Today.
She was marrying Alex today. The knowledge rang through Caroline, even before she opened her eyes to yet another flawless Yorkshire morning. Gladness was a sweet taste on her lips as she stretched beneath the covers.
She glanced out the window at the blue June sky, softer than the dome of blue over Crete. No length of linen cloth filtering the sunlight here. She thought back to that first waking in his spare cottage. Mediterranean light had filled the room that morning, but now the light was inside her. How far they had come, she and Alex.
The shadows that had haunted his eyes were gone, the hard cast to his face had eased. His smiles came more frequently now, though they still had the power to leave her shaken and amazed. He was full of life and hope, playful and vigorous…. She blushed, though no one was there to see her.
He had come to her every night, stolen kisses aplenty, and there had been one delightful interlude in the garden. She sighed at the memory of his hands moving over her, his mouth laying passionate kisses down her whole body, impatience in his touch as he undid buttons, pushed her clothing aside. And her own urgency as she stroked him, freed him from his trousers, and felt him gasp with desire for her. Ah, the wicked intimacy of their two bodies coming together half clothed, in the garden of all places—a secluded bower, but anyone might have stumbled over them. It had added an unexpected thrill to their lovemaking, as though they had stepped away from a summer party, the illicit strength of their hunger for each other enough to obscure any of the proprieties.
Afterward she had lain against him, happiness glowing through her as deeper in the foliage a thrush had burst into song.
She was glad they were not waiting. She yearned to wake beside him, day after day after day, to turn and smile at one another, sleepy and utterly content, gazing into the eyes of the beloved.
Today she would stand before him in the little chapel overlooking the sea and pledge her heart.
“Miss?” A quiet knock at the door. “Are you awake? I’ve some chocolate.”
Caroline sat up and pulled her dressing gown over her shoulders. “Come in, Annie.”
A cup of chocolate in the morning was one of her favorite indulgences, a pleasure that Alex had discovered upon their second morning here and that Cook had spoiled her with ever since.
“Good morning, dear.” Mrs. Trentham followed the maid in. “Our bride-to-be. Are you ready to see your dress? The seamstress just brought it.” Her blue eyes were lit with excitement as she smiled at Caroline.
“Very much.” She slipped out of bed and cinched the dressing gown tight while Alex’s mother stepped out to fetch Miss Goodey.
They returned, bearing the gown between them. It was wrapped in tissue paper, rustling as they carried it. Miss Goodey, who had struck Caroline as a very demure and serious woman, had a definite spring in her step.
“Lay it on the bed,” Mrs. Trentham said. “Now, let us see what Miss Goodey has wrought. Come, stand here, Caroline—yes, right in front.”
It would be lovely. It must be lovely. She was certain it would be lovely. Caroline bit her lip as the seamstress drew the paper away, revealing the gown beneath.
For a moment there was a reverent silence and then Caroline stepped forward. “Oh my. Oh, it is gorgeous.”
Miss Goodey had transformed an already beautiful dress into something that surely the Queen herself would be envious of. The rich cream-colored skirts spilled from the fashionable V-pointed bodice, and the off-the-shoulder neckline was edged with fine lace embroidered with roses, the same embroidery echoed in the pale pink gauze netting of the overskirt.
“Try it on, miss, do!” Annie had lingered in the room, and her squeal of excitement made them all laugh.
Drawers, chemise, corset, crinolines, and finally the gown itself. Annie fastened the back and let out a soft sigh. “Oh, miss, but you look fine.”
“Indeed you do,” Alex’s mother said. “How is the fit? Miss Goodey brought her needles if we need to make any last-minute adjustments.”
Caroline took a few experimental steps, the skirts hushing and elegant about her. She turned to the seamstress and performed her best court curtsey. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Miss Goodey.”
The woman brought her hand to her mouth, covering her smile, and dipped a curtsey in return.
Caroline swirled the skirts around her. The gown was truly exquisite. She fetched up before Alex’s mother and caught her hands. “I must thank you, Mrs. Trentham. For everything.”
“My dear. I have always wanted a daughter, and I am so pleased….” Her eyes were bright with emotion. “I am so pleased to welcome you into the family. You must call me Gertrude. Or mother, if you would like.”
Now Caroline felt her own eyes fill. She sniffed. “I mustn’t get tear stains on my dress.”
“Here, miss.” Annie held out a handkerchief, which Caroline accepted gratefully.
“Mother? Are you there?” Alex’s voice from the hall, his footsteps coming closer. “I need to ask you something.”
Mrs. Trentham and Caroline shared one startled glance, then both rushed to the door and slammed it shut. Just in time, too, if Alex’s confused exclamation was any indication. He pounded, and Caroline leaned against the door while Gertrude turned the lock.
They looked at each other again and broke into laughter.
“What the dev—er, what is going on in there?” Alex’s voice sounded through the door. “Is everything all right? Caro?”
“Yes,” she called back. “Everything is just fine.”
“Alex!” His mother’s voice was stern, but mirth spoiled the effect. “The groom is not supposed to see the bride on the wedding day!”
“Well then, how am I supposed to marry her?” He sounded aggrieved.
“I meant, not until you are at the church. Now give me a moment. I will meet you in the parlor.” She turned to Caroline. “I’ll have breakfast and a bath sent up, and we shall spend the rest of the morning making you the most beautiful bride in all of England.”
“In all the world, I’d think,” Annie said, nodding vigorously.
After that the day accelerated at an alarming pace. Gertrude and Annie spent the next two hours devoted to Caroline’s toilette. She was bathed in warm water, given a variety of perfumes from which to choose—she settled on lavender with a hint of gardenia—her hair was combed and curled, and then she was dressed in the lovely gown.
At last they let her look in the mirror, and she caught her breath. It was said that any bride on her wedding day was transformed, but she could not quite believe the woman looking back at her. Her honey-brown hair was caught up in a chaplet of rosebuds, the pale pink matching her gown, and her cheeks were flushed with pleasure and anticipation. She was beautiful—and today she wanted, more than anything, for Alex to see her like this. Beautiful.
“Oh, you are a vision.” Gertrude tilted her head to one side, considering. “Perfect, except for jewelry. A necklace, hmm…let me go and see what I have.”
She returned carrying a velvet box. “I was thinking…. Do you like this?” She held up a double strand of pearls interspersed with pink tourmalines, the brighter gems sparkling between the rich satin of the pearls.
Caroline drew in her breath. “It’s beautiful.” She took the necklace, the smooth pearls warming under her fingers. The colors matched her gown to perfection.
Gertrude smiled. “It was a gift to me from Alex’s father. I would like you to have it as the first of your wedding gifts.” She gently fastened it about Caroline’s neck.
“I…” Caroline lifted her hand to a throat suddenly tight with tears. She turned to embrace Alex’s mother. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“The thanks are yours, my dear. Without you I would not have my son again.” Her voice was filled with soft conviction. “You brought him back. You were the light he followed home.”
~*~
The carriage bore them over the country lanes. Caroline rubbed her thumb across the band of her ring, over and over, though it felt comfortable now after a week of constant wear. Bound for her wedding, with a light and a heavy heart. She missed her uncle, her brother, Pen. But it was no use wishing, and they were all miles away. Somehow she would make it up to them. She glanced out at the flower-bright meadows. Perhaps later in the summer she would ask her uncle to host a garden party and they could all celebrate together.
She released her breath, let the regrets fall away. For now, it was enough to be joined with Alex. More than enough.
The track wound past the village and soon she glimpsed the silver stone walls of the chapel. It was modest; no huge Gothic steeples or medallions of stained glass, but graceful in its own proportions, the single bell set above the doorway pealing out merrily. Arched windows ran the sides of the building, and inside Caroline knew it was light and airy and filled with peace. She smoothed her skirts once more and caught Gertrude’s empathetic smile.
A crowd had gathered outside the front door, eagerly awaiting their arrival. As the carriage slowed she recognized Annie and the other servants, quiet Miss Goodey, and what must be local gentry, friends of the Trentham family. Certainly there were many well-wishers from the village and surrounding estates who had come to see the return of the county’s most prominent prodigal son.
And then she glimpsed a familiar face, then another. Caroline blinked—surely she was only wishing, hoping to see them…. But no, they were there. Her family.
With a glad cry, she threw open the door and leapt out of the carriage into the arms of Uncle Denby.
“Uncle! You are here!”
He held her tightly a moment, then set her back and gave her an intent look. “My dear, of course we came. But is this indeed your will—to marry Alex Trentham?”
“Oh, yes. Willingly, with all my heart.”
He nodded. “I have never had reason to doubt your judgment before, and I shall not begin now. If this is what you truly want, then you have my blessing, Caroline.”
“Are you going to monopolize my sister all day?” James stepped forward and embraced her. “Caro, we couldn’t miss your wedding.”
“But where is Lily? Is she well?” She scanned the happy throng but could not find James’s wife among them.
He smiled, a look of sheer joy and relief crossing his face. “She is at Somergate—with our new son. They are both well.”
“Oh, James!” She squeezed his shoulders. “You look happier than I have ever seen you. Although a bit tired.”
“Yes,” Pen pushed forward, her grin lighting her face. “That’s Alex’s fault. The letter telling us to come barely arrived in time. Lord Denby sent for your brother—and here we are!” She linked arms with Caroline. “But don’t you look beautiful! Wherever did you get that dress?”
“I can hardly believe you’re all here.” Caroline blinked, still not convinced she was not dreaming it. “When did you arrive?”
“Yesterday evening,” Pen said. “The gentlemen stayed at the inn in Ravensbridge, and I with a friend of Alex’s mother. We saw Alex and his mother last night, too. The idea of marrying you has quite transformed him.”
“The wretch—he said they were going to procure the license.”
“And so he was,” her uncle said. “License from your family.”
James cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really, Caro, did you think we would let you marry a Yorkshire man sight unseen? Even if his mother turned out to be the younger sister of the Marquess of Edgerton.”
“So you do know Mrs. Trentham.” Caroline turned to her uncle.
He gave a dry smile. “Yes. Although our relationship consisted primarily of her stuffing turf down the neck of my jacket when she was seven. She thought it quite amusing at the time.” He set his hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “James and I both found your Alex to be a satisfactory gentleman, sincere in his intentions and affection for you.”
“Oh, it’s good you didn’t meet him months ago,” Pen said. “He was quite dreadful then.” They all laughed.
“In truth,” James said, “Miss Briggs has proved herself a formidable advocate on his behalf. But look, the crowd is clearing. It must be nearly time.”
“Here, Caro.” Pen held out her hand, a silver sixpence glinting in her palm. “Good luck and joy for all your days. I know it’s more a country tradition, but…” She tilted her head. “It goes in the left shoe.”
“Allow me.” Uncle Denby took the coin.
Holding to his arm, Caroline slipped off her shoe and, balancing on one foot, held it out. He tucked the shilling into the lining by the heel, and she replaced her shoe. It would be comfortable enough for the duration of the wedding.
James offered his arm to Pen. “I’ll escort Miss Briggs to our seats and await your grand entrance.”
“My dear.” Her uncle cleared his throat. “Are you entirely sure about withdrawing the petition for the adoption? I would not want you to feel—”
“Uncle.” She took his hands in her own. “You’ve always been the family of my heart, and I could have asked for no better. But I will have Alex now, family of my own. I don’t need a piece of paper to know you love me.”
“I do indeed. Are you ready, then, to be escorted down the aisle by the father of your heart?” His eyes held a suspicious brightness.
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Yes. I am ready.”
The chapel stilled as she stepped inside, one hand on her uncle’s arm, the other holding her bridal bouquet of pink roses twined with ivy. Light streamed through the windows, and at the head of the nave stood Alex. His dark blue eyes were serious and he looked almost forbidding in his formal dark clothes. For a moment she recalled him on that first night on Crete, when he stood in the doorway black as a thundercloud.
Now he saw her and smiled, and was transformed.
The look in his eyes, the way his gaze followed her as she made her way down the aisle—it was as if they were the only two people in the room. Her heart ached with joy. Joy that took wing even as she released her uncle’s arm. She stepped forward, taking her place beside Alex. The long journey was over. She smiled up at him and was rewarded with a deepening warmth in his expression, the love so clear in his eyes that she caught her breath.
They clasped hands as the vicar spoke of hope and redemption, and when she said the words I will, no words had ever felt more true. His in return sent a thrill of pure belonging through her.
The ceremony passed in a happy rush until the vicar gave them a final benediction, and the chapel bell began to ring again, the church organ sounding out glorious music. Alex swept her into his embrace and kissed her, their lips sealing the promises they had just made.
“I love you,” he murmured.
Then they went down the aisle, catching quick glimpses of Alex’s mother weeping happily into her kerchief, James’s approving nod, and Pen grinning with glee. They paused to sign the registry, her hand surprisingly steady, and then forward into the perfect June day.
The guests followed them out of the church. Amid the hubbub of congratulations, she pressed one rose into Pen’s palm, another into Mrs. Trentham’s. Then her husband—her husband!—handed her up into the carriage and slid in beside her.
He nodded to the driver to set off, back to the house for the wedding breakfast, and amid good-natured cheering he once again lowered his mouth to hers.
There are kisses, and then there are kisses. This one reverberated with the peal of happiness chiming through her, his name ringing in all the spaces of her body as he pulled her close. Lip to lip, sharing the same breath, the same heartbeat. The same wild coursing of love through them. Despite—or perhaps because of—all they had gone through together.
She was breathless when at last he let her go.
“So, wife, are you glad?” His voice held an undertone of joy she had never heard before.
“I am beyond gladness.”
“Gladder than that day when two lost souls emerged from the Cave of Zeus into the light?”
“Even that. Because that joy was shadowed with an ending, where this one…” She put her hand to his cheek, studying those beloved features. “This one is made brighter still by a beginning.”