precluded any opportunity for speech. Once or twice Elena glanced Harry’s way but he continued to look resolutely ahead of him, his expression like stone. Shocked beyond measure by her uncle’s decision and appalled by the consequences of her actions, she found coherent thought almost impossible. All she could see just then was looming disaster. Once she had eagerly anticipated marriage and all that it entailed. Of course, back then, the agreement would have been entered into by mutual consent and in all honour; now she was soiled goods to be offloaded because it suited her uncle’s purpose. One way or another he meant to be rid of her. Her wishes didn’t enter into it, or those of her intended bridegroom.
As she thought about Harry her stomach churned. How disgusted and angry he must be at this moment. He hadn’t wanted any part of her scheme but had been too gentlemanly to abandon her. By heaven, he must be wishing he had though. And when the knot was tied and she was completely in his power, what revenge might he take then? The memory of Badajoz returned with leering drunken faces and men obscenely unbuttoned, hands tearing her clothing, holding her down while they did their will…. She shuddered. Was it all about to happen again? From her limited experience of him, Harry did not seem to be the brutal type but, even so, as her husband he would expect his will to be met. Elena swallowed hard.
In an alarmingly short time the cavalcade arrived at the town and pulled up in the plaza in front of the church. Half a dozen men detained Jack and Concha; the remainder hustled Elena and Harry inside. Hearing the intrusion a startled priest paused by the altar.
‘Mass is not for another hour.’
Don Manuel fixed him with a steely gaze. ‘We are not here for the mass, but to see these two married.’
‘That is not possible. Perhaps tomorrow …’
A fat leather purse landed on the floor at his feet, the jingle of coin seeming loud in the still air.
‘Marry them,’ said Don Manuel.
The priest hesitated and licked dry lips. Then he nodded. ‘As you wish.’
Elena’s heart thumped against her ribs and she closed her eyes, willing that she might wake up. White-faced, she glanced at the man beside her. This time he saw it and returned her gaze. His face was impassive but the expression in the grey eyes was unmistakable. Good heavens, he was furious. How he must despise her now. She shivered inwardly. Mingled with dread was a deep sadness that she had forfeited whatever small regard he might once have had for her. At that moment she would almost have preferred to be in a convent cell.
At the priest’s command they knelt. Harry was scarcely aware of the droning voice, only of roiling emotion. Elena had correctly read the fury uppermost in his mind but she had entirely mistaken its direction. For a moment or two he indulged a savage fantasy involving a dull blade and Don Manuel’s vital organs. Underlying that were very different feelings.
He threw a covert glance at the woman beside him. He hadn’t missed the expression of abject terror in her eyes just now; by rights she should have fallen into a fit of hysterics. Most women would have done so long since. But then Elena wasn’t most women. She’d had the courage to face her uncle’s wrath and to take responsibility for her actions, to exonerate everyone else. But for that determined intervention he and Jack would almost certainly be swinging from a tree by now. She had been subjected to public insult and humiliation into the bargain, another bone he’d 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.
