All chattering ceased when Fabian entered the small stone church that had stood on the clifftop for centuries. His men had patched the holes in the roof, chased away the bats and rebuilt the dry-stone wall. Over the years, many people had stood at the altar and exchanged vows. No doubt few had used bribery and coercion to woo the bride.

A sudden pang of guilt hit him hard in the chest.

He was the worst of rogues. He knew that. But Lillian would have a better life with him than the one she presently had in London. No one wanted to be the subject of scandalous gossip. No lady should have to look to the gutter for a suitor. In that respect, Lillian needed saving almost as much as Estelle.

Fabian bit back a chuckle as he strode down the aisle. Huddled together in the box pews, the doors draped in pretty rose garlands, sat twenty or more of the toughest sailors ever to sail the seas.

Had this been St George’s in Hanover Square, the throng would smile and nod politely, not jeer, wink and offer wide toothless grins. Still, these loyal, hardworking men had helped him make his fortune, and Fabian would be forever in their debt.

“Bet girls in every port are weeping into their aprons today,” one of them muttered as Fabian walked past. “Who’d have thought to see his lordship wed?”

“Happen his betrothed is a siren. Who else can lure a sane man from a calm sea to a rocky shore?”

“Isn’t a siren half woman, half bird?”

“All the more reason why she’s marrying the Raven.”

Fabian paid them no heed as he stood before the reverend at the altar, his hands clasped behind his back. Sailors told tales and invented stories to relieve the monotony of spending endless months at sea. Besides, how could he offer a witty reply when his tongue felt thick and clumsy? How could he contradict them when he feared Lillian Sandford did possess a magical ability to make a man lose his mind?

The church door creaked open. Nancy Hill and the rest of the women slipped inside, offering whispered apologies as they shuffled into one of the box pews. Ursula smiled and raised a teasing brow. Thank the Lord he’d declined every offer she’d made to warm his bed. The woman had been persistent in her methods, but Fabian would never disrespect his position or his staff.

“I trust the bride is on her way, my lord?” The Reverend Sykes sneezed into his handkerchief and wiped his nose ten times despite the surrounding skin being red and raw. The fellow suffered from every ailment known to man. Gout in his toe made standing a painful affair. “Old buildings are a curse when one has a weak constitution.”

“Rest assured. The lady is here.” Well, he hoped she’d not persuaded Mackenzie to command a rowboat and ferry her back to the mainland.

A man in the crowd cleared his throat. They all shifted in their seats and craned their necks to gain the best view of the door.

The Reverend Sykes gestured for the congregation to stand but the men were so keen to glimpse the siren who’d bewitched their master, it took some time before they obliged.

Lillian hovered in the doorway. Due to her brother's absence, Mackenzie took his place at her side. She gripped his arm and pasted a smile. The pretty posy in her hand shook. Anyone would think she was about to walk the plank and plunge into shark-infested waters.

What did he expect? She agreed to marry him because he’d made it hard for her to say no. She agreed to marry him because no one else had asked her. From what little he’d seen, she had given up all hope of finding happiness.

As she walked towards him, his chest grew as tight as his throat.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Her beauty stole his breath … surely that was it. With her styled coiffure and simple yet elegant dress, she looked every bit a lady of the ton and not a naive girl who’d given away her greatest treasure on a whim.

Damn Vane.

Fabian mentally shook himself. Bitterness had no place in his heart—not today.

Lillian came to stand before him, and he smiled. Her bottom lip quivered as she forced a smile, too.

The need to ease her fears took hold, and he closed the gap between them and bent his head. “There’s no need to look so terrified. All will be well.”

“I only wish I could trust your word,” she said so he alone could hear.

The comment cut deep, but he deserved nothing less.

The reverend addressed the congregation, but Fabian placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “I swear you will not regret your decision.” And by God, he meant it.

Lillian remained silent. She focused on the reverend who, in his eagerness to leave the cold, wretched place, recited the relevant passage from the Bible. Numerous times during the ceremony her gaze fell to Fabian. Her cheeks flushed scarlet at the mention of joining and of satisfying carnal lusts. Fear flashed in her eyes when the reverend informed them that marriage was ordained for the procreation of children.

“Ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed,” the reverend preached.

Lillian touched the gold locket at her neck. Until now, it had not occurred to him to ask if she loved another, if she kept his likeness close to her heart. Why would it when love played no part in their bargain? Still, the thought created an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

No one made a sound when called to offer a reason why they should not be wed.

The reverend turned to him. “Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her in sickness and in health?”

Fabian stared into her eyes. The vows had a profound effect on him. A rush of heat flooded his body. “I will.” Heaven help him. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. His life flashed before his eyes, every deed, every trial and tribulation culminating into this life-changing moment.

But what did it mean?

“Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour…”

Lillian struggled to hold Fabian’s gaze.

A prolonged silence filled the stone building.

The whole congregation watched her intently. Mouths fell open. Heads hung forward as they waited for her reply.

Lillian looked at the posy in her hand and sighed. She glanced at Mackenzie who smiled and gave a reassuring nod.

The Reverend Sykes cleared his throat.

Fabian willed her to answer. During all his dangerous encounters at sea, he’d never felt a fear like the one gripping him now. Without Lillian at his side, he had no hope of gaining Vane’s help. But that was not the reason for his internal discomfort.

“I—I will.” A deep exhale followed her declaration.

Fabian’s shoulders relaxed. The collective sigh from those squashed into the pews mirrored his own sense of relief.

The rest of the ceremony passed by in a blur as Fabian struggled to address the odd feeling of contentment filling his chest. They held hands, and he wasn’t sure whose fingers trembled. They pledged their troth, knelt in prayer.

“Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder,” the reverend said before proceeding to announce them, “man and wife together.”

Together.

He’d been alone for so damn long, perhaps that was what unnerved him.

Soon they were outside, swamped by well-wishers cheering and shouting congratulations. The women stepped forward, grabbed a handful of petals from Nancy’s basket and threw them in the air.

Lillian clutched Fabian’s arm, and a sudden urge to protect her took hold.

Damnation. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The celebratory cries proved infectious. A chuckle burst from Lillian’s lips, the sound sweet, light-hearted, and then they were both smiling and laughing, both lost in a moment of pure bliss.

“Let me be the first to call you Lady Ravenscroft.” Mackenzie came before them and bowed his head. “Mrs Bell has prepared a feast to mark the occasion. It won’t be as grand as a wedding breakfast you’d have in London, mind, but it will be the best meal ever to grace our table.”

Fabian turned to her. “When he says it won’t be grand, he means we’ll be dining with the men. Although if you prefer privacy, I can arrange for us to dine in the drawing room or my chamber.” His mind chose that moment to imagine a feast of a different sort. One where her lips tasted of wild berries, and her skin tasted of milk and honey.

Lillian scanned the crowd and smiled. “No, I should like to hear their kind words and watch them drink a toast in our honour.”

Clearly, the lady had never witnessed the bawdy antics of drunken sailors. When the ale flowed freely, things invariably became boisterous. “I cannot promise they’ll mind their manners. These men do not live by the same rules of etiquette and decorum.”

“Have no fear.” Mackenzie puffed his chest. “I’ll banish them to the dungeons for a night if they dare speak out of turn. I shall see to it personally.”

“There are dungeons?” Lillian sounded surprised.

“Yes, though we’ve not had cause to use them — yet,” Fabian teased. “I shall give you a tour of the castle this evening as long as you promise not to chain me up and leave me to rot.”

“No doubt I would return in the morning to find you had escaped. If there is one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re resourceful.”

The compliment touched him. It had taken years to come to terms with losing Prescott Hall. Quick wit and ingenuity had set him on the right path again.

Mackenzie cleared his throat. “I should head back. Mrs Bell threatened to spoil my ale unless I agreed to play footman.”

Mackenzie climbed onto the seat next to Mr Brown, and the women clambered into the back of the cart. The men began their march towards the castle, eager to sample Mackenzie’s prized ale before he drained the barrel.

“As my wife, you’re expected to ride back with me.” Fabian sensed her uncertainty. “Thunder is a little temperamental, but I recall you always favoured a spirited animal. Is that not another reason you agreed to marry me?”

“You called your horse Thunder?” She offered him a smirk.

“The name conveys strength and power does it not? Is a man’s horse not an extension of his character?”

Lillian’s eyes lit up. “Indeed, you’re a man of many contradictions, much like your horse." When Fabian frowned, she added, “Thunder looks rather timid with flowers tucked into his bridle.”

Fabian swung around. Someone had pushed roses around the browband and headpiece, so it looked as though the beast wore a crown of flowers. “Blast Mackenzie. This is his doing.”

Lillian pursed her lips. “I think he feels guilty for plying me with laudanum and stealing me away from home. He’s doing everything he can to make me feel welcome, and to make this a special day.”

The comment showed Fabian to be hopelessly inadequate. There wasn’t a man alive with a heart as huge as Mackenzie’s. What hope had he of making a good impression? Why did he even want to? “Be prepared for more surprises. Heaven knows what he’s done to the great hall. Had I given him more time I’m sure he would have sewn petals into shoes and carved leaves into the wooden tables.”

Lillian chuckled.

He liked it when her eyes shone with amusement. It reminded him of the carefree days of their youth. Noting the pink petal caught in her hair, he reached up to pluck it out. His fingers slipped into the silky strands, and he couldn’t resist stroking her temple and cupping her cheek.

Lillian’s eyelids fluttered, and she tilted her head a fraction as if leaning into his touch. But then she straightened and stepped back.

“We were friends once,” he said. “Under the circumstances, do you not think it wise to try again?” Friends and occasional lovers was the best he could hope for. Once Vane arrived, she would have an ally, someone to sour her opinion, someone to think for her.

Lillian remained silent for a moment. “Are the odds not stacked against us?”

She was probably right. She’d sacrificed her soul for Estelle, for peace and freedom.

“If I’ve learnt anything at sea, it’s that this moment is all that matters. A sailor focuses on the destination at his peril.”

“You mean one cannot expect to arrive at an idyllic location without effort.” She brought the posy of flowers up to her nose and inhaled.

“No, we must work hard even if the journey is perilous, even if we want to abandon all hope and turn back.”

“And where will our travels take us, do you think?”

He shrugged because he dared not think that far ahead. “There are havens littered along the coast.” Places called Friendship, Respect and Love. “Let us hope the wind steers us on the right course.”

“And what do we do when the storm comes?” Was she referring to Vane’s imminent arrival? “Because it is coming, Fabian, make no mistake about that.”

“Then we shall just have to weather it, and hope we’re strong enough to stay afloat.”

Something he said seemed to soothe her. Those bewitching hazel eyes softened, and she whispered, “Hope is all we have.”