“Thank you,” Anna said.
“And I’ll have ye know, lass, that I stand before ye now as a gentleman and a friend, and most certainly no’ as Lockhart’s bloody valet.”
Anna laughed. “I am right thankful for that, for I understand that you were not a particularly good valet.”
Hugh laughed roundly and fondly patted Grif on the back. “On me life, the worst valet in all of England for the worst lord!”
“Shall ye turn round now?” the smithy asked loudly. “I’ve too much work to dally. If ye would, sir, take her hand,” he instructed Grif.
Beaming, Grif took Anna’s hand; Hugh moved to stand beside him. The smithy flipped through several pages of the Book of Common Prayer. “Ah, here we are, then,” he muttered.
Grif squeezed Anna’s hand and flashed her a handsome smile.
The smithy cleared his throat, and began in a theatrical voice, “‘Dearly beloved, we gather today in the sight of God to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony.’” He paused, looked up at them. “I’ll just hurry it along a bit, if ye donna mind,” he said, and held the book out before him. “‘The holy estate which Christ adorned and beautified with his presence…’”
He paused again, squinting at the book.
“Aha, here we are,” he said, and straightened again. “’Tis no’ to be taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God. It is ordained for the increase of mankind according to the will of God, and it is also ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into this holy estate ye come now to be joined. Will ye…’” He glanced up and pointed at Grif. “Yer name, then, lad.”
“Ah…Griffin Finnius Lockhart.”
“Will ye, Griffin Finnius Lockhart, take…?” He looked at Anna, cocked a brow.
“Anna Louise Addison.”
“And will ye love her, comfort her, honor and protect her, forsaking all others, and be ever faithful to her for as long as ye both might live, then?”
“I will indeed,” Grif said, smiling at Anna.
“And, lass, ye will do the same, will ye no’?”
“I will,” Anna avowed.
“Any objection?”
“No, sir!” Hugh said grandly.
“Then as hammer and anvil join metal together in the heat of the fire, I hereby join ye together in the heat of this moment!” he said, and made the motion of a cross. “Two pound, if ye please,” he said to Grif, “and will ye put yer names to the register. Yer witness, too.”
Grif let out a whoop, grabbed Anna up, kissed her hard on the lips as he twirled her around. “Mrs. Griffin Lockhart,” he said with a broad grin, and kissed her again, until the smithy tapped him on the shoulder, wanting his two pounds.
As Grif fished the money from his pocket, Hugh grabbed Anna and kissed her fully on the lips, and showed no inclination of letting go until Grif playfully slapped the back of his head, at which point he let go of Anna and grabbed Grif in a big bear hug. “Aye, and the luck of the Scottish with ye, Grif,” he said genuinely. “May ye be blessed with many wee bairns that have their mother’s beauty and their father’s stubborn determination.”
His wish caused Anna to laugh giddily. How remarkable that she’d come so far in so short a time, to this, to her heart’s desire. She had married Grif and she loved him, and they were happily and forever married. As if to seal it, Grif took her hand, and together they signed the register, their full names and their ages, alongside Hugh.
When the three of them turned round again, Seamus had disappeared, the smithy had already divested himself of the Book of Common Prayer and the ecclesiastical stole, and was back at work.
“Come on, then. We must hold a proper celebration,” Hugh insisted. “Ye must have a wedding supper at the Queen’s Head Inn.”
Hugh insisted on making the arrangements for a wedding supper, which Grif and Anna were happy to let him do, for they were far more interested in one another and the very new and exciting notion that they were, indeed, husband and wife, and free to enjoy all that entailed.
Hugh called the innkeeper to them at once. “I introduce ye to Griffin Lockhart,” he said, bowing toward a beaming Grif, “who traveled as far as London to find his bride, and now they’ve just come from the vicar and would request a wedding supper.”
The innkeeper’s ruddy face lit with delight. “Aye, of course, sir! Ealasaid!” he shouted, and a girl with the same ruddy face appeared from a door leading toward the kitchen. “Show his lordship and his bonny bride to a private dining room, aye? And bring round a bottle of Scots whiskey!”
“Aye, bring the best Scots whiskey ye have,” Grif said. “I would introduce me English bride to one of many fine qualities of Scotland.”