Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 8

Eight

T he brilliant morning sun glinted off the fresh blanket of snow as Bradford loaded the last of their luggage into the carriage. He turned to see Skye silhouetted in the doorway of the Rosewood Inn, her cloak wrapped tightly against the chill.

“I shall miss this place,” she said wistfully, gazing back at the cozy interior.

Bradford stepped toward her, taking her gloved hand in his. “As will I, my dear. But our next adventure awaits.”

Skye gifted him a radiant smile that made his heart skip. How he loved making her happy.

After bidding a warm farewell to the kindly innkeeper, they settled into the plush carriage interior. As the horses began their steady trot down the snow-lined road, Skye snuggled against Bradford, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Just imagine, my love,” she said dreamily as she watched the winter landscape roll by. “We shall soon be husband and wife.”

Bradford pressed a kiss to her forehead, breathing in her floral scent. “I can hardly wait to make you my bride. But I intend to savor every moment of this journey with you.”

Skye sighed contentedly. “As do I, my darling. As do I.”

The carriage rumbled on through the frosted countryside, the newly betrothed couple reveling in their closeness. Both were filled with joy for the future that lay ahead, but also with gratitude for this magical time together. For now, they had eyes only for each other, and for the beauty of a world made new by snow.

They travelled hard, spending their time together talking and planning for the future as well as sharing passionate kisses and caresses. All the while, the carriage rolled through the snow-covered countryside, bringing them ever closer to their destination. When at last the village of Gretna Green came into view, Skye pressed her face against the window, eyes alight.

“Oh Bradford, look!” she exclaimed. “It’s simply enchanting.”

Bradford gazed out at the quaint village nestled amongst the rolling hills. Wisps of smoke curled from stone chimneys, lending an inviting feel to the buildings. Fresh snow glittered under the winter sun.

“It certainly has its charms,” he agreed, squeezing her hand.

The carriage rumbled down the main thoroughfare, passing shops and inns decorated with holly wreaths for the season. Villagers bundled in woolens nodded warm greetings. The atmosphere was one of warmth and welcome.

When they pulled up before the Black Horse Inn, Bradford handed Skye down from the carriage, then turned to take in the view. Beyond the village, the rugged Scottish landscape stretched as far as the eye could see.

“What do you think, my dear?” Bradford asked, slipping an arm around her waist.

“It’s absolutely perfect,” she breathed. She turned sparkling eyes up to his. “I can not think of a more perfect place for our wedding.”

Bradford brushed his lips against her temple. “Neither can I, my love.”

Arm in arm, they entered the cozy inn, ready to begin this next chapter of their adventure together.

Skye awoke on Christmas morning to find the quaint room at the Black Horse Inn bathed in the soft glow of dawn. Stretching beneath the down comforter, she smiled, remembering where she was. Today was the day she would become Mrs. Bradford Seymore, Marchioness Greenwich.

The man in question was still sleeping soundly beside her, one arm draped casually over her waist. Skye took a moment to admire Bradford’s handsome features relaxed in slumber. Her heart swelled with love for this complex man who had completely stolen it.

Unable to resist, she leaned over and placed a line of feather-light kisses along his jaw. He stirred, a slow smile spreading across his face before his eyes even opened.

“Good morning, my darling,” he murmured, pulling her closer. “How did you sleep?”

“Wonderfully,” she sighed, snuggling into the warmth of his embrace. Outside, fat snowflakes drifted past the frosted windowpanes. “And it’s snowing again! It will be a perfect Christmas wedding.”

Bradford chuckled, the sound rumbling pleasantly beneath her cheek. “As long as I am marrying you, my love, it could be raining fire and brimstone and it would still be perfect.”

Skye lifted her head to meet his adoring gaze, then brought her lips to his in a long, lingering kiss. When they finally broke apart, she whispered, “I cannot wait to be your wife.”

He stroked her hair tenderly. “The feeling is entirely mutual. Now come, let us begin this glorious day!”

Hand in hand, they readied themselves to explore the charms of Gretna Green before their intimate Christmas ceremony. Skye’s heart overflowed with joy and anticipation. This was a day she would cherish for the rest of her life.

Once outside, she took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp winter air as she and Bradford strolled arm-in-arm down the quaint village lanes of Gretna Green. Everywhere she looked, the holiday spirit was on full display. Wreaths with big red bows adorned each door, while strings of holly and evergreen garlands wrapped around lampposts and storefronts.

“Oh Bradford, isn’t it magical?” Skye sighed, squeezing his arm a little tighter.

“It certainly is, darling,” he replied, patting her hand affectionately as they walked. “But not nearly as magical as you.”

Hand in hand, they continued their stroll through the village, stopping frequently for stolen kisses and tender embraces.

She let out a delighted gasp as they turned a corner. Before them stood the famous Blacksmith’s Shop, where they would soon exchange their vows. Seeing the historic building blanketed in snow, smoke swirling from its chimney filled her heart with joy.

As they drew nearer, Bradford suddenly swept her up into his arms. She let out a surprised laugh as he carried her across the threshold.

“I thought I’d practice for later,” he said with a roguish wink, before capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Bradford set her down gently. Together they stepped further into the building, taking in the rustic charm of the space. The blacksmith’s forge remained at the center of the room, smoke still rising from the coals.

“Lord Greenwich, welcome. ‘Tis a right honor to marry ye and this enchanting young lady,” the blacksmith said, moving to stand behind the anvil. “I have my wife and daughter here to bear witness.”

Bradford took Skye’s hand in his, his eyes shining with adoration. “Thank you, sir. We are honored to be married in such a lovely place.”

The blacksmith smiled broadly and gestured to a small table draped in a crisp white cloth. “If ye will just sign the register, we can begin.”

Bradford took the quill and carefully signed his name, then handed the quill to Skye and smiled as she signed hers. The blacksmith nodded in approval before waving them over to stand before the anvil.

With the warmth of the coals heating the space, Bradford took Skye’s hands in his. Looking deeply into her eyes, he recited his vows, his voice confident and unwavering. Skye felt tears of joy brimming in her eyes as she vowed to love and cherish him forevermore.

As the ceremony drew to a close and the blacksmith pronounced them man and wife, Bradford lifted Skye up into his arms, twirling her around. The two newlyweds shared a laugh, basking in the glow of their love.

When they exited the blacksmith’s shop, cheers and applause from the villagers of Gretna Green greeted them. They shared a kiss beneath the falling snowflakes, feeling the warmth of their love bubbling up within them.

The journey back to Yorkshire was one of both elation and longing for the newlyweds. Though sad to bid farewell to idyllic Gretna Green and the private journey they had been on, Bradford and Skye’s hearts swelled with joy for the life they would build together.

As the carriage rumbled down the snowy road, Bradford pulled Skye into his arms. She melted against him, sighing contentedly as he trailed kisses along her neck.

“My beautiful wife,” he murmured against her skin. Skye’s pulse quickened at the desire in his voice.

Their kisses grew more heated, hands roaming eagerly across each other’s bodies. His expert touch soon had her gasping in pleasure.

“I cannot wait a moment longer,” he rasped. In response, she captured his lips hungrily.

Passion ignited between them as the carriage swayed, the frozen landscape racing past the fogged window. They came together again and again, reveling in newlywed bliss.

He pulled her close and claiming her lips in a passionate kiss. Their tongues danced, teasing and tasting each other.

“Bradford,” she whispered breathlessly, pressing herself against his hardened form.

“I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,” he murmured back, sliding his hand around her waist. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her ear, trailing kisses down her neck. She shivered with delight.

Skye tugged at the ribbon that held his cravat, freeing him from the confines. He groaned as her soft hands ran over his bare chest, mapping out every ridge and valley.

“Make love to me, Skye,” he breathed, his voice low and rough.

She unbuckled his breeches and slipped them down, her eyes trailing up to meet his again. A slow, sensual dance began—lips and fingertips, breaths and gasps. They fell back against the carriage seat, their bodies entwined, exploring each other’s souls through touch. Their chemistry was undeniable; the air filled with the scent of lust and longing.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” she whispered as she lowered herself onto him, her body welcoming him with a passion that took his breath away.

Together, they moved as one, lost in a world of desire and hunger, mirroring each other’s every moan and thrust. And in that moment, they knew that this was where they belonged; with each other, in this snowy Christmas wonderland of love.

When at last they were sated, she rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He stroked her hair softly.

“I love you, Skye,” he said simply.

She smiled against his skin, her eyes sparkling with love and happiness. “I know you do,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I love you too.”

By the time Yorkshire came into view, both were thoroughly sated, snuggled in a tangle of blankets, the warming bricks at their feet having lost most of their heat. Skye smoothed her mussed hair while Bradford straightened his cravat, exchanging knowing smiles.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of Bradford’s estate, where a crowd awaited them. Beaming faces and cheerful shouts greeted the couple as they stepped out.

“Welcome home!” cried Bradford’s mother, embracing them tearfully. His father clapped him on the back while his sister and friends surrounded them. Skye’s parents and dearest friend hugged her joyfully before turning to greet him.

Surrounded by those they held dear, Bradford and Skye exchanged a loving glance. The future shone brightly before them, full of promise.

Bradford’s sister, Natalie, ushered them inside. “You must come and tell us everything.”

Skye’s cheeks flushed pink as all eyes turned to her expectantly. “Oh, where to even begin!” she exclaimed, thinking back on their whirlwind adventure.

“I suppose it started when we got snowed in at the Rosewood Inn,” she said, launching into the tale. “The blizzard came on so suddenly and raged so fiercely that we were trapped at the inn for over a sennight.”

Bradford chimed in, “We tried to make the best of it, of course. Long walks around the grounds, chess by the fire...” He trailed off suggestively, eliciting giggles and blushes from the women as the men gave knowing glances.

“It was all quite romantic,” Skye continued. “And once the storm finally passed, we were so eager to make our way to Scotland. The journey was breathtaking—snow-covered fields stretching as far as the eye could see.”

“Arriving in Gretna Green was like stepping into a fairy tale,” Bradford added, his eyes meeting Skye’s. “The quaint shops and cottages, all decorated for Christmas...it was magical.”

Skye’s voice took on a dreamy quality. “Our wedding was utter perfection. Just the two of us, exchanging vows in that dear little blacksmith’s shop.” Sighing happily, she described the intimate ceremony, the cheering villagers, the cozy wedding feast after.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than in that moment, when Bradford and I were finally declared man and wife,” she finished, grasping her new husband’s hand.

Murmurs of “How romantic!” and “What a beautiful story!” rang out amongst their loved ones. Bradford drew Skye close, pressing a soft kiss to her hair.

“Christmas in Scotland gave us the greatest gift of all,” he said warmly, “a joyous new beginning together.” Skye’s eyes shimmered with happy tears, her heart full to bursting.

Bradford smiled tenderly at his new bride, then raised his glass.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” he announced, his voice ringing out clearly. The chatter died down as all eyes turned expectantly to the newlyweds.

“First, to my darling Skye.” His gaze was full of love as he looked at her. “For your wisdom, your spirit, and most of all, your open heart. You’ve made me the happiest of men.”

She blushed prettily as applause and cheers erupted. Bradford continued once it had quieted again.

“To our family and friends, for your unending love and support on this journey.” Nods and murmurs of “hear, hear,” followed.

“And finally, to this magical season. For bringing us together in the most wonderful way and setting us on a path of hope, joy and new beginnings.”

Bradford lifted his glass higher. “To love, laughter, and the magic of Christmas!”

“Here, here!” the room chorused, raising their glasses. The crystal rang out in a melodious toast as they drank.

Skye and Bradford’s eyes met, alight with promise. No matter what the future held, they knew they would face it together—with open hearts and the blessings of this most special Christmas to guide them.