Belle leaned back to gaze into his determined eyes. “I’ve missed my brothers and they’ll want to spend time with me, too, Simon.”
“Then your brothers can visit, sweet, but I’m not taking up residence with them.” He shuddered at the thought. “Why are we even discussing this?”
“Because you know how much I enjoy stirring up trouble—and my brothers are even worse.”
He snorted and then murmured in a low voice so that only she can hear, “They cannot be that spectacular. Why Lord Beaverstoke succeeded in minutes where they failed for years. I will take my chances.”
“You are incorrigible. You kidnapped me without their knowledge! They are chasing us even now. They will not like it.”
“If I asked their permission, then it wouldn’t have been a kidnapping, now would it?”
She burst into laughter at that. “Who knew you were so fond of trouble, Simon Tremaine?” Belle threw herself into his arms. “But I like trouble. So marry me and be done with it.”
A low growl of approval rumbled in his chest and he lowered his head—
“Oh, I know!” Lady Lucinda chirped just as Simon was about to touch his lips to Belle’s. “We can have a double wedding!”
Their heads whipped around in something akin to horror, but they managed to quickly mask their expressions.
A double wedding?
With Lady Lucinda and Lord Beaverstoke?
Oh dear.
“That is a splendid idea, my dear. We’ve caught a villain together, so it is only natural that we get married together.”
This was by far the strangest couple Belle had ever encountered.
“Yes, it is a grand plan, is it not?” Lady Lucinda replied.
What could she possibly say?
Belle glanced helplessly at Simon, who appeared more amused than averse. He caught her gaze and lowered his mouth to her ear. “They did save our lives,” he whispered.
Belle sighed in resignation before a thought caused her to smile. She lived rather a rather unconventional life, why should her nuptials be any different?
Victory: an act of defeating an enemy in battle. Usually, followed by a celebration of sorts. And, in Belle’s case, what better way was there to celebrate their triumph than vowing to love one another till death do them part?
So, one minute on the hour after their miraculous win, Simon and Belle were married alongside Lord Beaverstoke and Lady Lucinda. A peculiar wedding with a peculiar couple in celebration of an even more peculiar end.
Belle stood with Simon pressed up against her side, their hands clasped together, grinning at each other, Lady Lucinda’s giggles of excitement something of a distant sound.
What Belle had seen of the couple’s vows had been earnest and passionate. They completely ignored the blacksmith’s attempts to hurry things along. Their love was bright, certainly, but still failed to match what Belle felt at that moment for the man gazing down at her.
When their turn came, Belle had floated on a cloud of bliss, the blacksmith’s words soundless in the wake Simon’s eyes, so filled with awe. There was a slightly mischievous tilt to his already-grinning lips that fascinated her and it was only by the sudden expectation in his gaze that she knew it was her turn to say “I do.”
The vow left her lips in a rather breathless whisper.
Then the blacksmith exclaimed in a boisterous voice: “What therefore God hath joined together, let no man put asunder!”
But Simon was already kissing her, his tongue impatient to invade the silken softness of her mouth.
Belle’s eyes stung with tears and Simon, who must have felt the trickle on his upper lip, moved his mouth to hover slightly over her ear, “No regrets?”
She sniffed. “Absolutely not.”
The smile he gave her sent butterflies aflutter in her mid-region. Magic lived in the love that bound them together.
