“In that we are quite alike. I never did anything conventional in my life,” Liliah teased, then entered the hall, with Samantha following.
“That is true.”
They walked down the hall, took the stairs, and then proceeded into the foyer. Liliah hurried her pace to precede her sister and led the way to the small chapel in the eastern wing of Kilmarin. It would be a small affair, this wedding. The announcement would be made at the masquerade ball the next night.
Good Lord.
One day at a time, she reminded herself, waiting for a moment as Liliah entered the chapel. Samantha distracted herself by comparing a wedding in Scotland versus a London affair. It wasn’t about the frills as much as it was about the steps that would have to be taken carefully. It was odd how easy the process seemed to be here. If she were in London, the banns would have been read three weeks in a row, and there would be the announcement inThe Times, the reservation of the church, and so forth and so on. What a boon to be married in Scotland! Although she was certain many women enjoyed the lavish affair that was a London wedding, she found she was more than satisfied with hers. There was something intimate and utterly romantic about it.
Liliah opened the chapel door, then turned to her sister. She mouthed a question.Ready?
Samantha nodded, and then the music began. It was a delicate concerto whose composer she couldn’t recall at the moment. Her entire mind and senses were engaged as she put one foot in front of the other, anticipating the moment she’d cross the threshold and see her betrothed. Taking a silent breath, she walked in, meeting the gaze of the party assembled, searching each gaze till she found the one she wanted to see the most.
Heathcliff’s reaction was everything she’d hoped for. His caramel eyes widened, then wickedly traveled the length of her before meeting her gaze with an intense one of his own. His expression was possessive, devoted, worshipful. She gloried in the feeling of it.
The rest of the details of the moment were insignificant in comparison to the delight of walking toward a future that radiated hope. Belatedly, she noted the small stained-glass windows above the vicar, pouring in rose-colored sunlight. The sound of a sniffle arrested her attention, and she noted the way Mrs. Keyes dabbed at her eyes, with Liliah doing the same. Iris watched with wide eyes full of wonder and, if Samantha were assuming correctly, a bit of a smug expression as well. She made a mental note to ask Iris later. Perhaps she had known all along.
Lucas gave her a wide grin followed by an approving nod, and that completed the small group of witnesses. It was quite reminiscent of her sister’s wedding, and she found no small measure of delight in that fact. How apt, that they, the daughters of a duke, would have small, private weddings when the opposite would have been expected.
Her gaze flickered back to Heathcliff as she took the final steps toward the altar. The vicar cleared his throat, and as Heathcliff reached out to grasp her hand, the familiar words were spoken.
“DEARLY beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man’s innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence.”
Samantha was transfixed upon Heathcliff’s gaze. His warm regard was more powerful than any words, any tradition. And while she respected the ceremony for its meaning, the depth of his gaze spoke of his personal dedication, his solemn vows, however unspoken, but utterly and undeniably true. The vicar continued with the liturgy fromThe Book of Common Prayer, with only slight pauses when he would glance to Heathcliff, or herself, awaiting their responses.
Heathcliff’s hands were warm as they held hers, his thumb drawing lazy circles over the wrist of her gloved hand. The ceremony blew past like a summer breeze, warm and welcome, and before long, she was pledging her vows to the man before her.
Tears pricked her eyes as he did the same, the depth of the emotion in his gaze echoing his words perfectly.
They might not have had the most promising start, but she had utter hope that their journey would be much improved over the course of time. As it was, already she had more than she’d dared hope a few days earlier.
The vicar offered a prayer, and she couldn’t force herself to close her eyes as was proper. Rather, she kept her gaze on Heathcliff, encouraged when he did the same. The blessing was pronounced, and before God, her sister, her brother-in-law, Mrs. Keyes, and Iris, they were pronounced husband and wife.
All that was left was the kiss, and with great anticipation, she lifted her gaze and was immediately swept up in Heathcliff’s embrace as his eager lips sought hers.
It was a joyful kiss, one she had never experienced from him before. It was free, unrestrained, and full of something she wouldn’t have been able to name unless it were so dear to her own heart: hope.
It was a common thread between them, one that seemed small upon first notice, but its depth was astounding, and she found it rooted itself in every corner of her heart.
As he ended the kiss—for certainly she would have gone right on kissing him, and with delight—his expression reflected the adoration his words had spoken earlier.
Their guests applauded, and Samantha walked with her husband down the aisle, to the edge of the chapel, where they were to sign the register.
The vicar cleared his throat, waiting beside the ancient wooden table, and pointed to two blank spaces in the old book.
Heathcliff signed his name.
Samantha signed hers, this time adding her new surname. It was the first time she’d seen it, the first time she’d dare whisper it into the world. It was almost too precious, too delicate to speak out loud.
And now it was real. It was done. And she was happy.
“No escaping me now,” Heathcliff murmured against her neck as he placed a kiss there.
A shiver of delight tickled her back. “Don’t you mean you cannot escapeme?”
He chuckled and led her from the chapel. “That may be the more accurate representation.”
“I think so. After all, you were quite resolved to resist my charms.”
