7. Murray
Icouldn’t remember the last time I’d been nervous about anything, but my gut was definitely doing something as London and I walked into the registrar’s office. When she’d come to me yesterday morning with her proposal, I thought I was in some kind of fever dream.
That feeling hadn’t dissipated as we booked our appointment for the next day in Oban at the registrar so we could get married in a civil ceremony. The early-morning ferry across to the mainland had been smooth, the universe offering us a clear, dry spring day to commit perjury.
I threw the thought out because if I dwelled too much on getting caught, I wouldn’t go through with the plan, and I desperately needed to go through with the plan.
As the registrar went over the legal stuff, my mind wandered as my attention was pulled to the woman at my side like she was a magnet.
We’d barely spoken on the ferry or the drive to the registrar’s office.
London had put on a long dress for the occasion.
It had flowers printed on it and she’d cinched it in at the waist with a belt.
On the ferry she’d worn a warm, weatherproof jacket over it, but she’d left it in the car.
The dress had a split at the front of the neckline, revealing the swell of her pale breasts.
I swallowed hard, quickly glancing up at her face.
She was so beautiful, inside and out. Her offer yesterday regarding the postnup had meant more than she could know.
And I had to live in close quarters with her but keep my hands to myself.
This was going to be fucking torture.
If London was nervous, she was doing a good job of masking it for the registrar’s sake. The guy didn’t seem to notice anything off between us, even though I’d barely said a word.
I tugged on my tie. Sometimes owning a company meant putting on a suit to mingle with wealthy and important people, including government officials.
I didn’t particularly enjoy wearing a suit, but I was grateful I had one at the ready for a spur-of-the-moment wedding ceremony.
Honestly, I would have preferred getting married in a kilt, but the kilt would have brought on too many questions from Jack, the harbor master, who was a friend.
In the end, that hadn’t mattered because London and I managed to avoid him as we drove onto the ferry in my Discovery.
I’d seen Toby, who worked at the terminal, but I’d hurried London into the passenger lounge before he spotted us.
The suit and my newly trimmed hair and beard would draw questions. So would my companion.
When we’d settled at a booth inside the ferry, London told me I looked handsome, and I was trying not to read too much into it.
Yet as we turned to face each other, reaching for the other’s hands, it was difficult not to think on it.
Especially when her lush lips parted on a wee gasp as my calloused fingers curled around her much smaller ones.
Awareness rushed through me, and I took in a deep breath, hoping the shaky exhale came off as normal wedding day jitters.
“Let’s begin,” the registrar spoke. I’d forgotten his name already, so distracted with the chaos of my thoughts. “Murray, please repeat after me. I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Murray Ruairidh Shaw, may not be joined in matrimony to London Olivia Wetherspoon.”
My mind turned to last night when I’d called Kelly to explain I was getting married to London.
I tried not to lie as much as possible, and I realized with the careful way Kelly spoke, with a slight trill of excitement vibrating in her words, that my daughter was much more switched on than I sometimes gave her credit for.
She knew the truth. After all, she would have noticed the signs of her dad having an affair with London.
But she didn’t call me on it. Any other kid in a normal situation might have been pissed off that their parent was not only getting married, but getting married without them present. Not Kelly. She congratulated me, voice bouncing with hope, and promised she wouldn’t tell her mum.
That’s how much she wanted to escape Jill. She welcomed a stranger as a stepmum.
Fuck. Jill and I were going to see our lovely wee girl in therapy one day for all this shite we’d put her through.
I’d almost called it off as I hung up on Kelly until I remembered that hope in her voice. She wanted to believe this would help her come home, so I would go through with it.
Even if it was completely and utterly illegal. The thought of getting caught and jeopardizing Kelly’s safety in that respect almost stopped me getting in the car this morning. Once I got over that and picked up London from her bungalow, the sight of her almost stopped me again.
Not because she was the worst choice. But because … the opposite.
However, I decided I was a grown man, and I could handle a one-sided attraction to the woman who was about to become my wife.
London’s eyes suddenly grew round, her fingers tightening over mine, and I realized with a jolt I hadn’t answered.
“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”
The registrar grinned. “A bit nervous there?”
I nodded, lips pressed tightly together.
He repeated the vow, and I recited it word for word.
The registrar gave me a patronizing smile of encouragement and turned to London. After he spoke, London held me captive in her turquoise gaze. “I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, London Olivia Wetherspoon, may not be joined in matrimony to Murray Ruairidh Shaw.”
My heart raced and a rush of something that felt dangerously like possessiveness made my hands grip hers more tightly. Irritated with myself, I released my hold ever so slightly, so she’d think it was just a reassuring squeeze.
The registrar focused on me again and asked me to repeat his words.
I cleared my throat once he was done, hoping I remembered it correctly. “I call upon these persons, here present, to witness that I, Murray Ruairidh Shaw, do take thee, London Olivia Wetherspoon, to be my lawful wedded wife.”
The witnesses were provided by the registrar. I’d wanted to tell Tierney and Ramsay the truth so they could bear witness at the ceremony, therefore cementing the lie and making it more believable. But London had vehemently disagreed with the suggestion. She felt Tierney would talk her out of it.
It was London’s turn for her fingers to flex nervously in mine.
I could feel her palms had grown clammy too, betraying her nervousness, despite her placid expression.
Her melodic, accented voice tugged at my gut in a way that reinforced how difficult these coming weeks were going to be for me.
“I call upon these persons, here present, to witness that I, London Olivia Wetherspoon, do take thee, Murray Ruairidh Shaw, to be my lawful wedded husband.”
Husband.
I was a husband again.
Fear pricked through all the other emotions, but I stuffed it down, refusing to believe I could be foolish enough to choose another woman as dangerous as Jill.
London had confirmed yesterday my suspicions about her past; I’d recognized certain quirks within her demeanor over the past eighteen months.
While she hadn’t wanted to go into the details of the abuse, I knew there was no way she was lying about her ex.
No one could fake her reactions, specifically the one she’d had on Main Street when he’d called to threaten her.
My feelings didn’t matter in the face of that.
London would feel nothing but safe in my home. Even from me and my attraction.
Suddenly, the registrar was presenting our rings.
Yesterday afternoon, I’d gone into Mrs. Gilchrist’s antiques store after discussing it with London.
We got our ring sizes using a tool online.
We might as well plant the rumors first, and I knew Mrs. Gilchrist wouldn’t be able to resist telling someone that Murray Shaw bought two vintage gold wedding bands from her.
Luckily, she had two bands in her collection that fit us both.
Later I would find an engagement ring that was perfect for London. Just to keep up the pretense, of course.
I smirked to myself as I took the smaller band and slid it onto London’s ring finger. The antiques store owner had been filled with a million questions, growing visibly more agitated as I smiled coyly at her, refusing to answer.
She’d find out soon enough who the rings were for.
London’s hand shook a little as she picked up the larger band to slide on to my ring finger.
A spark of unease crackled to life as she had to force it over my big knuckle until it slipped into place.
Jill had had the same trouble when we got married.
I’d made some joke about my too big hands.
She’d laughed and murmured against my mouth as we’d kissed that she was looking forward to my big hands being all over her body that night.
It seemed unreal that the woman I married that day turned out to be someone I didn’t even recognize.
London isn’t Jill.
This isn’t a real marriage.
London must have seen something on my face because she frowned in concern. I wiped my expression clean as the registrar raised his voice and announced, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Mr. Shaw.”
I froze, somehow having forgotten that part of the ceremony.
Fuck, I couldn’t take a kiss from London without her permission. Not after she’d—
My thoughts were cut off as London grabbed hold of my lapels to pull me down into her kiss.
I grunted with surprise, my hands reaching tentatively for her, caught between not wanting to give us away and not wanting to overstep my boundaries.
I settled on resting them lightly on her waist, her heat seeping through the fabric of her dress as she moved her lips against mine.
Just like that I was overwhelmed by the lightly floral scent of her perfume, by the faint taste of something fruity on her soft lips.
As need began to build in my gut, it took a whole lot of willpower not to kiss her like I wanted to, thoroughly and deeply.
Instead I kept it PG, brushing my mouth over hers in gentle strokes.
She shivered against me and I bit back a groan, abruptly breaking the kiss.
London’s cheeks were slightly flushed, a hazy look in her eyes that made me want to find the nearest bed.
Clearing my throat, I released her waist and stepped back.
She blinked like she was coming out of a daze and glanced away, as if uncomfortable.
Shit. I’d messed up already.
“Right, let’s get this marriage certificate signed, shall we?” The registrar’s smile was confused as he glanced between us, like he could sense something was off.
“Sure!” London’s voice was high-pitched with overacting as she beamed at the man. It seemed to work on him, but I knew better.
Perhaps I should have pressed for more background information on this Nick guy, her ex. I knew it wasn’t my business, but now my mind raced, torturing myself over the extent of the abuse London suffered at his hands.
I had to find a way to reassure London that I was never going to be inappropriate around her. That we may have to hold hands while in public in Leth Sholas, share an affectionate peck on the cheek now and then, but I would never overstep.
She was safe with me.