Puck and Prejudice

Chapter Fifteen

Gretna Green. They had arrived.

Lizzy stepped out of the stagecoach and paused. For a moment, she half expected to wake up and discover that the events of

the past few days had been nothing more than a vivid dream. However, as her feet touched solid ground and she felt Tuck’s

hand in hers, it confirmed the reality of the situation.

“Thank you,” she murmured, quickly shaking herself loose and lifting her dress hem from the muddy road.

“I’ve never been to Scotland.” Tuck lifted their bags, ready to take them to their final destination, the Jigging Stallion.

“I kind of expected more kilts.”

“We are only two miles over the border.” She glanced around. Everyone seemed more or less to look like people in England.

“Does that fact disappoint you?” she asked, following him into the inn.

“My mom’s maiden name was McLaughlin—Scottish, obviously. At Christmas, she covers the house with tartan—no surface is free

of it.”

“Are you close to your mother? You don’t speak of her.” Lizzy couldn’t help but wonder about Tuck’s family. It seemed so strange for him to have a father, mother, and sister somewhere out there, lost in time. A pang of unexpected sadness hit her as she realized she’d never meet them, never see where he came from, never understand what he meant by his mother covering the house in tartan.

“We talk on rare occasions—like her birthday or a holiday.” Tuck’s jaw tightened, his words measured. “Not as much as she’d

like, but...”

When he fell silent, she gently nudged him with her elbow. “But?”

“But nothing. I’m busy.” There was a hardness in his tone that made it clear additional questions would not be welcome.

Once they settled into their room, Lizzy’s mind raced. Tomorrow they would be wed.

“The river seemed pleasant,” she said. “I’d very much enjoy a walk and some fresh air, if you don’t mind.”

He nodded, seemingly as desperate to escape the confined room as she was.

Outside, the streets of Gretna Green were quiet, nothing like the illicit stories Lizzy had overhead whispered about the corners

of drawing rooms or at balls. Tales of young lovers racing to the border, outraged fathers in pursuit, horses foaming at the

mouth, eyes rolling, as they were pushed past their endurance.

Women walked laden with baskets for shopping, and a few children raced past brandishing a paper boat, seemingly intent to

drop it into the creek. The buildings were painted white, and low hills were covered in lush grass. It felt more like the

sort of place one would go to rest than to give themselves over to forbidden passion.

“Why exactly is this a place for eloping?” Tuck asked, echoing her thoughts. “In my time, we have a city known for fast wed dings. It’s called Las Vegas. I guess I was expecting more of that sort of energy.”

“Las Vegas?” She frowned. “Oh, that’s Spanish for... let me see. The meadows! How lovely. It must be very green like this.”

He gaped at her. “You speak Spanish?”

“Badly. My French is passable. My Spanish is worse. My German is abominable. But I’ve tried to study when I have the time

and find the books. One of my dreams is to travel. This is the first time I’ve ever been outside of England, so you are helping

me realize this.”

“You are full of surprises, but also no, Las Vegas is no meadow. It’s a desert. People come from all over the world to gamble

there, and you can get married in a drive-through.” He didn’t even wait for her to ask. “It would be similar to you pulling

up in a carriage to be wed.”

“It sounds very convenient.”

He shrugged. “I guess it saves time.”

“Are you very rushed?” she asked.

“In my time? Ha! There is no time. Everything happens quickly and people are always searching for the fastest ways to do most

things.”

Lizzy turned to the creek and watched two ducks float past. “That sounds exhausting.”

“I didn’t realize how tired I was until I stopped. Days here feel much longer.” A distant look crept into his eyes and a silence

grew before he finally glanced over. “Off topic, but I’ve wondered—why do blacksmiths marry people here?”

“I don’t know all the rules and laws, but at some point, England changed the laws so that people under the age of twenty-one couldn’t marry without parental consent. There isn’t a similar law in Scotland, so young lovers flee here to be handfasted. In this country, you are considered married if you declare it so in front of a witness. And apparently the clever blacksmiths around here saw an opportunity to make some extra coin by serving as the official witness. It doesn’t have to be a blacksmith, though. It could be a fisherman, or even a horse saddler.”

He mulled it over. “A fisherman could give you a bass for the wedding dinner after.”

“So practical.”

“But smelly.”

A huff of laughter escaped her. “To be sure.”

A piercing cry shattered the peace, followed by a sickening splash that sent ripples across the water. Screams erupted from

the riverbank, a chorus of terrified children. Lizzy’s heart leapt to her throat as she saw a boy thrashing in the water,

eyes wide in panic. The current’s hungry grasp pulled the small figure toward the shadow of the bridge, threatening to swallow

him in darkness.

Lizzy’s gaze darted to her skirts; blast it, they were too heavy and would weigh her down, but she had to act. As she lurched

toward the water’s edge, a strong hand clamped gently on her arm.

“Watch the others.” Tuck’s voice was raw with urgency. “Don’t let anyone else tumble in.” His gaze locked with hers, concern

mixed with determination. “And, listen, if something happens to me and I disappear...” His lips pressed to the place where

her mouth met her cheek, warm and fast; scruff seared her skin.

Then he was sprinting with purpose, throwing his jacket and kicking off his boots before diving into the churning waters.

The current moved swiftly, and it took him only a few strokes to reach the boy, who was about to go under.

Lizzy felt her body go limp with relief. Tuck knew how to swim, thank God.

He locked the child under one big arm as he made his way back to the shallows, hauling him up onto the bank. “Grab him!”

Lizzy reached down and seized the sodden, crying child as his friends pressed in.

“Jamie! You all right, Jamie?”

Jamie coughed out river water and gagged, but a red flush returned to his freckled cheeks.

“Och, you are going to be in for it when Maw hears you got too close to the water,” said a girl whose red curls were identical

to Jamie’s—more likely than not a sister.

Tucker climbed out. “Is he all right?”

“He will be, thanks to you.” She reached out and touched his chest. “You’re breathing hard.”

“I was scared,” he said simply. “Why the hell do kids in trouble keep crossing my path?”

She frowned, not understanding his cryptic comment.

“Never mind, I’m rambling.” He turned to the cluster of kids with a stern glare. “You. All of you. Unless you learn how to

swim, you have no business playing near the river, got it?”

The kids all stared, eyes like dinner saucers, before scampering away.

“You were a hero,” she said, watching them flee. “Things could have gone much worse for our young friend Jamie if you hadn’t

been here.” She tugged at his clothing. “But we need to get you dried off before you catch a cold.”

When they returned to the inn, Lizzy draped his sodden clothing across the furniture to dry. She avoided even a peek at Tuck changing with quick efficiency in the corner until he was standing beside her, clad in nothing but breeches and an untucked white shirt open at the neck.

His expression was stricken. “My phone—you know, the device with which I could take photos—it’s gone. It must have fallen

out of my pocket in the water.”

“Shall we go back and look for it?”

He shook his head. “Nah. It’s the river’s now. And the battery—never mind. It’s just that it...”

“It was a connection to your life.”

“Yeah. It’s funny. I never took many pictures. My sister sent me a lot of them, though. Things about her day. What she had

for breakfast or was reading. A museum. Even a tree she thought was pretty. I barely looked, at the time. But now I miss them.”

“Because you miss her.”

The casual dress, his bare feet. It unlocked her reserve somehow. Made it feel permitted to ask the questions that had been

swirling in her mind since the river. “Before you dove in,” she said quietly. “You said in case you ‘disappear.’ At first,

I thought maybe you couldn’t swim. But that wasn’t the case.”

“Right.” He hooked a hand on the back of his neck, a faraway expression settling on his features. “The night I disappeared?

There’d been a little boy and a dog. I... I was driving a car—the point is, the road was icy. They ran in front of me and

I didn’t want to hit them, so I swerved. I went off the road and ended up flipped over in the pond and getting trapped in

the water. The ice blocked my exit when I tried to swim up. Then the world started to churn and everything went black. When

I entered the river, I wasn’t sure if I’d—”

“If you’d return to your time,” she said, finishing his sentence.

“Yeah.” He walked to the window and drew a small crown in the dust on the glass. “Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind.”

“D-did you want to go back?”

He was silent for a moment. “Not like that.” His voice was low, determined. “No.”

“How come?”

“Goddamnit, Lizzy.” His rueful laugh seemed to ease the remaining tension from his body. “I think you know.”

“Your heroic actions led you to me.” She took a step forward, then another, until she was so close that if she put out a hand,

she’d be touching him. Her lungs burned as she struggled to draw in a full breath. “But you don’t want to remain here forever.”

“I can’t.” He reached out then, cradling her face, his fingers bracketing her cheek while his thumb settled just beneath her

chin. Goose bumps broke out down the backs of her arms. She leaned into his palm, savoring his wide-eyed gaze that searched

her face for unspoken truths. “But I also can’t leave without...”

They were close, dangerously close. The rise and fall of his chest mirrored her own. Could he hear her pounding heart? “Without

what?”

“This.” His lips crashed against hers, hunger fueling the slant of his mouth. As his arms wrapped around her, pulling her

flush against the hard planes of his body, she gripped the silky strands of his short hair, anchoring herself as the world

fell away.

It wasn’t until her back bumped against the wall that she realized in some vague part of her brain that they had been walking

backward. Now there was no room to do anything but give herself over to this push and pull, give and take. Raw need passed

from his lips to hers, leaving her aching.

“Am I doing it right?” she murmured into his mouth.

“You’re perfect.” He pulled back, and his breath ghosted across her cheek. “Would you like more?”

“Yes. Teach me.”

“That’s a good girl.” This time, he opened his mouth, coaxing her to do the same; she responded and, with slow, almost aching deliberation, he stroked his tongue against hers.

She arched in surprise at the sensation, her back bowing as their tongues began to explore against each other, slowly, curiously,

before becoming insatiable.

A guttural sound escaped him and it awoke something slumbering deep within her. Teeth knocked together and she pulled back

not to end it but, as if in some strange trance, to put her mouth all over him. She kissed along the edge of his jaw, so hard

and a little prickly in contrast to his lips, and then forged a path to his ear. When she sucked on the edge of his lobe,

he groaned again, not in the back of his throat this time, but loud. She inhaled his deep, complex scent.

“Is this nice?” She’d never known that it was possible to shiver from warmth. “Do you really like when I do that?”

“Jesus, Lizzy.” His chuckle was nothing more than a husky rasp. “You sure you haven’t done any of this before?” He grazed

her lips once more, as if committing her mouth to memory, and then took a deliberate step back, putting space between them.

“Enough now. That’s enough.”

Was he talking to her? To himself? To both of them?

Her body screamed no—this wasn’t nearly enough—but she knew what he meant. Through the haze of desire, a flicker of reason

remained. To surrender to these flames was to risk everything for a blaze from which neither would emerge unscathed.

“Yes, enough,” she agreed, trying her very best to act as if she meant it. “Thank you for that.”

He turned his head, surprise flashing on his features. “For nearly taking you against the wall?”

The blood drained from her head, the room’s edges blurring into shadows as the implications sank in. Was that where their mad dance was leading them? Weakened, she sank onto the bed, a heavy sense of fatigue dragging at her bones.

“I meant thank you for ensuring my first kiss didn’t happen in front of the blacksmith.”

“Anytime.” Tuck grunted, then grabbed his still-wet jacket and boots and crossed the room in three steps. “I’m going to get

a drink. Tonight, I want to sleep.”

Because tomorrow they were getting married. Because even if the ceremony wasn’t genuine, it was going to be real. And he clearly

didn’t want to think of that or any future consequences. He’d rather run away and blot it out.

She nodded, forcing any small bubble of hurt to stay deep within. They were both trapped by their circumstances. A few stolen

kisses didn’t mean anything; it was merely instructive. She’d been curious how a kiss would feel, and now she knew. This was

a good thing.

Tuck left the room, the door quietly snicking shut behind him. She fell back on the lumpy mattress and pressed the heels of

her palms into her eyes.

When had he started shifting from Mr.Taylor to Tuck in her thoughts?

And how had those kisses felt like coming home, except it was a new house where you want to explore every room, not simply

remain in the foyer?

She let out a soft huff of frustration.

This marriage of convenience was turning out far more complicated than expected.