by Lisa Norato
Marcella stared after him, speechless for once in her life. The tables had been turned. He’d just checked her out.
Sallie nudged her in the ribs and sing-songed, “I saw that.”
As a trail of six little bridesmaids, ranging in ages from four to twelve, followed them down the aisle, Marcella tried to recall anything and everything Lynne had told her about this hottie nephew of hers.
His name? What was his name? She didn’t know, but Marcella did recall Lynne mentioning he was an Oxford grad. He was acquainted with Henry because Henry taught at Oxford. In his day, her nephew had been a popular oarsman on the University’s rowing club.
Must be where those shoulders came from.
* * *
Bugger him, she nearly took his eye out, she was so beautiful.
Henry stepped forward as they approached the altar, and William handed him his bride, then moved to the left.
His gloved hands folded before him, William stared up into the stained glass and wondered, who is she? One of Aunt Lynne’s friends from the States? Yes, of course. Who but a cheeky American would wear her bosom to church as a fashion accessory? He’d always found them a big distraction during service. Breasts, that was. Nearly as tall as he, she was obviously of Italian descent with her short black waves, dark deep-set eyes, and full, expressive mouth that reminded him of a young Sophia Loren.
Aunt Lynne waved her bouquet, jostling William from his musings. First, late for the wedding, now slacking in his duties. He wasn’t used to being on this side of the altar.
He took Aunt Lynne’s roses and turned round to set them on the front pew. As he did, he glanced down the row of pews and across the aisle, looking for the exotic giantess. Her dark head appeared above the crowd because she was straining her neck to watch him. Their eyes met across the congregation.
“The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you,” the vicar greeted everyone.
William quickly turned back round and joined with the others in answering, “And also with you.”
He had committed his life to taking the tedium out of the Church of England and replacing it with fun, but a posh, impertinent American with a career in New York was a little too much fun for even this bloke. As the bishop and his mother had lately reminded him, it was time he got married.
William agreed, but a long-distance relationship and separate careers . . . not bloody likely he’d be going that route again.
The dark-eyed beauty in the back was no choice for a vicar.
