The Marriage Spell (12 page)

“Watch your step,” Ransom said. “The ground is rough here.”

“I'm learning that the world is full of hazards if you're on crutches.” Jack clambered awkwardly up the three steps to the church and swung through the door that Ashby opened for him.

His shoulders and armpits ached from his stealthy practicing on the crutches the day before, but it would be worth it to surprise Abby. He grinned, wondering if she would smile with pleasure to see him upright or frown with concern that he was pushing himself too hard. Either expression would be charming.

Concentrating hard on the floor, which was flagstone and considerably less than even, he made his way to the front of the church. Beside him, Winslow said, “If you have any doubts, you don't have to go through with this. No one would blame you for refusing to be coerced into marriage with a wyrdling.”

Jack stopped his slow progress so he could glare at his friend. “I have not been coerced and I have no doubts. If you feel you can't support me in this, you are free to leave. There's still time to join today's hunt if you hurry.”

“I swear the woman has enchanted you, despite your anti-magic charm.” Winslow's eyes narrowed. “You had to have given her permission to use magic to heal you. Maybe she took advantage of that to ensorcell you at the same time.”

Jack was ready to explode furiously when Ransom's mild voice intervened. “Careful, Winslow, or you will find out just how formidable a weapon a crutch can be. And I might hold you down so Jack can take a few extra whacks.”

The interruption gave Jack time to recapture his temper. Lowering himself into the front pew, he said, “Lucas, you're an ass, but I'll forgive you this time because your intentions are good. Wrong, but good. Abby gave me a chance to withdraw, and I found that I didn't want to. She didn't ensorcell me.”

He hesitated before saying with the surprise of discovery, “The plain truth is that I
like
her. Yes, she's a wizard, but she doesn't make me feel clumsy or tongue-tied, like so many grand ladies do. She's kind and bright and down-to-earth. I think I'm damned lucky to have found her even though I did it the hard way.”

Ashby added, “If you'd seen Abby in action, you would have no doubts, Lucas. She isn't at all like the bits of fluff that appeal to you, and that's all to the good.”

Winslow started to snap a reply, then halted. “Very well, I…I apologize for doubting your choice, Jack. I shall attempt to see her as you do. As for my support—you always have that.”

“Thank you.” Jack grimaced. “I'm going to need that support in society, where too many people will assume I've gone mad, or that Abby used magic to steal my wits.”

A man entered the sanctuary from a small side door. The vicar, by his dress. As Jack was thinking he looked familiar, Ransom stepped forward, hand extended. “Mr. Wilson. We met at the healing circle, I believe.”

The vicar returned the handshake. “We did indeed. I'm glad we meet again in happier circumstances.” He turned and shook Jack's hand. “No need to stand, Lord Frayne. You're looking well. You're a lucky man in more ways than one.”

“Thank you, sir. I agree.” Jack heard footsteps and swiveled around, wondering if the bridal party had arrived. No Abby, but half a dozen people were taking seats in the rear. A moment later, a family with several children entered and also sat down.

The door hadn't even closed before three men with similar long noses entered, two carrying fiddles and one a wooden flute. The three walked to the front of the church. While the fiddlers studied Jack with frank curiosity, the flutist said to the vicar, “Sir, they say Miss Abby is getting married today. Do you think she'd like it if we played for her?”

The vicar smiled. “I think she'd be very pleased, as long as you play when she's coming and going and not during the actual service.”

The flutist bobbed his head and led his companions off to one side of the church, where they started playing softly. They were quite good, too, though Jack didn't recognize the music.

In the time that the musicians were getting settled, at least a dozen more people had come into the church. Most seemed like simple villagers and laborers dressed in plain, neat garments. Perplexed, Jack said to the vicar, “Abby and I had planned to have a very small wedding with just a few friends. Who are all these people?”

“They've all been helped by Abby and her family at one time or another,” Wilson replied. “Word of the wedding obviously got out and they've come to pay their respects. Since the church is open to all, they are welcome to attend. You are a fortunate man to marry a woman who is so loved.”

Even Winslow looked impressed by the vicar's explanation. With a nod of his head, Wilson moved away to speak with a woman and her daughter at the front of the church. They were placing vases of berried branches, holly leaves, cattails, and other vegetation that could be found at this stark season. The arrangements were quite pretty, too. Jack thought of the parable of the widow's mite. These were offerings of people with little money but a true-hearted desire to honor Abby.

A voice said excitedly, “The bride has arrived!”

With shuffling feet and rustling clothing, dozens of people rose as the double doors to the church opened. Sunshine illuminated the four figures who stepped inside. Sir Andrew Barton, Judith Wayne, Abby's maid—but it was only Abby that he really saw. She looked like a goddess. The sun caught golden and auburn highlights in her hair and shimmered on her ripe, womanly form. Judith removed the cloak from Abby's shoulders and his bride moved forward through the light, music swelling to fill the church with exhilarating melody.

Ashby had been right. Abby wasn't beautiful—she was magnificent.

Chapter
XI

C
oming out of the bright sunlight, Abby had trouble seeing inside the dim church. Good heavens, who were all these people? As her eyes adjusted, she recognized the friends and neighbors she had grown up with. News of the wedding had spread. The Mackie brothers had even come to play for her. Tom, the eldest, had recovered well from the lung disease she'd treated, or he wouldn't be playing the flute with such joyous sweetness.

Her gaze went to the altar, and there was Jack. And he was standing with crutches! He must have enlisted his friends to acquire them and watch over him as he practiced. She should worry that he was walking too soon, but she couldn't prevent herself from beaming with delight. Though he was not yet fully healed, he was once again the powerful, compelling man who had held her attention for years. And so handsome in dark formal wear that he took her breath away.

Gracefully in time to the music, Judith walked down the center aisle, nodding to people she recognized and babies she had delivered. Taking a tight grip on her father's arm, Abby followed, her gaze on Jack.

When she reached the altar, her father kissed her on the cheek, saying softly, “Be happy, my darling.” Then he stepped back, no longer the most important man in her life.

Before she could shed threatening tears, Jack reached out to take her hand, almost dropping the crutch in the process. Ashby deftly stabilized it.

“You are lovely, my lass,” Jack whispered, a hint of Yorkshire in his voice for the first time since they'd met. She knew instinctively that he was speaking from his heart.

She clenched his hand, hardly daring to believe they were really about to wed. They had never stood side by side like this, and she hadn't fully realized just how tall he was. Most men were near her own height, but with Jack, she had to look up. Those shoulders looked so much wider now that he was standing rather than lying on a bed.

Her gaze locked with Jack's as she listened to the ancient, beautiful words that joined them together. When Mr. Wilson said, “With this ring I thee wed,” Jack accepted the ring from Ashby and almost dropped the other crutch. Ashby was a most efficient best man, for he managed to keep the crutch from clattering to the floor.

Jack might have trouble managing his crutches, but the ring was a perfect fit when he slid it onto her third finger. “With this ring I thee wed. With my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow,” he said softly.

After the vicar blessed the marriage, Jack leaned forward to give Abby the kiss of peace. Though the touch of his lips on her cheek was light, she almost dissolved as shocks of delight ran through her.

And then the ceremony was over and the Mackies' music soared into a triumphal march. She looked up at Jack, still beaming, and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for becoming my husband.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “I wish I could walk down the aisle holding your hand, but I can't. If I had a third hand, maybe.”

She laughed and placed her hand lightly at the small of his back. “This will do, I think. Come, my lord.”

She saw something change in his eyes when she touched him. Then he turned, moving the crutches in short steps, and together they started to walk up the aisle.

Progress was slow because of the guests who called greetings or reached out to take Abby's hand. “We'll miss you, Miss Abby,” and “God bless and keep you,” were repeated over and over, along with thanks for particular healings she had done. She had known that she was liked and her healing talent valued, but this outpouring of love melted her heart. How could she leave the valley?

A glance at Jack reminded her of the answer. He was smiling and bantering with the guests, comfortable with them even though they were strangers from the lower classes. She worried a little about him keeping his balance in the press of people, but he kept his steps small, slow, and sure.

They reached the doorway and stayed there so Abby could speak to everyone who wanted to see her. Jack unobtrusively leaned against the door frame until the last congratulations and hugs were received. When only the wedding party was left, he shifted his weight onto his crutches again so they could leave. “I'm surprised they let me marry you, Abby. You are greatly valued.”

“Luckily, there are other good healers in the area.” She took her cloak from Judith and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I don't suppose you know if there are any healers in your family's part of Yorkshire?”

He made a face. “I have no idea, I'm afraid.” He set his crutches on the step below and lowered himself. Abby winced as he swayed, grateful that his friends were hovering beside and below to catch him if he fell. Luckily there were only three steps, and he made it safely to the ground without crashing. Though it was a near thing.

The waiting coach was decorated with seasonal greens and berries. Ashby handed her in since Jack couldn't. “I wish you happy, Lady Frayne.”

“Thank you for all you've done,” she said quietly. “It means a great deal to me to know that at least one of Jack's friends supports this marriage completely.”

The duke smiled wryly. “You see too much, Abby. But the others will come around as they get to know you better.”

She hoped so. After climbing up into the carriage, she slid to the far side of the seat. A moment later Jack joined her. He took up rather a lot of the seat, and the crutches were an awkward addition. As he propped them diagonally across the carriage, he asked, “Are you going to scold me for acquiring crutches behind your back?”

“You seem to be managing well and you haven't broken any more bones, so it would be very bad of me to scold.” She frowned as she saw him rubbing at his shoulder. “Are you finding the crutches uncomfortable?”

“My shoulders and underarms hurt like the devil.” He made a face. “Sorry, I shouldn't use such language in front of you, but I'm afraid I will. Regularly. I've spent too many years in the army. May I give a general apology for all present and future language transgressions?”

“Of course, and I now issue general forgiveness.” She chuckled. “I have an older brother, you know, so my ears are not so tender as you might think. But about those crutches. In my experience, it's best to rest most of your weight on the crossbars that support your hands. If you keep your arms straight, that will take some of the strain from your shoulders.”

He thought about it. “I can see where that might be an improvement. Thank you for the hint.”

Aided by Ashby, Judith climbed into the carriage and sat opposite Abby, deftly avoiding the crutches. Since she and the duke had stood witness, they were riding in the same carriage to the wedding breakfast. After Ashby joined them, they set off to Abby's new home. Conversation became general, for which she was glad. She wasn't quite ready to be alone with Jack. Until now, most of their conversations had been about his health. What would they talk about for the next few decades?

The weather had been dry, so they made good time on the journey across the valley. When they passed through the estate gates, Abby leaned forward to peer out the window. “Even though I've lived here my whole life, I've never seen Hill House. It was empty for years. How large is it?”

“Only six bedrooms,” Jack replied. “The place was in need of work, and most of the repairs I've made have been useful but unexciting things like the roof.” He looked wary. “You can change anything you like.”

“What Jack is trying to say,” Ashby put in smoothly, “is that the house is rather rough and in dire need of a lady's touch.”

“Oh, good! A project.” Abby smiled at her new husband. “It will give us something to talk about while we get used to being married.”

“A source of conversation. I hadn't thought of that.” Jack chuckled. “Hill House will provide a
lot
of conversation.”

So he had been worrying about what they would talk about, too! The knowledge made Abby feel less nervous.

The carriage emerged from a lane of trees and Abby saw the house for the first time. It was perhaps a century old, a gentleman's home about the size of Barton Grange. But while the Grange showed its origins as a farmhouse that had grown over time, Hill House had been built in the graceful, well-proportioned Palladian style. It was handsome but shabby. “This is most impressive for a hunting box. I shall enjoy spending your money on it. But not too much, I assume, since this isn't your principal seat.”

“Do what is necessary. I may spend a fair amount of time here, since I won't be much at the family seat in Yorkshire.”

Though Jack's words were neutral, Abby picked up a flicker of emotion from him, and it wasn't happy emotion. She supposed she would learn about his family problems soon enough.

When the carriage stopped in front of the entrance, two servants emerged to greet the new arrivals. One was Morris, Jack's valet, and Abby recognized the other as a servant of Ashby's, a highly competent majordomo. The duke had obviously taken steps behind the scenes to assure that all proceeded smoothly.

With the help of Ashby and Morris, Jack descended from the carriage and settled onto his crutches, keeping his arms straight and his weight on the crosspieces. His armpits would be the better for it, but learning a new walking technique made him unsteady. Abby tried not to flinch as Jack climbed the steps. Morris stood behind to catch him if he fell, and if he did, the distance probably wouldn't be mortal. But the sooner his leg was healed, the better for her nerves.

As soon as she entered Hill House, she understood why Jack had been apologetic about the place. Though the roof might be new, signs of old water damage were visible in the entry hall. The sparse furnishings were old and worn. She guessed that when the previous owners left, they took all the good pieces with them.

But the hall had been scrubbed clean and decorated with tangy bunches of greens, a fire was roaring in the fireplace, and the delicious scents of hot food wafted through the air. Shabby Hill House might be, but it was welcoming. As of tomorrow, the house would become a most satisfying project.

T
hough called a wedding breakfast, the celebration didn't begin until well after noon. The duke's majordomo had organized a splendid spread, and the food, drink, and gallant toasts to the bride and groom lasted for hours. The two dozen guests were a diverse lot, but aristocrats, wizards, and country gentry mixed with surprising ease.

As the early winter dusk approached, Abby decided that it was time to end the party. Though Jack was enjoying the company of his friends, Abby could sense how low his energy was, and hers wasn't much better. She rose. “It's dreadfully rude of me, but I'm going to send you all away so you can reach your homes safely before full dark. Thank you for coming to celebrate our wedding.”

Jack lifted his wineglass and surveyed the gathering, his gaze meeting that of each guest. “To friendship, which is the heart's blood of life. Thank you for celebrating with us today.”

The guests returned the toast, then accepted their dismissal good-naturedly, since Abby's point about the approaching darkness was valid. But there were enough teasing comments about being impatient for the wedding night to make Abby's cheeks red. She was just as glad that their consummation would be delayed and private.

Ashby, Ransom, and Winslow left. Ransom, surprisingly, kissed her hand. “For a while, I thought I'd never see Jack live long enough to wed. Thank you.”

Ashby squeezed her hand, needing no words to show his support. Her father, who was the last to leave, gave her a farewell hug. “I'm glad you'll be just across the valley for the next few weeks. Regular visits will give me time to adjust to your absence.”

She clung to him. “Just as I need time to adjust to being someone called Lady Frayne. When I was little, I never dreamed of marrying a lord. It's easier to think of myself as Mrs. Jack.”

Her father laughed. “Jack is not a particularly lordly lord, and you will make him a most refreshing lady.” His amusement faded. “This is the right time and the right man, Abby. That doesn't mean your marriage will be easy, but it will be worth it.” Gently he detached Abby and turned to descend the steps to his waiting carriage.

Suddenly bone tired, Abby returned to the dining room, where servants in Ashby's livery were quietly cleaning up. Jack had been holding court in a wing chair with his right leg supported on a matching ottoman. He gave her a tired smile. “It was a good wedding feast.”

“And we owe it to Ashby. Your friends did well by us.”

“One couldn't ask for better friends.” His smile was nostalgic. “As boys we swore an oath of loyalty to one another to help us survive the Stonebridge Academy. Being young and melodramatic, we decided to call ourselves the Stone Saints. There was considerable irony in the name since none of us were likely candidates for sainthood.”