After the Storm

Wedding (Part 2)

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this company, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony..."

I tuned out the balding old man's lengthy speech and focused my attention on the tyrant I was about to swear my life and devotion to.

I must be off my rocker!

You can run now, a nasty little voice whispered at the back of my mind. What if he stops loving you? What if he gets tired of you and decides to leave with another woman? What are you going to do then?

Ambrose's gaze seemed to intesify, turning from downright chilly to something that looked suspiciously like hunger. They seemed to heat up as they engulfed my very being.

Did you know that extreme cold and extreme hot feel the same? That must have been why I couldn't differentiate between whether his gaze was freezing or burning my core.

At that moment, in spite of his general lack of facial movements, I never felt more sure about my decision. A gargantuan portion of my conscience feared the unknown, but deep deep deep, very deep down, I was certain that I wouldn't regret marrying this stone-cold bastard.

I must be bloody mad!

But all the best people are crazy.

"Rikkard, will thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

His gaze smouldered. "I will."

"Lilly, will thou have this Man to thy wedded husband, to live together ... keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

I returned a gaze that I hoped was just as intense as Ambrose's. "I will."

The ceremony progressed and Ambrose slid the simple but elegant gold ring onto my fourth finger. This time it wasn't rented. It wasn't an act to help catch bandits. It wasn't fake. This was real, authentic and not a silly drunken dream.

My heartbeat sped up to the rate of a hummingbird's wing flutters. I still couldn't believe that I was getting married for real to the meanest but most handsome leading financers in Britain.

Ambrose recited his troth to me then it was my turn. The priest opened his mouth to say the lines for me to repeat but I beat him to it. I had my own brilliant plan. Call it an inside joke if you will.

"I vow to be your faithful partner, Rikkard Ambrose, in sickness and in health, in good times in bad, in happiness in sadness, and even when you behave like a bloody arrogant idiot!"

The whole chapel gasped and the priest looked like he was ready to wash my mouth out with holy water. But I barrelled on.

"I promise to hate," I announced,  "and love" I added on an afterthought, "you unconditionally, to support you in your aspirations as long as you pay me for it, and to honour and respect you as long as I get a free day off every week. This - is -" I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him roughly towards me. "my - solemn - vow!"

Something dark flashed in his eyes, sending bolts of electricity across my body.

"How moving." He murmured. "However Miss Linton, as you can see, we are not in the desert on the brink of death."

"Neither are we in a storm of 0.0024801 millimetre sized pebbles." I reminded him.

"0.0024803." He corrected.

Blast him and his perfect memory.

We stared at each other for an undefined period of time. Our faces were just inches away and a flurry of emotions swirled like a sandstorm between us as everyone observed with bated breath. The attendees all knew of my working relationship with Ambrose but we rarely spoke of it. Maybe that was why they seemed shell-shocked by my inspirational speech.