Page 50 of To Honor

“Apologies, Father,” Gareth said. “For waking you at such an hour.”

“Waking me?” The old man squinted. “Do you think I am so old as to have been abed already?”

“I am Lady Evelina, and this is Sir Gareth Claymore,” Evelina said, helping Gareth avoid the question. “And my maid, Amalia Sinclair.”

“Mmm,” he murmured noncommittally. “This is highly irregular,” he began, as if unhappy to be standing here with them. “But for the man who saved Lincoln Castle for the empress, and”—he frowned—“because your father assures me you will marry with or without the church’s blessing this eve . . .” He nodded toward the chapel. “Come.”

They had not even entered the church when the priest, from the top stairs that led inside, turned to them. “I’d not relight the candles,” he said. “This will do.”

It was better, Evelina supposed, than marrying on the road or in another place. As Gareth said, certainly not what she’d expected. But better in all the ways that mattered.

“We gather here beneath the vast tapestry of the heavens to witness a union blessed by love and hidden from the eyes of the world. In the sacred presence of nature and the divine, Lady Evelina Ashford and Sir Gareth Claymore, you have chosen this clandestine bond of matrimony.”

Was this truly happening?

She glanced at her father. He had made this happen. What would be the consequence for him? Evelina had asked many times, Eamon dismissing her each time. She peeked then at Amalia, who appeared just as taken aback at how quickly the priest was moving.

“Lady Evelina, do you willingly bind your fate to Sir Gareth, promising your love, loyalty and unwavering support, in the face of adversity and joy, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” she said as Gareth took both of her hands.

“And you, Sir Gareth. Do you willingly bind your fate to Lady Evelina, promising your love, loyalty and unwavering support, in the face of adversity and joy, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“Let these vows be as binding as the roots of the ancient oak behind this chapel, as enduring as the stones beneath our feet. With this exchanged token of your commitment, I pronounce you wedded. May your love be as timeless as the stars above and as unyielding as the earth beneath us. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”

When Gareth leaned down to kiss her, Evelina could hardly relish it.

“Are we really married?” she whispered.

“Aye, lass, you are married,” the priest said.

“You are Scots?” she asked, the question leaving her lips when it was hardly formed.

The priest and her father exchanged a glance. “I am,” he said, as if withholding something. “You may tell her,” he added, before walking around them and down the stairs. “May God bless your union and protect your fellow Guardians,” he said.

She stared at his retreating back as the priest entered the rectory just beside the church.

“Father?”

How was it the word so easily fell from her lips? She’d thought another man her father as long as Evelina had walked this earth, and yet Eamon had earned the title in so short a time.

“I would not have told you without his permission. Few know and Father Percival would keep it that way for fear of retribution.”

“Know what?” Gareth asked, still holding both of her hands.

Nay, not Gareth.

Her husband.

“He is the youngest brother of King David of Scotland. One few know about, a tale too long to tell now.”

“But the king is . . .” Evelina began, and stopped. Of course. “He married us because of Gareth’s deeds at Lincoln Castle.”

“Aye,” her father confirmed.

“Let these vows be as binding as the roots of the ancient oak behind this chapel,” she quoted. “The ancient oak. ’Twas no coincidence he used those words. The priest is Matilda’s uncle.”