

Kerrigan felt as though he should reach across the way and bring Christine to his side, but considering that only an hour ago they didn’t even know each other, ’twas probably best to give her time.

“Do ye wish to tell me about yerself? Or yer uncle who has caused this race to the solicitor?”

She shook her head. “I just want to get this part over.”

He nodded. “I am not verra familiar with London, since I try to avoid it at all costs, but I’m hoping ye ken of a place where we can have a nice meal when we’re through with this.”