Nick clenched his fists to keep from throttling her. “And what exactly do you want me to do?”
“Wake him up. Make him do the ceremony over.”
Nick peered closely at the unconscious priest. “This one’s not going to wake for some time.” He pried the jug of brandy from the man’s plump hand and put it to his mouth. Only a trickle of the sweet liquor flowed over Nick’s tongue. Would nothing go his way? “He’s out for the night.”
Ashley frowned, his pronouncement quite obviously not what she wanted to hear. He didn’t particularly give a damn right now. He didn’t want to be married to her any more than she wanted him. In fact, he’d done everything in his power to avoid this fate.
And here he was anyway.
Nick didn’t care for Lady Madeleine one way or the other, but he would have much preferred being leg-shackled to her than Ashley Brittany—a woman who made his head spin every time he looked at her. A woman who had tried her damnedest to see him killed by sending her bloodthirsty eldest brother after him. She hadn’t counted on Nick besting Thomas Brittany and sending the lad back with a bloody nose and a broken finger. She was no saint. He would do well to remember that—and remind her as often as possible.
“Well, at least try to wake him,” Ashley demanded, pointing at the priest.
Nick stepped back and opened his arms wide. “You want to try, you’re welcome to it, sweetheart. I’m going to see if my brother and Lady Madeleine have come up with anything better.”
“Fine. And stop calling me sweetheart.”
“You prefer another sobriquet? Because I can think of a few that fit you far better than sweetheart.”
“And I can think of several choice names for you. Starting with—”
He put a finger over her lips silencing her. “Save them for later.” He winked. “When we’re alone.”
He turned and strolled out the back door, leaving her to call a sampling of her favorite epithets after him.
He smiled and closed the door.
She was still feisty as hell. At least that hadn’t changed.
He surveyed the moonlit courtyard where he’d left his brother and Lady Madeleine. After they’d dispatched Lord Castleigh’s footmen, Jack had suggested they split up to make it more difficult for Ashley’s father, should he still be in pursuit, to catch them. Nick had argued and gone back to attempt to rouse the priest. Jack and Lady Madeleine would just have to wait for the priest to wake and repeat the ceremony—marrying the correct couples this time—and the four of them might as well all wait together. “Our noble priest is half-seas over,” he announced to the courtyard. “He won’t—” Nick paused.
The courtyard was empty.
Jack and Lady Madeleine were gone.
Nick leaned back against the wall of the blacksmith’s shop and wished he had a cheroot. Better yet, he wished he had a jug of rum. Maybe if he was as drunk as the priest he’d understand how all of this had happened. At the very least, he wouldn’t care that his brother and Lady Madeleine were gone, and Nick was now irrevocably wed to Ashley, The Hellion, Brittany.
He deserved his fate, of course. He was the one who’d insulted Bleven. He was the one who’d pulled Jack—who’d been completely innocent of any wrongdoing—into the muddle, and Nick was the one who reveled in the adventure of escaping Bleven and his small army of thugs. Nick loved a challenge, always had. Well, he had one now. But Ashley Brittany was more than a challenge. She was a trial by fire, a test of his patience and his sanity.
If they made it through even one day without killing each other, he would count their marriage a success.
Marriage.
How could he be married? What the hell was he going to do with a wife?
No, not just any wife. What the bloody hell was he going to do with Ashley Brittany? She’d cared for him once, but he’d made damn sure he’d annihilated that feeling.
Regret slammed into him like a hammer. His insides wanted to shatter, but he fought the feeling. He didn’t have the luxury of regret. He’d done what he had to do, done what was best for Ashley.
Nick stared at the dark sky and shook his head. Sometimes he wondered if somebody up there didn’t have it in for him. Whoever was in charge of the universe had one cruel sense of humor.
A piercing shriek rent the quiet night, and Nick jumped. His hand went to his belt, but he’d forgotten he wasn’t wearing his cutlass.
Damn it!
He heard the scream again, and this time he placed it. Inside the blacksmith’s shop.
Ashley.
