Epilogue #2
“If you would come with me?” The ceremony now concluded, the clergyman motioned for them to follow him to the adjoining room where the marriage register awaited.
Christina allowed Lord Coventry to lead her, leaning into him and desperately wishing for even a moment, one single moment, to be alone with him.
“My congratulations.” Inside the dimly lit room with only a small window for light, the clergyman gestured to the marriage lines and the ink pot and quill.
Lord Coventry took the quill to the ink and then signed his name with care, leaving her to follow after him.
A slight trembling took hold as she signed her name beneath his, gazing down at the marriage lines that now declared them husband and wife.
“I will excuse myself for a moment.”
With relief in her chest, Christina watched the clergyman pick up the marriages lines and then step from the room, leaving her alone with her new husband.
Turning, Christina took his hand in her own and looked up at him, the significance of their vows and the promise of their future settling over her.
“We are wed,” she said, softly, as he smiled, his thumb running over her hand, back and forth. “We are man and wife.”
“Yes, we are.” Again, he stood, saying nothing but not closing the distance between them. “I can hardly take it in. It is almost too much to believe.”
Christina giggled, heat streaking up from her core. “If you would only kiss me, my love, then I am quite sure you would be able to believe it then.”
With a laugh, Lord Coventry reached out and gently pulled her into his arms, the place she had been longing to be ever since she had stepped into the church.
Christina melted quickly into his embrace, her head going to his shoulder, hearing his heart beating steadily, a heart that was filled with love for her.
“My love.”
She looked up just as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against her forehead at first. The touch was enough to send her heart into a furious rhythm, a longing beginning to build in her that only he could satisfy.
Leaning back, she let her arms lift to his shoulders as she gazed into his eyes, seeing them flicker with the very same desire.
His hand came to rest on the side of her face, his thumb gently tracing the curve of her cheek as her eyes fluttered closed.
His lips met hers, reminding her of the very first kiss they had shared in the gardens that night all those years ago.
It had been sweet, gentle, but eager all the same, just as it was now.
Christina responded instinctively, her arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as his arms fell to her waist, sending a shiver up her spine.
A quiet knock at the door jolted them, forcing them apart.
“Forgive me, Lord and Lady Coventry, but your guests are waiting for your arrival.”
Lord Coventry chuckled, his breathing quick. “Thank you. We will be out in a moment.”
Christina, laughing softly, shook her head as Lord Coventry smiled at her. “If our guests are waiting, then we should make our way to the front of the church at once. I do not want them to wonder what it is that delays us.”
“I care nothing for that.” The low tone of his voice made her shiver with delight just as his lips caught hers again. “I would rather stay here with you than step out to see them all.”
“And yet, alas, duty calls for us to do so,” she whispered, smiling. “But we shall be alone again very soon, my dear husband.”
His eyebrows lifted as if he had not been expecting her to say such a thing. “To be called your husband brings me such happiness,” he told her, his grey eyes alive with love. “I feared that I was never again to hold you in my arms, but we have found our path together. I love you, Christina.”
“And I love you with all of my heart,” she whispered, the words now more certain than they had ever been before. “We cannot be separated now. Our lives are twined together, for the rest of our days.”
Later, when the wedding breakfast had concluded and the last of the guests had pressed their congratulations, Christina stood at the window of their carriage and watched the chapel grow small behind them.
The gold band on her finger caught the afternoon light — warm against her skin, a gentle, constant weight that she could not stop touching.
The scent of white roses from her bouquet lingered on her gloves, and the summer air that streamed through the open window carried with it the distant sound of church bells, ringing out across the countryside.
Lord Coventry — her husband now, truly and finally hers — reached across and took her hand. His thumb traced its familiar arc across her knuckles: I am here.
She pressed his palm: I am yours.
He brushed her wrist, his fingertips light as breath: I want to kiss you.
Christina turned from the window, smiled, and let him.