When a maid of honor to the Queen is rescued by a handsome and contentious pirate, she has to spend three days aboard his ship before returning to court. But is three days time long enough to truly get to know someone? And is English court as diffic...
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While Queen Elizabeth was a proud Protestant, many Catholics remained in England, including the Wright family, meaning Celia's partaking in premarital sex was undoubtedly deemed sinful, but no one needed to know that.
Harry, also a devout Catholic, met Celia at a small church that overlooked the sea. The priest was paid beforehand, and Isabel kept her promise in agreeing to be the witness.
The two sisters stood beside the priest at the alter in front of a glittering cross that hung from the high ceiling. Celia wore a pale blue dress, the pastel color bringing out the hue in her eyes. Her red curls swayed against her back, flowers of white entwined within them to give her the image of purity and innocence.
The door flew open, a gust of the sea wind stinging their eyes, and Harry appeared. The same wooden cross pendant hung from his neck, peaking through the low-cut, satin shirt he wore. He smiled at the sight of Celia, her features shining in the sunlight from the stained glass window behind her, and sauntered over. Isabel stepped to the side to allow the ceremony to begin.
Father Martin agreed to a swift and short ceremony; a small reading from the Bible, the exchanging of vows and rings. The few words were repeated by Celia and Harry, followed by a silver ring being slid onto her left hand. Before either of them knew it, their lips were attached in a kiss, sealing the deal.
Celia smiled against Harry's lips, eventually pulling away from the comfort they brought her to thank the priest. He only nodded and retreated to another room, leaving Celia alone with her sister and new husband. Harry took her small hand in his own, her heart soaring at the action, and led them out of the church.
"Give me a moment with my sister," she said softly into his ear.
He nodded, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek before walking away from the two women. Isabel stood silently by the entrance of the church, her hands folded just above her navel.
"Thank you for coming," Celia said, stepping closer to her sister.
"Anything for you," Isabel replied. "Congratulations. I wish nothing but the best for you."
"I appreciate that," she responded. "And you should expect that I wish the same for you." Isabel nodded. "Which is why I ask that you stay away from James."
"Lord Berkeley?" Isabel asked. "So, you two are well enough acquainted after one evening that you have thrown formalities to the wind?" Celia rolled her eyes. "I suppose now that you have taken care of your little problem by marrying the father of your unborn child, you hope to keep Lord Berkeley to yourself for fun on the side."
"Good Lord, Izzy, listen to yourself," Celia said.
"No, you listen!" Isabel shouted. "You return to court with a handsome man on your arm, somehow earn the Queen's trust and respect out of nowhere, are able to conceive a child without trying, and gain a proposal from a man above your station. And yet, you play the victim."
