My Clarity

Chapter thirty three

For three days, time seemed to never move about. But Friday had finally come. Jack glanced at Charlie, who stood with him at the altar. Together, shoulder to shoulder. It seemed fitting his only relation, although distant, to stand beside him at his own wedding. It was the full circle of which they had come and the acceptance of the other; warts and all. After-all, they were the only true family the other had left. Charlie grinned, his brow arching as he stood in his black suit, complete with a neatly done cravat which surprised Jack, perhaps most of all.

''Any doubts about all of this?'

''No.''

''After this, you do know that it will be available for all to know? I don't wish to cloud your wedding day with such misery but...he might not be able to take your wife, or Dawson steel, but he might make your life a hell.''

He was on about Hockley. A reminder he didn't wish for.

Jack opened his mouth to whisper back when the sudden hush in the church drew his attention. Rose entered alone and the sight of her took his breath away. Charlie's low whistle just before the music swelled said his unspoken question had been answered.

Jack had never seen a more beautiful bride. Standing head to toe in white lace with the only colour been her red lips and auburn hair. His bride.

Muffled weeping moved his attention to a witness they had acquired, an elder lady with such wrinkles it was hard to distinguish actual features but still, she stood on shaky legs and leant against a stick perhaps older than she and nodded to Jack with a knowing smile. One sensed she had witnessed many weddings and had cried at them all; a true believer in love and life. A relative of the pastor she may have been.

Faces were missing from the church. His own mother, his own father and his uncle. Those who mattered the most to him, those he had given his own life to get justice for as they had continued to work below decks and now, perhaps, uncle Eric was right. He would get his reward for working hard; it just wouldn't be Dawson steel. The love of a woman; a wonderful life.

Rose's steady steps faltered. She glanced around the church like a frightened doe. He stepped forward. She would not run. He wouldn't bare it if she did. His heart raced with something akin to panic. Then she met his gaze, lifted her chin, and continued to approach him.

The ceremony began. And it was long. Too damned. Eager to hasten the process, he repeated his vows with strength and conviction, his deep voice carrying across the packed pews. Rose repeated her vows slowly and with great care, as if she were afraid to stumble over the words. He could see her trembling, felt how cold her hand was in his, and knew she was terrified. He squeezed her hand gently, reassuringly, but with unmistakable claim.

And then the deed was finally done.

Pulling her close, he kissed her, and was surprised at the ardour with which she kissed him back. Her taste flooded his mouth, intoxicated his senses, made him mad with desire. It was horribly scandalous. He didn't care.

Jack felt an anxious, unrestrained emotion well up inside of him as he stared at his wife. It was almost too much. So, he crushed it and looked away.

''I love you,'' he whispered so that only she could hear. "I love you so much."

Her cold hand clasped his in an unspoken return of the words. There was a fear still remaining within her but that would go; he would ensure it. They would be all right now.

Rose tried not to think too much to prepare for her wedding night. Taking her time with her bathing routine that morning, she glanced around the room, content to be surrounded by her own things even in a strange place. The chamber was beautiful and expansive, the walls lined with soft pink damask. Only one door separated her from the room where she slept with Jack each night. The room where he had touched her days before and now, she would finally become a woman in mind and body. The remembrance made her skin hot. The thought of him making love to her made her nervous. Despite the endless desire she'd become accustomed to, it was still terrifying to have married a man whose will was greater than her own. A man so determined to achieve the realisation of freedom that nothing was allowed to stand in his way. Could she influence such a man?