by Tess Oliver
“Put down your weapons,” Peter said through gritted teeth. Reluctantly, the three men put their guns on the ground.
Angel looked at Jane. Her face was pale but a corner of her lip turned up with relief.
“Are you all right, my love?”
“I am now,” she said.
Peter twisted his face and sneered up at him. “How do you think you’ll get out of this Van Ostrand?”
“Truthfully, I haven’t given it much thought yet, but I do have part of a plan.” Angel reached down and grabbed Peter’s collar and dragged him toward the altar, keeping the pistol to his head. He motioned with his head to the other men. “Move over there where I can see you and leave your weapons on the floor.”
They hesitated and seemed to be waiting for Peter’s command. Angel tightened his hold on the collar and Peter gasped for air. He shoved the barrel of the pistol hard into his temple. “Your dogs are waiting for your orders.”
“Do as he says,” Peter yelled.
The men moved slowly to the side of the chapel where Angel could see their every move. He smiled over at Jane. She’d dropped the hood from her head and even in distress she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “It may not be the wedding you’ve dreamed of . . .” Angel chuckled, “but it’s the best I can offer under the circumstances.”
Jane smiled at him and then turned to the reverend. “Please begin the ceremony. My groom has arrived.”
Peter squirmed in his grasp. Angel jerked him hard once and the movement caused him too much pain. “You whoreson, I will kill you for this,” he snarled between gasps.
Angel shook him again. “Quiet, can’t you see there’s a wedding going on.”
The reverend, who was obviously quite inebriated, slurred through the ceremony. Angel easily managed to ignore the fact that he was holding his gun to a man’s head. He was standing next to the woman who owned him body and soul. She had bewitched him thoroughly. There was no one for him if he did not have Jane. Still clutching the writhing man by his collar, Angel leaned over to kiss his wife.
“I promise a much more fulfilling wedding night,” he said quietly.
One of the three reluctant witnesses spoke up. “Congratulations, mate, and if it’s all the same to you, we would like to retrieve our weapons and leave. We have no more business here.”
Angel held fast to Peter. “Go ahead.”
“What are you doing?” Peter cried. His breathing was shallow and the pallor of his face had yellowed.
One of the men looked up nonchalantly. “You promised us some of her fortune. I’m guessing that won’t be happening now that she’s married to another.” He nodded to Angel. “It looks like the better man won.” They left without another word.
Angel glanced down at the puddle of blood beneath Peter and released him. “You might want to see a doctor about that wound.” He tossed a pound note up to the reverend. “A little something to pay for the mess.”
Angel grabbed Jane’s hand and pulled her through the chapel to the copse of trees where Titus stood waiting. He could wait no longer. His arms reached around her and he pulled her against him. She hopped up on tiptoes and kissed him.
“You realize we’ll have to do this again,” she said. “Ellie will not forgive us if we get married without her as witness.”
“I suppose you’re right.” He kissed her long and hard. A cool winter mist swirled around them but heat flowed between their bodies. He lifted his mouth and smiled down at her. “Of course that means we will have two wedding nights as well.”
She pressed herself against him and his arms tightened around her. “If we must.”
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