She rested her arms carefully against his chest and leaned forward until her face was mere inches from his. “I am sorry it took me so long to realize it.” She felt his heartbeat beneath her hands, matching the rhythm of her own. The rolling in her stomach was replaced by a fluttering as he pulled her to him.
Michael pressed his lips against hers, and colors exploded behind Helen’s eyelids. Every worry, sorrow, or fear was replaced by reassurance and comfort. With him, she did not have to worry about saying the wrong thing or pretend to be any other than she was. He knew her heart, the good and bad she kept hidden from everyone else, and he loved her for it.
Helen melted into the kiss, sliding her hands to his scratchy cheeks, surprised by how soft his lips were and the way they moved against hers; she thought she could continue kissing Michael forever.
At the sound of a man clearing his throat, Helen jumped up. Heat shot up her neck as she looked to the doorway and saw Jim and her mother. “Oh, yes. I . . . Captain Rhodes is awake, and I was just . . .” Helen looked around the room, not able to meet their eyes as she tried to think of something to explain why she was kissing the injured officer in their guest chamber.
“It’s about blasted time,” Jim said.
“Sir?” Helen’s gaze snapped toward him, and she stared. What was he talking about?
He strode into the room. “Glad to see you are awake, Captain. And that the two of you have come to your senses and realized what the rest of us have known for weeks.”
Helen glanced at Michael and saw a grin spread across his face.
“You do know I’ll insist upon you marrying my daughter now.” Jim scowled.
“Of course, sir. I would not have it any other way.”
Helen looked at the doorway and saw that her mother was smiling and dabbing at tears.
Jim clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, maintaining his angry glower, but Helen saw a twinkle in his eye. “And I am denying any transfers for you, Captain. Although I do think your bravery in rescuing half a company deserves commendation. I plan to recommend you for an advancement.” He tapped his finger on his chin. “Major Rhodes. It has somewhat of a ring to it, wouldn’t you say?”
Michael moved as if he would rise but winced and relaxed back into the pillow. “Thank you, sir.”
Helen embraced her mother and was surprised when Jim wrapped his arms around them both. “You know, I would not agree to part with you for anyone less.” He pulled back and kissed her forehead then cleared his throat. “Very well, I am going to have my breakfast.” Jim turned toward the door, and Helen could have sworn he brushed away a tear. He motioned between the two of them. “As you were. Carry on, then.”
“Yes, sir.” Michael said.
When the door closed behind her parents, Helen and Michael found obeying the general’s order to be no trouble at all.
Epilogue
Helen tied the ribbons of her wide-brimmed hat, giving one last glance around her bedchamber to ensure she’d not forgotten anything. Michael had left her for an hour to change out of her wedding gown and see to any final packing. He would come to fetch her any moment to begin the journey to Simla.
Michael, her husband. Helen’s grin had not left her face all day, and it was beginning to hurt her cheeks. The wedding had been beautiful. Lady Patricia had fretted, worried that Helen might miss her sisters, but truly she’d not cared one bit. Only one person had mattered, and he’d looked resplendent in his red regimental jacket and polished boots. Helen had hardly heard a word of the ceremony. Her eyes had continually wandered to Michael’s face, and each time, he’d been watching her with soft eyes and a smile nearly as large as her own.
Lord Minto and the new Governor-General, the Marquess of Hastings, both congratulated them as they’d walked down the aisle of Thomas Middleton’s church, holding hands as man and wife and thanking the other members of the Raj for coming to the ceremony.
When she arrived home, Helen had slipped the Rani’s gold bangle onto her wrist and wrapped a red silk shawl around her shoulders to greet guests at the wedding breakfast. Sita had presented the shawl to her as a wedding gift, insisting that a bride should wear red. White is the color of mourning in India, she’d said. The soft fabric and bright color made Helen feel beautiful and festive—as a bride should, she thought.
Michael had run his fingers over the delicate gold embroidery on her shoulder. “You look like a princess,” he’d whispered.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and Helen turned as her mother entered. “Your husband has sent your trunks ahead. He is waiting for you in the entry hall.”
“Thank you.” Helen embraced her mother, feeling her expanding stomach between them. “Do hurry to Simla, Mamá.”
“We shall be only a few days behind you.” Lady Patricia straightened the red shawl. “You were the loveliest bride I could imagine, Helen. Jim and I could not be happier.”
She embraced her mother then hurried down the stairs.
Michael stood inside the doorway, and Helen’s heart tripped when she saw him. Would it always do so?
She skipped down the last few steps and flew into his arms.
He sucked in a breath between his teeth, and she stepped back, studying his face to make sure she had not squeezed his tender ribs too tightly.
“I shall hope for such a greeting every time I see my beautiful wife.” He lifted her chin and pressed a kiss to her lips.
Helen wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed. “I shall hope for this greeting every time I see my handsome husband,” she said and kissed him again.
“I’d hoped once you were married I wouldn’t have to keep walking in on such displays.” Jim rolled his eyes with an expression of long-suffering as he came down the steps with Lady Patricia. “Don’t the two of you have a bridal tour to be getting on with?”
Helen and Michael exchanged a smile, and she embraced her parents. “Travel safely, Mamá. Jim. I shall see you in a few weeks in Simla.”
The butler opened the door, and Helen took her husband’s arm as they stepped through.
She stopped with her foot in midair as she saw what awaited her. A massive elephant stood at the bottom of the steps. Basu Ram held on to a rope around its neck. The animal’s gray skin was painted in colorful flowers and swirls. It wore silks, and a golden headpiece rested between its eyes. On its back was a canopied box with a seat that looked like a small sofa.
Helen pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Oh.” She felt like a little girl and wanted to jump up and down giggling, but somehow she managed to remember that she was a major’s wife.
Basu Ram made a noise, tapping the elephant’s leg with a stick, and it knelt down before them.
“Shall we, larla?” Michael led her toward the animal, and the men helped her climb up into the howdah, then her husband joined her.
She clung to his arm as the conveyance leaned from side to side while the animal stood. They were so high off the ground.
A chattering sounded, and Badmash climbed over the seat, settling between them.
Helen laughed as Michael scooped him up and deposited him on the floor. “I worried we might have company.”
She waved to her parents as the elephant took them away from her home and toward her new life with the man she loved. The man who knew a painted elephant on her wedding day would mean more to her than any gift he could give.
“Thank you, Michael,” she whispered, settling back against him. “I cannot imagine anything more perfect.”
Happiness welled up inside her, and music filled her soul. She looked ahead at the Grand Trunk Road that would take them to the Ganges River and realized it did not matter whether she was in London or Calcutta or Simla or somewhere in between. With Michael, wherever she was would be home.
About the Author
Jennifer Moore is a passionate reader and writer of all things romance due to the need to balance the rest of her world, which includes a perpetually traveling husband and
four active sons, who create heaps of laundry that are anything but romantic. Jennifer has a BA in linguistics from the University of Utah and is a Guitar Hero champion. She lives in northern Utah with her family. You can learn more about her at authorjmoore.com.
Other Covenant Books by Jennifer Moore
Becoming Lady Lockwood
Lady Emma’s Campaign
Miss Burton Unmasks a Prince
Simply Anna
Lady Helen Finds Her Song Page 23
