Bound by Honor (Book 1 in the Legacy of Love Series)

Chapter 4: A Union Sealed by Duty

The chapel was filled with nobility and guests, each one dressed in their finest garments, each an observer to the union of Valcourt and Marborough. Isolde stood at the entrance, her hand in her father's, as her eyes swept over the crowd. She found Lucien near the front, standing tall and composed, his face set in unreadable lines. But his eyes—those dark, piercing eyes—held a look she would recognize anywhere. She saw the same heartache, the same unspoken longing that threatened to consume her, and in that moment, her chest ached as if her heart were breaking into a thousand pieces.

But she forced herself to look away, to steady her breathing as her father led her down the aisle. Each step brought her closer to Edwin, who stood at the altar in a robe of black and silver, his expression as cool and measured as always. The walls of Marborough's chapel closed in on her, the towering arches and sacred candles seeming to witness her silent rebellion, her unvoiced despair.

When they reached the altar, Edwin took her hand. His grip was firm, but there was no spark, no sense of life between them. She could feel the weight of his touch but no warmth. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze, seeing only duty reflected back at her.

The priest began, his voice solemn, echoing through the vaulted ceiling as he led them through the vows that would bind them. Each word felt like a shackle, tightening around her, trapping her in a fate that was no longer her own. She repeated her vows, each one barely audible as she forced herself to speak them. Her voice trembled, but she kept her gaze steady, refusing to let anyone see her break.

"Do you, Lady Isolde de Valcourt, take Lord Edwin of Marborough to be your wedded husband, to honor and serve, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

The question hung in the air, each word a sharp sting against her soul. She wanted to scream, to refuse, to run from the altar and into the arms of the man who truly held her heart. But she saw her father's hopeful gaze, the expectant faces of the guests, and above all, Lucien, his expression carved from stone, as though he, too, were barely holding himself together.

With a voice that betrayed her pain, she whispered, "I do."

When the priest turned to Edwin, his response came swift and certain, a calm "I do" that felt like an acceptance of the arrangement rather than a pledge of love. When the priest finally pronounced them husband and wife, Isolde felt a crushing wave of sorrow and emptiness. Edwin lifted her veil with practiced precision, his lips pressing to hers in a brief, formal kiss—a cold, hollow gesture that left her feeling as though she were sinking into a void.

As she and Edwin turned to face the guests, the roar of applause swelled around them, yet Isolde felt utterly alone. Her hand rested on Edwin's arm, her movements graceful, automatic, as they began to walk down the aisle together. But her gaze drifted past him, almost involuntarily, searching the faces in the crowd until her eyes found Lucien.

He stood at attention near the front, his hands clasped behind his back, every inch the loyal knight, yet his gaze was trained on her with an intensity that stole her breath. The applause and cheering faded, the world narrowing until it was only the two of them, suspended in this impossible moment.

In his eyes, she saw everything he could not say. There was pride, pain, and an unfathomable longing that mirrored her own. It was as though he were reaching out to her, silently offering the comfort she so desperately needed, even if he couldn't cross the physical distance between them.

Isolde's heart thundered, her grip on Edwin's arm tightening as she fought to keep her composure. She felt Lucien's gaze like a tender caress, a whisper of what might have been, and for a single heartbeat, she let herself believe that nothing else mattered but this—this impossible love held within a silent, fleeting glance.