like to pick with her uncle. As for this present outrage …
‘… do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?’
The priest’s voice brought him back to reality with a jolt. Taking a deep breath Harry made his reply. A short time later he heard the corresponding affirmation from Elena.
‘Do you have the ring?’
Harry looked blankly at the priest for a moment and then, as his brain caught up, realised he’d got nothing of the kind or indeed anything that would serve. In consequence it looked as though Elena’s humiliation wasn’t over yet. He took a deep breath.
‘I regret …’
Don Manuel cut him off. ‘It is here.’
From his jacket pocket he produced a fine gold band and placed it on the open bible. Harry stared at it in astonishment. Where the devil had the man got that from? Borrowed it from one of his entourage, perhaps? However, when he picked it up, it was immediately evident that so small a ring could never have belonged to any of the brawny thugs who had accompanied Don Manuel. It slid easily onto Elena’s slender finger though, almost as if it had been intended for the purpose. Suspicion took root. He shot a swift glance at the don and saw the faint cold smile on his lips. Implication became certainty and Harry understood then that this had been the intention from the outset. If ever I need a favour I will know where to come. When he discovered Elena had fled, her uncle had taken a shrewd guess at her plan and laid his own accordingly. On discovering his guess to be correct, he’d baited the trap and drawn them in. They’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker! In that moment Harry didn’t know what he wanted most: to shoot the old fox, to run him through or to strangle him with his bare hands.
Elena sensed the sudden increased tension in the man beside her. His anger was almost palpable now. She swallowed hard, not daring to look at him, too keenly aware of the enormity of what she had done. Instead she looked down at the ring on her hand. It felt like an alien presence but it bound them fast, like the promises they had just made. For one irrational moment she thought that, if they had been compelled to wed years ago, then their chance of happiness would surely have been as good as anyone else’s on entering the married state. As it was …
‘I now pronounce you husband and wife.’ The priest’s face assumed an unctuous smile. ‘You may kiss the bride.’
Her heartbeat accelerated. She saw Harry turn towards her and then his gaze met hers, only now the grey eyes revealed nothing of the thoughts behind. His face came closer and she closed her eyes, felt his lips brush hers, a sudden intimacy that intensified the fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. It should have been repellent but it was not. Rather it revived something in her that she had thought long lost. Then it was over. When she opened her eyes again he had drawn back. She saw him rise and extend a hand to her. Trembling she took it. Strong warm fingers closed over hers and squeezed gently, a gesture that was both reassuring and unexpected.
Wordlessly she allowed herself to be led from the church. After the close confines of the building with the musty smells of dust and stale incense, fresh air was a blessed relief. She took several deep breaths to steady herself. Then she became aware of the rest of her uncle’s entourage waiting a little way off, and with them Concha and Jack, both grim-faced. Harry paused and, retaining his hold on her hand, turned to face her uncle. For a moment they faced each other in silence. Then Don Manuel spoke.
‘I bid you both farewell. We shall not meet again.’
‘You are quite correct,’ replied Harry. ‘We shall not.’
The don strolled across to the horses and, retrieving his own, remounted. As the rest of his servants followed suit he glanced once more at the newly wed couple. Then he turned his horse’s head and rode away with his men.
For a moment the quartet in front of the church watched them go. Then several more moments passed in awkward silence. Offering congratulations to the newly married couple didn’t seem appropriate in the circumstances and yet, in the light of what had just happened, all other topics seemed irrelevant. It was Harry who eventually solved the dilemma.
‘It’s getting late. We’ll find an inn and stay there tonight. Jack, why don’t you and Concha go and seek out somewhere suitable?’
Clearly relieved at having something to do, Jack nodded. ‘Right away, my lord.’
He and Concha exchanged glances and then hurried off. Elena watched them depart and then turned to Harry.
‘I don’t know how I can begin to apologise to you.’
He surveyed her steadily. ‘It is not you who should apologise.’
‘I dragged you into this business and, but for me, you would still be a free man.’
‘But for you I might have been a dead man.’
‘You are generous.’
‘It’s the truth,’ he replied, though remembering the don’s cold smile he knew that superintending this marriage had always been the man’s intention.
‘Your life has been turned upside down because of my folly.’
‘You did what you felt you had to do at the time. Would you rather have gone to the convent?’
She shook her head. ‘Never that.’
‘Things could be much worse, then.’
‘They are bad enough, I think.’
‘You do yourself too much disservice.’ His gaze held hers. ‘I know that from now on I shall be the subject of much envy among my fellow men.’
She could detect no trace of irony in his tone or any note of disdain. It intensified her guilt. In many ways it would have been easier if he had given voice to his anger and berated her soundly. This quiet and gentlemanly conduct was unnerving. Was he waiting for a less public place in which to vent his wrath? After all, he could do anything he liked now. Officially she had become his property. As the ramifications of that loomed large her unease increased.
Fortunately Jack returned a few minutes later with the intelligence that suitable accommodation had been secured.
‘It’s not t’finest inn I’ve ever seen, my lord, but it’s clean and seems to be well-run.’
Harry smiled faintly. ‘Good. At least we can look forward to a decent meal and a comfortable bed, then.’
Elena’s stomach lurched.
The inn was just as Jack had described it: unpretentious but clean and well-run. The food, though equally unpretentious, was good, home-cooked fare. At any other time Elena would have enjoyed it. As it was, she had no idea what she ate that evening. All she could think of was the man sitting opposite, the man who was now her husband. Apart from one brief interlude in the library at her uncle’s house, this was the first time she had been alone with him. Once she would not have found that a displeasing prospect. Now it filled her with dread.
They were sharing a private dining room but, since the food required their attention, conversation was minimal. Elena’s appetite had fled but she forced herself to eat, taking her time, trying not to think about what must inevitably come. Several times she shot a glance at her companion but his face gave nothing away. Nor did his appetite seem in any way diminished by recent events. She watched him put away a bowl of soup and a manchet of bread, a generous portion of pastel de puerros and then follow it up with patatas bravas and a bistec that must have come from the largest steer in all of Spain. Moreover, he ate it with ease. How could he be so calm when her stomach was in knots? She took another drink of wine to steady herself. She noticed that he drank sparingly, consuming only two glasses of wine over the entire meal. He intended to keep a clear head, then. That thought was no more reassuring than the rest. Unable to bear her own thoughts she grasped at distraction.
‘I take it we shall resume our journey tomorrow.’ She was surprised to discover how steady her voice sounded.
‘Yes.