Delilah Marvelle – Prelude to a Scandal (страница 11)
Her heart fluttered as she paused beside him and glanced toward the bishop and the only witnesses who stood at the altar dressed in their finest—her mother and father.
She smiled at them.
Their aging faces beamed with genuine warmth and pride. There was no greater joy than seeing the happy faces of those she loved whilst knowing she was marrying a man she genuinely adored. A man she hoped she would quickly come to love.
Justine spun back toward Bradford, bumping into him in clumsy haste. His large hands steadied her as the expanse of his gray satin waistcoat and its row of silver-and-diamond-encrusted buttons overtook her entire view. She stepped back, a nervous laugh bubbling from her lips, and shyly glanced up at him.
Bradford’s dark hair had been smoothly brushed back from his forehead, displaying his entire rugged profile, including the jagged scar dominating the one side of his face.
A sense of pride filled her. For despite that scar, he was still unbelievably dashing. He looked like a seasoned pirate who had decided to become an aristocrat for a day. A smile overtook her lips at the very thought. She met his gaze.
Bradford’s dark eyes observed her, his expression suggesting he was too troubled to smile. He looked away and focused on the bishop before them.
Justine’s smile faded and her chest tightened. What if he’d never genuinely wanted to marry her? She’d not truly considered that until now. She’d been so focused on overseeing her father’s freedom, she had not considered how Bradford even felt about their wedding.
She swallowed as the bishop’s calm voice floated around her. An unexpected sense of dread overwhelmed her. The weight of her pearl-encrusted, lilac gown seemed to pull her down toward the marble slab at her feet. She wanted to give in to its weight and crumple to the floor but somehow managed to remain standing.
The bishop glanced at each of them, his gray brows rising toward his gold-threaded dome cap. “I require and charge you both, as you will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment why you may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, you do now confess it. For be you well assured, that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God’s word doth allow are not joined together by God; neither is their matrimony lawful. If any man do allege and declare any impediment, why they may not be coupled together in matrimony, by God’s law, or the laws of this realm; may he prove his allegation now.”
Justine glanced over at Bradford, half expecting him to say something. Yet no opposition fell from his lips. His jaw merely tightened.
The bishop went on, tonelessly reciting more words. Words she could no longer make sense of. Her thoughts blurred into a panic. After all, this was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Why didn’t it feel like it?
Bradford suddenly leaned toward her and reached out. His warm fingers gently grasped her wrist. She stiffened, realizing his hand was visibly trembling as he lifted her own hand and held it up high between them.
Could it be possible he was as nervous as she was?
He retrieved the lone ring from the leather-bound surface of the bible the bishop held up and momentarily met her gaze. Her heart raced and her cheeks blazed as he slowly and sensually touched the slim ruby ring to the tip of each and every one of her fingers, making his way toward what was to be her wedded finger.
Lowering his gaze, he recited his devotion, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
He then placed the glinting ring upon the third finger from her thumb. The cool metal grazed her moist skin as his large fingers adjusted the ring into place.
Never once did he meet her gaze or hint at any form of emotion. Justine swallowed against the aching dryness overtaking her throat and couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking or feeling. She only hoped it wasn’t regret.
Together they knelt before the bishop, Bradford’s large hand still holding hers. More words echoed around them but all she could think about was his hand. And how her hand was now his hand. Forever.
Their hands fell away. They stood and the ceremony ended, formally announcing it was time to sign the parish registrar in the side room off the altar. She didn’t even remember leaving the altar or walking into the room as she blankly watched Bradford sign the registrar with a few sweeping strokes.
He turned and held out the quill toward her.
Justine gently took the feather and approached the small oak table. Dipping the tip into the inkwell beside the registrar, she carefully and neatly scribed her full birth name beside his, fighting the trembling in her hand.
Sliding the quill back into the inkwell, she released a shaky breath as the old bishop gathered up the large book and congratulated them with a blessing. It was over. And no matter what Bradford’s true intentions were in marrying her, it was done.
A firm gloved hand touched the side of her arm. She jumped and whirled toward Bradford, who lingered behind her.
He leaned in, bringing with him the alluring scent of sweet cigars and heated sandalwood. “You look very pretty.” His gaze swept toward her lips before trailing back up and meeting her eyes again. “Give me your lips.”
She sucked in a breath. He wanted to kiss her?
Bradford straightened and stared down at her with penetrating dark eyes, as if he weren’t in any way pleased she had opposed his request.
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