Page 39 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

E velina hadn’t seen Lord Ashford since she stormed out of his solar chamber. She had waited for Gareth to leave the manor and spoke to him briefly on his way out last eve. They agreed to a new plan, one he’d speak to Eamon about.

Would her father, her real father, agree?

At least she had not been held against her will or locked in her bedchamber as Evelina feared. She had little doubt, however, such extreme measures were not impossible, which was why they were not taking a chance.

“I cannot believe this is happening,” Amalia said beside her as they waited in the chapel’s garden. Finally able to tell her friend, she and Amalia had packed a small traveling bag each and, incredibly, were not stopped as they left the manor’s grounds.

“I am sorry I was unable to tell you sooner. Eamon asked I wait, and I followed those instructions, at least.”

“If only you had followed all of your father—your real father’s—instructions.”

She winced. Amalia was right, of course, but what was done was done.

“There they are.”

Gareth and Eamon, as they’d done the day before, came through the thicket together. This time, she did not wait for her father’s permission but instead ran to Gareth, tossing her arms around him. He held on tight, and she did not wish to let go.

“We must hurry,” Eamon said.

Separating herself from Gareth, she ran to her father instead. Though she did not know what he thought of their altered plan, one thing was clear. He was not wroth with her, even after what she’d done. Evelina hugged Eamon tight, thanking him.

“What would we do without you?”

He pulled away. “Likely the same thing you are planning now. I cannot be gone long, so we must be away.”

“You will do it?”

He did not seem pleased. “I will.”

“My maid will join us. I fear repercussions for her otherwise.”

Eamon nodded to Amalia. “Very well.”

“Come,” Gareth said, taking her hand. “Quickly.”

It was not until near nightfall, after their party had ridden all day, that their destination came into view.

Though they did not need the permission of a priest—Evelina and Gareth could marry in any location by simply exchanging vows—they’d all agreed, if possible, the presence of one was preferable.

Getting married was easy. Proving said marriage could be more difficult, even with Eamon and Amalia as witness.

Kindridge Moor was as good a town as any.

Large enough for Gareth and Evie not to be noticed as newcomers, close enough for Eamon to bear witness and return to Castle Blackwood, it boasted both a monastery and small chapel.

They agreed to start with the priest, who Eamon knew from passing through the town before.

He was sympathetic to Empress Matilda and therefore may also be sympathetic to their cause.

“Father Percival is old,” he said. “And likely abed. But I cannot wait to return until morn.”

“If we cannot find him,” Gareth said, “we go to the monastery instead.”

Though they were stopped at the town’s gates, their party passed through easily enough.

Nestled among rolling hills, the entire town was surrounded by a stone wall punctuated by watchtowers and guarded gateways.

They rode through the narrow and winding streets flanked by timber-framed houses with thatched roofs.

At its center, a cobblestone path led to a stone fountain adorned with carved mythical creatures.

“This way.” Eamon turned, leading them down yet another narrow road. It opened eventually to a small chapel, smaller than Evelina would have expected for a town of this size, and he bid them wait. “I will be back.”

Dismounting, Gareth aided both her and Amalia and led all three of their mounts to a hitching post near the darkened chapel.

“I’m sorry,” he said, coming back to them.

“Why?” she asked.

Amalia looked at Gareth much as she had all day. As if she did not know quite what to think. Evelina understood. Since last eve, her mind was a thunderstorm of clouds and thunder, and she hoped only that calm would follow.

“I do not imagine this is what you hoped your wedding to be. In a strange town with few witnesses in the dark of night.”

As Amalia fumbled through one of the saddlebags, Evelina addressed Gareth’s concern.

“I imagined my wedding to be arranged by my father, the groom a stranger to me. Not one day of my life had I hoped to marry a man I love. So if you are sorry for the gown I’m wearing”—she gestured to a gown that was lovely, even if it was not designed for her wedding—“or the lack of a feast or any other thing that matters naught to me, please do not be.”

Gareth pulled her into his arms. “I love you more every day, Evie.” He whispered into her ear, “And though this was not our plan, you will be my wife this eve. Do you know what that means?”

She did indeed and had thought about it each time she caught him looking at her as they rode. Or when his hand grazed hers as their horses fed beside each other when they stopped earlier.

“I do,” she whispered back.

“This is the couple, then?”

They spun, Gareth dropping his hand from her waist.

An elderly man, white hair well below his shoulders, stood next to her father. He looked as if he had indeed been roused from his bed.

“Apologies, Father,” Gareth said. “For waking you at such an hour.”

“Waking me?” The old man squinted. “Do you think I am so old as to have been abed already?”

“I am Lady Evelina, and this is Sir Gareth Claymore,” Evelina said, helping Gareth avoid the question. “And my maid, Amalia Sinclair.”

“Mmm,” he murmured noncommittally. “This is highly irregular,” he began, as if unhappy to be standing here with them.

“But for the man who saved Lincoln Castle for the empress, and”—he frowned—“because your father assures me you will marry with or without the church’s blessing this eve.

..” He nodded toward the chapel. “Come.”

They had not even entered the church when the priest, from the top stairs that led inside, turned to them. “I’d not relight the candles,” he said. “This will do.”

It was better, Evelina supposed, than marrying on the road or in another place. As Gareth said, certainly not what she’d expected. But better in all the ways that mattered.

“We gather here beneath the vast tapestry of the heavens to witness a union blessed by love and hidden from the eyes of the world. In the sacred presence of nature and the divine, Lady Evelina Ashford and Sir Gareth Claymore, you have chosen this clandestine bond of matrimony.”

Was this truly happening?

She glanced at her father. He had made this happen. What would be the consequence for him? Evelina had asked many times, Eamon dismissing her each time. She peeked then at Amalia, who appeared just as taken aback at how quickly the priest was moving.

“Lady Evelina, do you willingly bind your fate to Sir Gareth, promising your love, loyalty and unwavering support, in the face of adversity and joy, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” she said as Gareth took both of her hands.

“And you, Sir Gareth. Do you willingly bind your fate to Lady Evelina, promising your love, loyalty and unwavering support, in the face of adversity and joy, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“Let these vows be as binding as the roots of the ancient oak behind this chapel, as enduring as the stones beneath our feet. With this exchanged token of your commitment, I pronounce you wedded. May your love be as timeless as the stars above and as unyielding as the earth beneath us. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”

When Gareth leaned down to kiss her, Evelina could hardly relish it.

“Are we really married?” she whispered.

“Aye, lass, you are married,” the priest said.

“You are Scots?” she asked, the question leaving her lips when it was hardly formed.

The priest and her father exchanged a glance. “I am,” he said, as if withholding something. “You may tell her,” he added, before walking around them and down the stairs. “May God bless your union and protect your fellow Guardians,” he said.

She stared at his retreating back as the priest entered the rectory just beside the church.

“Father?”

How was it the word so easily fell from her lips? She’d thought another man her father as long as Evelina had walked this earth, and yet Eamon had earned the title in so short a time.

“I would not have told you without his permission. Few know and Father Percival would keep it that way for fear of retribution.”

“Know what?” Gareth asked, still holding both of her hands.

Nay, not Gareth.

Her husband.

“He is the youngest brother of King David of Scotland. One few know about, a tale too long to tell now.”

“But the king is...” Evelina began, and stopped. Of course. “He married us because of Gareth’s deeds at Lincoln Castle.”

“Aye,” her father confirmed.

“Let these vows be as binding as the roots of the ancient oak behind this chapel,” she quoted. “The ancient oak. ’Twas no coincidence he used those words. The priest is Matilda’s uncle.”

“Indeed.” Her father looked at their joined hands. “’Tis done. And I must return to Blackwood immediately.”

“You would not stay for at least a meal?”

“Nay. I would be back before the sun rises. There’s an inn on the edge of town.” He pointed in the opposite direction from where they came. “That way. I will send word as soon as I am able.” He turned to Amalia. “Perhaps you should return with me?”

Amalia was as surprised as Evelina with that declaration.

“Father?”

“I know it will be a long journey,” he said. “But I’ve been considering . . . if there is a question of the legality of their marriage, it may aid Evie and Gareth’s cause to have a witness that is not related to either party.”

“She cannot go back to Ashcroft,” Evelina said, the thought of Amalia having to face the baron alone unthinkable.

“Of course she cannot.” Eamon addressed Amalia. “You will stay at Castle Blackwood under my protection.”

“Until Evie can return?”

Evelina and her father looked at one another. She wished there was more confidence in his expression that such a thing would be possible. But the truth was, their return depended on Ashcroft.

“Aye, until she can return,” he said finally.

“I will come,” Amalia said. “And give the newly married couple time alone to enjoy?—”

Her father coughed. “I think perhaps we should be on our way.”

Evelina smiled as Amalia rushed up to her. They squeezed each other tight, neither saying aloud what they both knew.

None could say when they would see each other again.

“Fare thee well,” Amalia said to Gareth as the women broke apart.

Evelina hugged her father tight, thanking him for all he’d done. After he shook Gareth’s hand and led Amalia to her mount, Evelina and Gareth were alone at last.

“Husband,” she said, wishing to try the moniker.

“Wife,” he responded with a smile. “Shall we find that inn your father mentioned?”

“For a meal.”

Gareth winked. “That too.”