Chapter Thirty-Three
Fatigue pulled at Gabriel as he stood beside Lord Benedict before the altar.
He had worked through the night, he had seen to every detail of the nation’s work, wedding work, and honeymoon that had been laid at his feet.
And he now stood at the top of the church aisle and felt every cell in his body tremble with awe.
Stunning was too tame a word for Janelle as she strode beside her father.
Her chin was lifted, her shoulders back.
She walked with the fierce expression of a warrior goddess.
Her gown flowed about her in silk and lace.
It framed her body, glorified her beauty, and trailed behind her like blessings in her wake.
The music swelled as she approached, and he caught her gaze as a man might catch a sunrise. God’s manifest glory, untamed and untouched, brought before him not to be claimed, but to be adored.
Such were his thoughts. Grandiose and sublime. They had to be because if he thought of her as anything less than a goddess, then nothing would stop him from claiming her as his own. He would fight every battle, wage every war, if only she would be his when the victory came.
It was all he could do to stand frozen in place when Lord Benedict took her hand and led her to the altar.
He clenched his hands into fists rather than pull her into his arms. He locked his jaw tight when she spoke her vows to someone else. And he kept the misery from his face when she at last looked at him.
It happened at the end. When her veil was lifted and the groom kissed his bride, Gabriel stood without breath because to allow air into his lungs would invite him to release a howl of rage and despair.
Husband and wife pressed together for a kiss, but when she straightened, her gaze was not on Lord Benedict but on him.
And in that moment, they both looked and said nothing.
They touched gaze to gaze and did nothing.
He broke first. His gaze fell to the floor in shame. He had failed her and now…
She was Lord Benedict’s wife.