If he had thought her lovely before, nothing could have prepared him to see her dressed in a close-fitting gown of violet silk that matched her eyes…a delicate circlet fashioned from sprigs of lilac-hued heather placed atop her lustrous dark hair tumbling to her waist.
“God’s blessings on you both, Douglas,” came Gabriel’s voice on the opposite side of him, but Roger barely heard him.
For an instant Julianna looked lost, her gaze searching the chapel until she spied him standing at the front…her eyes widening and her cheeks flushing pink in the candlelight.
Roger didn’t waste another moment but strode down the narrow aisle to meet her and extend his hand.
Her trembling fingers touching his made something burst inside him, the grief he had known for so long near forgotten as a flicker of hope ignited inside him.
“Come…Juli.”
She didn’t flinch or look angry this time to hear him say her family’s nickname for her, though she blushed more deeply.
As they walked toward the white-haired priest waiting for them at the altar, Roger found himself wondering if Sylvia’s dying wish for him mayhap was coming true.
Julianna was kindhearted. Surely there was a chance they could find contentment together. Yet when he turned to face her at the old priest’s bidding, and she slowly did the same, Roger’s heart sank.
The tears brimming in her eyes and her cheeks suddenly drained of color told him that she wasn’t happy at all to be marrying him—och, how could he blame her?
His proposal sprung upon her so impulsively and both himself and the king giving her little time to consider her answer.
She was clearly overcome, overwhelmed. What could he do to comfort her? The priest was already intoning their vows, to which Roger answered with a resolute “Aye.”
His heart pounding that she might still refuse him, he began to caress her fingers with his thumb as her time came to answer the priest and she hesitated…which made him hold his breath until she gave a tremulous “Yes.”
Her assent the last thing she could have said, Julianna crumpling in front of him, though he caught her in his arms before she fell to the floor.
Witnesses gasping and the startled priest pronouncing them husband and wife as Roger carried her limp body from the chapel, her long hair dangling and the circlet of heather trampled under his boots.
* * *
Julianna fluttered openher eyes to find herself lying upon a bed in a firelit room, Roger’s back to her as he spoke to someone standing outside the door.
What had happened? She moaned softly, still feeling so light-headed. At once he glanced over his shoulder and then closed the door before striding to the bed.
“Julianna…lie still.”
He had spoken so gently as he stood over her, but she tensed anyway and tried to sit up only to have the room seem to spin around her.
“Och, lass, didna you hear me?”
She moaned again as he eased her back onto the pillow and pulled up a blanket to her chin, his expression somber.
“You fainted in the chapel and I brought you here. The king had this bedchamber prepared for us with food and drink—”
“So we’re married?”
Roger’s handsome face half cloaked in shadow, he seemed taken aback for a moment, but then nodded.
“Aye, husband and wife as pronounced by the priest. Let me fetch you some water.”
He didn’t wait for a reply, but went to a table laden with a cloth-covered tray and a pitcher to pour scarlet liquid into a goblet, and then returned to her side.
“No water…only wine, but it will calm you. Let me help you.”
His voice still so gentle, Julianna nodded as he eased his arm behind her shoulders to slightly lift her and brought the goblet to her lips.
“Slowly, lass…aye, that’s good.”
