by Ella Edon
“I haven’t had such good soup in a while,” Luke commented.
“Yes. It’s very good,” Emilia said, letting her spoon slide in under the surface. It was rich, thick broth, flavored with vegetables, salt, and a ham-bone. Emilia felt it warm her insides. She reached for the bread.
As she chewed, she felt his eyes on her. She set the slice of bread aside, dabbing at her lips with the napkin.
“You are quiet, milord.”
“I was just thinking,” Luke said softly, “that you have the most beautiful eyes I ever saw.”
Emilia stared at him. Very deliberately, she set her spoon aside. Her heart was thudding so loudly, she could barely hear aught else, and she reached across the table, feeling her heart start to thump as he took her fingers in his own.
“You have beautiful eyes, too,” she whispered. “I noticed them from that first day, in the attic.”
He looked down at the table, clearly embarrassed.
“I noticed how beautiful you were that very first day,” he said.
She grinned. “I suspected you were somewhat intrigued.”
He chuckled. “Intrigued I was. Enchanted, too. I had never seen such loveliness.”
Emilia felt the knot in her tummy become an impossible band, squeezing it, making her feel a range of tender feelings she’d never known before.
“You are too kind,” she said. Her voice came out sounding strange— it was raw and tight in ways she’d never heard it.
“I was foolish,” he stated, smiling. “I saw your beauty from the first glance. Your keen wits I took a while longer to discover.”
She laughed, reaching for the bread. “Milord, I’m flattered. Not so much that you overlooked them, that first day, but that you see them now.”
“Milady, it would be a fool who didn’t notice.”
She sniffed, feeling surprisingly touched by that. Even her own father tended to fuss about her looks more than commenting on her character or her intelligence. She was surprised Luke considered it a virtue in a girl.
“Well, it didn’t take me long to discover how wise you are, too.”
It was wonderful to see the amused and tender look that crossed his face, when she said that. He chuckled. “You do me honor, seeing that. I did make rather a ridiculous first impression.”
“Nobody could doubt your wisdom, Lord Westmore. Or your kindness.”
“Luke,” he said softly.
Emilia’s breath almost stopped. “I’m sorry?”
“You used my name, earlier. Use it now?”
Emilia felt the breath of that sentence tingle through her body. She tensed, wanting the delicious feeling never to stop. She could feel his foot beside hers and she thought her heart might burst form the wonderment of it.
“Luke,” she whispered. “Luke.”
He smiled, a tenderness she wouldn’t have imagined possible, lighting his eyes and glowing inside of his grin. He took both her hands in his and squeezed the fingers.
As if he had realized it at the same moment as she did, she felt him lean forward across the table. He was surprisingly close, and she closed her eyes as his mouth brushed against hers. Her lips parted as his tongue lapped across the line between them and then pressed in between, in a way that left her breathless. His tongue, tasting sweet from the mulled ale, pressed to hers, lapping gently.
“Luke,” she murmured as he leaned back, gasping.
He stood, and soon he was beside her, his hands on hers, looking down at her where she sat, still, on the wooden corner-seat. He drew her up to her feet and she sighed, feeling impossibly rested as her head leaned against his shoulder, his arms wrapping her close.
“Emilia,” he whispered into her hair. “My Emilia.”
She felt her body press against his, her breasts flattening against his surprisingly-hard chest. She had never felt such strong arms before, as the ones which tightened around her, their strength like metal bands. He drew her against him and she breathed in the warm, musky scent.
His mouth pressed against hers again, the tongue slipping over hers with an urgency that kindled her passion. He leaned against her, pressing her body against the wall and she felt the lean hardness of it with amazement.
“Luke,” she whispered in his ear as he pushed her, very gently, but insistently, against the settle by the fireside. It was covered in thick cushions, and as she lay down on it, she felt impossibly weary, as if she wished to lie there forever.
“Nobody will disturb us here,” he whispered as he kissed her. She closed her eyes and felt a wild heat rise inside her, making her cheeks flush. She knew that she wanted to stay here, lying beside him on the warm settle, wanted to feel her body pressed to his and the way he lay on her, his weight gently pushing down on her breasts, his body rubbing against her own, forever.
“Luke, what are we…” she started to say, realizing with some sort of instinct she didn’t understand, that this was something she shouldn’t be doing, and that this led to an impossible crossroads.
“Emilia,” he whispered into her hair. “My sweetest Emilia. I want to marry you. I don’t want to spend a second longer without asking you…will you say yes?”
Emilia stared at him in shock. A sweet tenderness started to grow inside her, and she felt her heart melting in her chest. She cleared her throat – it was too tight with feelings to talk.
“Luke,” she whispered. “Yes. Oh, yes.”
She knew it was impossible; that it was insane. What would her father think of this? How could she do this? But, at the same time, her heart, her mind, and her soul were in agreement. He was the man she wanted and always would, forever and ever.
“Yes,” he said. “Oh, Emilia! You have made me so happy.”
They looked at each other. His blue eyes sparkled. She felt herself redden with a blush. She reached up and stroked his hair, and he caught her hand and squeezed it. She giggled. It was so amazing! Was it possible, that this was really happening, to her?
“Luke,” she whispered again. “I do love you. So much.”
“I have loved you, I think, from the moment I saw you. You are a remarkable woman, Emilia. I will always love you – I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Oh, Luke,” she murmured. It felt so good to say his name. She wanted to say it over and over again. She reached up and pressed her hand to his cheek. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently as he laced his fingers into hers. His face was suffused with tenderness.
She frowned. “Luke…when would we?”
“Here and now,” he said. “Emilia, I want you with every fiber of me. I don’t know what the future holds…I…forgive me,” he said, with a shaky laugh. “I am impatient. I would whisk you to a chapel right this instant! But we can wait, until tomorrow, if you would rather?”
Emilia drew in a deep breath. Of all the things she had expected him to say, the suggestion that they marry now – right this instant – seemed to impossible, too crazy. And yet, at the same time, it had a kind of wild sense to it. If they wed now, she would have no explaining to do. Her father would hear of it as a done deed, and – for all she knew – Luke could see a way through their predicament that she could not. It was not ideal, perhaps, for her father, but he wouldn’t hate her for it. He’d always told her how he’d hoped that she would find a love match, just like he and Mama had been.
She laughed, breathlessly. “Luke…do you think we could?”
He raised a brow. “I don’t see why not. There’s a chapel on the hill, not far from here. A monastery of sorts. I see no reason why some friendly priest could not perform the deed for us, right this minute. Of course…” He frowned. “I am cheating you out of something nicer.” The expression on his face was regretful. She reached for his fingers, squeezing them in her own.
“No! Luke! I care not for fripperies. Let’s do it now…it would be…so…” She ran out of words. It would be wild, adventurous, bold. It would be a deed utterly out of the ordinary; something that would sustain an
d nourish them for the rest of their lives. Testimony to their love.
“Let’s!” he drew her to him, and his arms squeezed around her, almost crushing the air out of her. She giggled, feeling wild elation.
They kissed and her body melted against his. Then, together, trying to be as silent as they could, they tiptoed out into the gathering night.
Chapter Twenty-Four
A Promise
Emilia sat in the coach, her heart thumping wildly. She still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. She’d come here with not even the vaguest intention of spending the night away from home. Now, suddenly, here she was in the middle of a forest, in a hired coach, speeding up a hill to a chapel.
She was about to be married.
Opposite her, Luke raised a brow. She could see his smile even in the darkness, a radiance that shone through the gloom and set off a spark of wonderment deep inside her. She couldn’t quite believe this was happening.
“I’m excited,” she told him.
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Emilia,” he said. His voice sounded tight, as if filled with a tide of emotions. “I am so glad. I half-thought you’d be angry with me.”
“Angry?” She grinned. “Why would I be?”
He raised a shoulder, shrugging. “Oh…only because I am hauling you off to a ceremony you had no time to prepare for.”
“I had all the preparation I need. I’ve known you for a few weeks – you lived in my home for a full six days!”
He laughed. “I think we’re already better acquainted than half the matches in London ever.”
She giggled. It was remarkable, but it was happening. They were heading through a darkened forest to a church on a hill.
The coach creaked to a halt. Luke opened the window.
“Brogans-in-the-woods,” the coachman called down. “We’re here.”
“Thank you,” Luke called up. He opened the door and stood beside it, reaching up to take her hand. Emilia jumped down, feeling slightly surreal.
She looked up the slight incline, towards where large stone abbey stood. It looked like something from a distant past, almost like she would imagine a chapel in the time of King Arthur. It had stone walls, a turret that leaned just slightly to one side, and a thatched roof. Her heart thudded joyously.
Beside her, Luke squeezed her hand. “Shall we go in?”
“Yes.” Her voice was a whisper. She felt nervous, of all things. What would the priest say?
Luke rang the bell that hung beside the point-arched door. Emilia breathed in the scent of brick dust and damp, and tried to calm down.
“Hello? Who’s about at this hour?” a gruff male voice called through the door.
“One who seeks the sanctuary of the church. I wish to speak to your abbot, please,” Luke explained.
There was a long pause. Emilia’s heart beat hard in her chest. Would they open up? Then, the door slid open.
“Come in.”
Luke stood back for her to cross the threshold first. Emilia found herself looking into the face of a monk who stared at her with narrowed eyes.
“Women aren’t allowed into the inner sanctum,” he told Luke. Luke took Emilia’s hand, then shrugged.
“I don’t intend to go into the inner sanctum,” he replied levelly. “If you could fetch the abbot, please?”
“I’ll go and find him,” the monk said gruffly. “But I’ll have to wake him up.”
His rough-soled shoes slapped on the flagstones as he headed up a dark corridor. Emilia looked up at Luke, nervously. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“They’ll say yes,” he assured her.
His eyes glowed, and she felt reassured just by looking at him. She leaned against him, arms holding him close. He drew her to him and she leaned her head on his chest.
When they heard footsteps returning, Emilia felt her whole stomach grip tight with excitement. She looked up at Luke, who had tensed. He reached for her fingers and held them. She turned to the abbot.
He was a tall man, dressed in a long white robe, with a luxurious head of white hair and a high forehead. His face below was contemplative, serene.
“What can I do for you, my son? And my daughter,” he asked, raising a brow as he looked at Emilia.
She drew in a breath just as Luke answered first. “We want you to marry us. Please, Father? It’s a matter of urgency.”
The priest looked at them both. Emilia felt her skin prickle with tension. What was he thinking? Would he agree to it?
After a moment, he smiled. “Yes,” he said. “I would be pleased to.”
Emilia looked at that smiling face and something inside her relaxed. She pressed Luke’s hand, which still held hers. He turned to her and smiled.
“Thank you, Father,” he said, giving the priest a small bow. Emilia nodded. She was at a loss for words.
“We’ll go to the small chapel,” he explained. “My brothers would never forgive me if they knew I’d admitted a woman into the inner sanctum.”
Emilia thought she heard him chuckle. Her heart warmed to him as, together, they followed him out.
She found herself standing before a small shrine. It held a brass cross, and on the wall behind it, a fresco had been hastily painted, depicting a heavenly scene. She swallowed hard. She looked up at Luke, who stood beside her. He was smiling and looked completely calm. Her tummy was tying itself in knots. She felt his hand press hers and then fall to his side. She drew in a breath and tried to concentrate.
The abbot lit some candles, then opened a small book. Coughing twice, he started the sacred words that would bind them together.
As he spoke through the ceremony, Emilia looked about, feeling overcome. The candlelight flickered over the walls of the small, holy place, rendering it dark green, orange, and black. The light extended only a little way into the darkness, making a small, cave-like space in which she was alone with Luke, the abbot on the margins of the light.
She felt Luke tense, and her attention flickered back to the present. She realized the ceremony had reached the point where they would make their vows. Her heart was full.
“Yes,” Luke said. His voice broke with the intensity of feeling. “I do.”
The priest smiled. “And you, Emilia Aline Herston? Do you take thee Luke Jarvis Preston to be your husband?”
“I do.”
As the ceremony carried on, Emilia became unaware of all else, but the rising excitement inside her. She was married to Luke! Of all the wildest, most wonderous things that had ever happened to her, this was perhaps the most remarkable, the most unexpected. It was also, she thought, as she glanced sideways up at him, the happiest thing she could ever have imagined.
* * *
Luke walked out of the chapel in a haze. He glanced down at Emilia, who walked beside him. Gracefully lovely, she seemed to float down the steps at his side. He reached for her hand, not quite able to believe she was real.
They went through the dark garden again, and through another door – he barely noticed the surroundings. Opposite him, the abbot beamed.
“Congratulations,” he said. “I wish you both a safe journey, and a blessed life before you.”
“Thank you,” Luke managed gruffly. He looked at Emilia, who cleared her throat.
“Thank you so much, Father. We are deeply grateful.”
The priest’s face softened. “Glad I could help, milady,” he said. “Now, I suggest you awaken Brother Marriot, and he can take you down to the village in the cart. It’s a dark night, and two miles on that road, with its unexpected turns, it could take you four hours.”
He unlocked the door and, before Emilia and Luke knew it, they were outside again, standing in front of the abbey.
Luke looked down into Emilia’s lovely face. Her eyes sparkled in the lamplight, which played over her moist lips. He felt a need for her like a physical ache. He took her hands and let his eyes feast on her loveliness. His whole body was tense with need.
“Thank you, Emilia,” he whispered.
“Thank you?” She frowned, her mouth slightly parted, falling into an irresistible expression of surprise.
“For saying yes,” he explained. “You’ve made me so happy.”
“Oh, Luke, you silly.” She chuckled. “Of course I did! I want to spend my life with you more than I ever wanted anything.”
He laughed. “Well, good! That’s exactly how I feel.”
“Really?”
