A Convenient Bride by Cheryl Ann Smith

silence until they reached the border. After crossing into Gretna Green, Richard left Brenna with the horses and inquired around the village after Anne and Lockley. He received no helpful information. Couples frequently came and left without leaving a mark. There was nothing that would stand out about his missing sister.
    “Isn’t it good that no one remembers her?” Brenna asked, when he returned with the news. “Perhaps she had a change of heart and is now awaiting your return to Beckwith Hall.”
    Richard rubbed his temples. “Then where is Andrew? He was to leave me word once he arrived here. Instead, he has vanished, too. I worry that he has come to harm.”
    “Is it possible he has found information about Anne to lead him in another direction?”
    Staring off across the village, Richard sighed. “This trip has proven fruitless. Wherever Anne is, unless she has reclaimed her senses, I am too late to save her.”
    “Then we shall hope good sense has won out over the charms of a wicked man.” Brenna forced a positive tone. “If she is as intelligent as you say, she will reach the correct conclusion about Lockley.”
    “I can only hope.”
    Richard collected the horses. He tugged their reins, and they followed him like well-trained dogs. “Come, we have an appointment.”
    Puzzled, Brenna hurried to keep up with his brisk strides. They came to a blacksmith’s shop, and Richard tied the horses to a post. When they entered the building, a rough-looking man was wiping his dirty hands on a cloth, and a woman of middle years stood nearby, next to a young woman in braids. The older woman came over and took Brenna’s hand. Her grip was strong, and her eyes were kind.
    “Why, ye are lovely, lass,” she said, with a smile. “I can see why yer man is so eager ta wed ye.”
    Wed? Brenna turned to Richard. He was speaking to the blacksmith, his back to her. There was nothing in his treatment of her, since rising this morning, to indicate he planned to wed her. Had the woman misread the situation?
    Her confusion notched up. Was his sour mood related to the panic some men experienced on their wedding day?
    A renewed flush of hope filled her, and the glum day brightened. He wanted to marry her! He
did
care!
    “Bring the flowers, Cliona,” the woman said to the girl, and Cliona hurried over with a small bouquet of fresh-cut flowers. “Now let us get ye married.”
    Brenna accepted the bouquet, lifted it to her nose, andgazed over at Richard. He was a bit dusty and his hair was mussed, but in minutes he’d be her husband; every exasperating, irritating, frustrating, and devastatingly handsome part of him.
    And she could not wait.
    A blacksmith joining them together for eternity was certainly not the wedding she’d dreamed of. Still, she was marrying her viscount, and she was nearly giddy with anticipation.
    When the ceremony commenced, Brenna said her vows in a wavering voice and stood silent as he said his. She accepted the brush of his mouth and signed the registry after. Richard declined the offer of tea and hurried Brenna out of the shop.
    “Richard, wait.” She had so many questions, so much to say to him. But he was off again, his brisk strides forcing her to trot to keep hold of his arm.
    He did not stop. Instead, he said tersely, “We will eat and return to England. I have arranged for a coach to take us back to London.”
    All her girlish dreams of her happily ever after formed a hard lump in her heart. He hadn’t softened toward her one whit.
    The coldness in him followed them through a simple meal at an inn and as he secured their horses to the awaiting coach and helped her inside. Brenna shivered as she settled across from him on the bench seat, his eyes icy as they turned from her to stare out the window.
    It was then that she shook off the fog of harsh reality and disappointment. With the clearing of her mind, heat prickled up her spine. She wasn’t about to be cast aside, as if she were some doxy