After speaking at length with a different group of peasants, Will returned, his expression unreadable—except for the ever-present tension and determination. He spoke again to Thad in low tones before looking up at her. “My lady.” In the flickering glow from the flames, she could see that his gaze was somber and yet resigned.
“Are we ready to be on our way?”
He shook his head and reached for her, his hands spanning her waist, gentle and strong at the same time. “We are to be wed now.”
“You’re joking.” The words came out louder than she intended.
He situated her on the ground.
“I thought we were pretending.” She stepped away from his steadying hold but bumped into the horse. “I didn’t think you were serious about going through with the charade.”
With one long step forward, he ate up the space between them, so that she found herself boxed in by his towering frame on one side and warm horseflesh on the other. “I see no reason to deny them what they want.”
“I do.” She almost shouted, but at the warning mirrored in his dark eyes, she swallowed her frustration and forced herself to think rationally and speak calmly. She must have misunderstood him. He couldn’t possibly think they should get married. It was too preposterous to even consider. “We can’t get married.”
“We can and shall.” His statement was confident as though the decision was a foregone conclusion. “Since you are on your own and cannot return to your kin or St. Sepulchre’s, I shall avail you with my protection. As my wife.”
Speechless, she stared up at his darkly handsome face, the thin scar above his eyebrow lending him a formidable aura. Since she’d hinted she was running away from a bad betrothal, she couldn’t contradict herself now. Besides, she had no money, nowhere to go, and no one else she could turn to. This strange suggestion of marriage might be her only means of survival. If she turned him down and walked away, she had no idea how she’d make it through the night. In fact, with these bands of peasants roaming the countryside carrying a vendetta against the nobility and clergy, she dreaded to think what might happen if she ventured out on her own. As much as she wanted to hang on to her independence, she felt trapped.
Will lifted a hand to her face and combed back a strand of her hair, surprising her with his gentleness. “I shall not force you into a union.”
His fingertips were coarse against her temple, but his touch was infinitely soft. “We’re strangers.”
“No more or less than any other woman I might consider taking as my wife.”
They truly were from different worlds. This was an era when love and romance weren’t always considered important in making marriage matches.
“I don’t understand.” She fumbled for a response. “Why would you want to marry me? What benefit do you receive?”
He dropped his attention to his boots as though to hide his embarrassment. “It is past time for me to take another wife.”
“Why not some other lady? Surely you can find someone more suitable.”
“There are others.”
She suspected his other prospects had to do with dowries and land and how each family could benefit from the marriage. She had nothing to offer him. And besides, she was going home just as soon as she could manage it. “You must choose someone else.”
His gaze shot up and met hers. The connection was instantaneous and powerful, one that never failed to magnetically pull her in. “I would have you.” His voice was low, and something in it blazed a trail through her belly.
“Why me?” Did he remember her from the visions? Did he recognize her and feel as though they already had a bond too? She drew in a breath and waited for his answer.
She expected some kind of explanation, some statement of her attributes, or at the very least that he had no reason. But he said nothing. Instead, his hand snaked to her back at the same time that he swooped down. His mouth caught hers. Not gently or sweetly or carefully. No, his lips were sure and strong and commanding, sweeping her up and squeezing the air from her lungs.
The urging pressure of his mouth against hers seemed to awaken her to a deep and consuming hunger of her own. She found herself pressed tightly to him. Within seconds, she could think of nothing but her desire for this man, the desire to know more about him, spend time with him, and go on kissing him.
He broke away, abruptly releasing her and taking a step back. “That is why.”
Her breath came rushing back much too quickly. Her knees trembled, and she was glad for the long robe that hid her reaction.
“You cannot deny you feel likewise, lady.”
She couldn’t deny it even if she’d wanted to. Her lungs wouldn’t cooperate, and her mind was too scrambled with desire and confusion.
When he held out the crook of his arm toward her, she clasped her hands together. This was his proposal of marriage. If she denied it, she suspected he was too honorable to offer again. But how could she possibly accept? It was ludicrous to contemplate getting married after less than a week in the past when she’d lived for twenty-eight years in the present and had never considered it.
Now, here she was. Weak-kneed from a kiss with a man she barely knew. She couldn’t deny the chemistry. He’d made clear he’d felt it keenly too.
But physical attraction wasn’t enough of a basis for marriage.
“I vow to be a good husband to you, Marian.” He spoke sincerely, as though sensing her question. His eyes were filled with the same kindness she’d noticed before.
When she’d been beaten, he’d shown compassion toward her. His instructions to the prioress had kept her safe at the nunnery. He’d helped her escape from the convent when doing so had put him in great danger. He’d protected her from the peasants who’d attacked them. And he’d vowed to kill on her behalf.
From what she’d witnessed of him so far, she guessed he’d make some woman a good husband—a woman from the Middle Ages, not her.
Yet, what if marriage to this wealthy nobleman was an answer to her problems? Did she dare go through with so audacious a plan? She would not only have his protection, but she’d have his money and his resources. She could ride back to Canterbury whenever she wanted, visit the nunnery or the cathedral without sneaking around. Such trips would surely be within her rights as a nobleman’s wife.
What did she have to lose? After all, if she had her way, she’d find holy water as soon as tomorrow and be gone within a day or two. At the very least the marriage would get them out of their current predicament without putting them into more danger.
The thoughts whizzed through her head in the span of a few seconds. Before she could talk herself out of marrying William Durham, she slipped her hand into the curve of his arm.
He didn’t move except to glance at her fingers tucked there before looking back at her face. “You are certain, lady?”
She swallowed the rational protest that threatened to choke her and lifted her chin. “Shall we?”
* * *
Kneeling beside Marian in the grassy field, Will could feel her fingers tremble against his, betraying her uncertainty, although throughout the short ceremony, she’d remained outwardly composed.
John Ball, the priest, stood above them and was almost done reciting the last of the prayers that would officially unite them as man and wife.