But she wasn’t entirely free. They had some unfinished business that weighed heavily on Grif’s mind.
Grif took a room at an inn in Carlisle, posing as a man and his boy, so that Grif might buy some provisions. He purchased two suitable gowns for Anna as well as some shoes. Anna insisted she loved the shoes, but he could not help noticing that she could hardly bring herself to look at them. Perhaps study black walking shoes had not been the ideal choice, but he had thought them rather practical.
Grif also purchased two saddles for the long ride to Talla Dileas. The gowns, shoes, and saddles put Grif near the end of his funds. But he was certain that Hugh was already in Gretna Green. He fully expected to marry Anna properly and continue on to Loch Chon the very next day.
He fully expected that, and nothing else.
There was nothing left but the unfinished business, for which Grif had also purchased vellum, so that they could, together, write a letter to her parents.
Anna labored long and hard over her portion of the letter, writing a few words, then putting down her pencil to rub her temples, then writing a few words more before she would stand and pace restlessly. When at last she finished, she put the epistle in the pocket of her trousers.
“Have ye done it, then?” he asked.
“I suppose I’ve done most of it,” she said with a frown. “It’s rather hard to do, actually. It doesn’t seem as if the story is quite finished, does it?”
There was nothing but a small cross at the border to signal the fact that they were free.
The afternoon they crossed into Scotland, Anna impulsively looked over her shoulder and felt tremendous relief. Although they had not seen the men from Nottingham again, she had never felt free of them. It was as if some invisible person were watching her, following her every move, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch her from this dream.
But there was no one to snatch her, nothing but green rolling fields and sheep.
“Anna? Are ye all right, then?”
She loved the sound of his Scottish burr, so familiar to her now, so much a part of her. She turned toward him, smiling. “Quite,” she said, reaching for his hand. “Better than I’ve ever been in my life.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
On the outskirts of the little village of Gretna Green, they stopped in a heavily wooded area so that Anna might don one of the gowns Grif had given her. In the village, they stabled the horses and walked about, deciding at last to inquire within the dry goods shop as to where they might find a vicar. Neither of them wanted to wait a moment more.
The shopkeeper was busy counting what looked like licorice candies. “Blacksmith,” he said without looking up from his count.
“The smithy?” Grif repeated, exchanging a glance with Anna.
“Aye, the smithy. Round the corner just there,” the shopkeeper added with a nod of his head.
“Perhaps he’s having his horse shod,” Grif said reassuringly to Anna’s worried look as they walked out of the shop.
But the vicar was not having his horse shod. The vicar was shodding the horse, as he was the smithy. He looked up as Grif and Anna entered the wide barn doors and gave them a quick once-over. “Wedding, is it?”
“Aye,” Grif said, taking Anna’s hand.
“Two pounds.”
“Very well,” Grif agreed. “Is the vicar within?”
“Here, lad,” the smithy said, rising to his feet and pointing to himself. “SEAMUS!” he roared.
An elderly man instantly shuffled through a back door, wiping his hands on his apron. The smithy said something to him that Anna could not quite catch—it sounded a bit like English, and maybe a bit like Grif’s language. Whatever it was, Seamus seemed to understand it, and disappeared to the back room.
“Ye’ll stand there,” the smithy said, pointing with his poker to a large cold anvil near one of several thick posts that held up the roof. “I’ll be but a moment.” And as he went about putting away his implements, Seamus reappeared, carrying the Book of Common Prayer and a dirtied white ecclesiastical stole, which he handed to the smithy.
The smithy draped the soiled stole around his neck and opened the Book of Common Prayer.
“Ye’ll be needing a proper witness, aye?” a familiar voice asked from behind them, and Anna and Grif both whirled around to a grinning Hugh.
“MacAlister!” Grif cried, grabbing his hand and clapping him on the shoulder.
“I rather imagined ye’d make yer way here above all else,” Hugh said with a wink, and took Anna’s hand and kissed it warmly. “Miss Addison, what a beautiful bride ye are,” he said gallantly.
“Have you been here long?” Grif asked.
“A day or two.”
“Did ye meet with any trouble?”
“No, of course no’,” Hugh scoffed, still smiling at Anna. But then he shrugged a bit. “Perhaps a wee spot of trouble. Never mind that now, lad. I’ll tell ye all, but at the moment I’d be honored to witness yer marriage, I would.”