CHAPTER 38 - The Wedding
OLIVIA ENTERED THEchapel on unsteady legs. She had barely slept last night and her mood this morning was something akin to panic. What the hell was she doing? She was marrying a man she hadn’t known for even a month. In a world that was alien to her. She had known Charles for years before marrying him. They had similar interests and backgrounds. And look how that had turned out. This had disaster written all over it. She should turn and run...
She lifted her eyes and saw Dale standing at the foot of the altar. Her heart skipped a beat. He was so handsome. So heart stoppingly, drop dead gorgeous. His stern features were perfectly softened by what she had come to recognize as a spark of mischief in his eyes, a twist of sensuality around his mouth. The sight steadied her. Like he always did. He inspired trust. She could barely believe she was marrying him. Even under the most extraordinary circumstances.
Once she accepted his proposal, Dale had put in motion all the necessary arrangements with his usual efficiency. He had his secretary, housekeeper, butler, cook and gardeners, all of them working to arrange the wedding. And they all did their tasks diligently, even cheerfully. It was like having a little army of happy elves conspiring to give her a fairytale wedding. And only three days later, here they stood in the small estate chapel, about to get married.
They locked eyes across the length of the nave. And his steady, appreciative gaze gave her courage. She started walking towards him.
He had become so dear to her in such a short time. Even sitting in his office, keeping him company while he attended to business matters, was enjoyable. It was astounding the amount of work involved in running such a large estate. She thought Dale lived a life of relative leisure and luxury. She was right about the luxury but not about the leisure. The man worked restlessly. It made her admire him all the more. Not only was he handsome and kind, but also smart and hardworking. Those were qualities she could appreciate.
The smell of hundreds of hothouse blooms that decorated the chapel infused her with happiness and serenity. The light streaming from a stained glass window above the altar created an explosion of colors on the stone floor and splashed across her cream and turquoise gown as she walked through the beam of light.
She had to keep reminding herself that this wedding was a matter of convenience because she could not help but feel like an actual bride. She reached his side, and he smiled at her, taking her hand. His smoldering gaze made her all tingly inside. She wore one of her new gowns that the modiste had delivered just yesterday. It was a lovely creation, but most importantly, it was not one that had belonged to Dale’s previous wife.
The vows were a deeply poignant moment for her. In her heart, she could not take those lightly. They made everything real. This man was to be her husband.
He said his vows with a clear and steady voice, his gaze never once leaving her face. Then the moment came to kiss, and he bent his head to press his mouth to hers. She had thought it would be a light, chaste kiss, but their lips clung to each other for a moment longer than was appropriate, as if reluctant to separate.
The guests clapped, waking her from the spell that had kept her in a bubble where only she and Dale existed. She had forgotten that the vicar’s wife, Dr. Roberts, and the senior employees were sitting right there in the front row. She smiled shyly at them, while her face warmed.
They left the chapel in a flurry of well wishes and flower petals. His employees were deferential, but also warm. Those closest to him held him in high regard, that was certain.
Now they were eating the wedding breakfast. It was more like a brunch, in her opinion, since it was past noon. The housekeeper and butler had made sure everything was set up, and then went to have their own feast with the rest of the servants.
It made their wedding celebration very small. Only the vicar and his wife, the doctor and Dale’s secretary. Still, conversation flowed easily. They were all amiable people and seemed pleased to welcome her into the community. Dr Roberts in particular seemed happy to see Dale marry again.
Their welcome made her feel like a fraud. She and Dale had concocted a tale about her origins and the reason she had come to England. Dale put about the story that she was the granddaughter of a distant relative who had emigrated to America generations ago, and therefore they were some sort of distant cousins. She had recently found out about her grandfather’s English family, and since she was widowed and had no other relatives in America, she had decided to seek them out
Of course, Mrs. Simmonds and the butler doubted her story, but they knew better than to question anything. They were loyal to Dale. Dr. Roberts must suspect something amiss as well, but again, his evident affection for Dale seemed to make him suspend judgment.
She felt bad about lying to these people, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t very well tell them she came from the future. They would think she was crazy. Even if she could prove it to them, showing them her phone and the pictures in it, it would be a tremendous shock for them. No. Better to give them a story they could accept.
After the wedding breakfast, the guests took their leave. They bid them farewell in the drawing room. From the window, Livvy watched the carriages cross the gates on their way out.
***
FROM ACROSS THE ROOM, Dale looked at Olivia with wonder. Every moment in her presence, he wanted to make love to her, to possess her. And yet, when desire had been momentarily satisfied, he still craved her. Her conversation, her laughter, her presence. He wanted to absorb her into his life and have her fill all the empty places with her warmth and spirit.
Dale walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. She sighed with pleasure and leaned back against his chest. His arms tightened around her, and his head lowered to kiss the side of her neck. Her subtle fragrance teased him as her skin heated. He liked that she never wore too much perfume, as some ladies were wont to do, using it like a weapon to assault the senses. Instead, her perfume was like a whisper, only noticeable if you ever got close enough. It was for him alone to discover as he explored her skin. She purred with pleasure and turned her head, offering more of her neck.
He wanted to devour her on the spot. Just lift her skirts and take her right now, here in the drawing room. But he buried that urgency, for he had other plans in mind. This was their wedding day. He wanted it to be special, and he had a surprise for her.
