Captive of Sin - Page 62

Since then, their journey’s speed had astonished Charis. The elements conspired to ensure that her wedding met no delay. A cowardly part of her wanted the voyage to last forever.

She brushed aside windblown strands from her tightly coiled braids and glanced back at Gideon. He stood at the helm like a pirate. Like Black Jack. His hair blew wildly around his face. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, and his white shirt billowed in the breeze. He looked happier and more at home than she’d ever seen him.

At his side stood Tulliver; William sat near the open vessel’s stern. The two men would take the boat back to Penrhyn after the wedding.

Gideon’s ease with the ship had surprised her. Although of course it shouldn’t have. He’d grown up on the coast, and the blood of Black Jack Trevithick flowed in his veins.

Was there anything he couldn’t do?

Oh, yes, he couldn’t bring himself to live with his wife, could he?

The rancorous thought made her turn to watch the approach of the dock. It should pour with rain to match her mood. But the sky was blue, and the waves sparkled and danced in the sunlight. It was still afternoon. Plenty of time left to get married today.

Then she’d have to make sense of the rest of her life.

God help her.

Charis stood dazedly beside Gideon while a plump-cheeked vicar droned the words of the marriage service.

Gideon was dressed in the height of fashion in his dark blue coat. He looked like any girl’s dream prince. Tall, handsome, openly solicitous for his young bride’s welfare. Next to him, Charis felt like a beggar maid in Dorcas’s cheap pink gown and straw bonnet with its matching ribbons. Heaven knew what the clergyman made of such an ill-matched pair.

In her gloved hands, she clutched

a ragged bunch of flowers. To her astonishment, Tulliver had pressed the bouquet on her just before the vicar arrived at their hotel rooms.

The unexpected kindness had come close to shattering the numbness that had possessed her since she’d stepped off the boat. She’d acted like an automaton all afternoon, hardly speaking while Gideon found lodgings and arranged the wedding. If such a sad, shabby event deserved that festive name.

She couldn’t let herself think or feel. If she did, she’d break down and cry. She refused to humiliate herself. Nor, more importantly, would she humiliate the man who made her his wife so much against his inclination.

“The ring?”

Would Gideon have remembered a ring? What they did today made a mockery of such a symbol of eternal love.

“Charis?” Gideon prompted.

She raised her eyes from her bouquet, sweet freesias that wouldn’t grow on the mainland for weeks yet. Gideon extended his hand. Automatically, she shifted her flowers to her right hand and offered her left.

“Your glove?” he said.

She looked around for someone to hold her flowers, but neither William nor Tulliver noticed. Gideon’s lips took on a flat line, then with quick efficiency she could only read as distaste, he stripped away the white lace glove that had belonged to his mother.

His hands shook as he roughly shoved a plain gold ring onto her finger.

It was done. She was married.

Forever linked to this difficult, brilliant, enigmatic, wonderful man.

If only he cared for her, this would be the happiest day of her life. It wouldn’t matter that her only witnesses were as close to strangers as made no difference. Or that she was dressed like a milkmaid.

But he didn’t care for her.

The knowledge pressed down on her heart like a huge stone.

“You may kiss the bride, Sir Gideon,” the vicar said with a heartiness that grated. Everything grated at this moment. Even her own hopeless longing. Especially her own hopeless longing. “A bonny bride she is at that. Felicitations to you both and wishing you many bouncing babes, Lady Trevithick.”

Charis bit the side of her cheek to stop herself snapping at the man. His good wishes made her want to scream. If she had any bouncing babes, they wouldn’t be Gideon’s. They’d be a betrayal of every word she’d just spoken.

She waited for Gideon to give the man the set-down he invited. Instead, her new husband caught her arm before she turned away. “I’ll be delighted to kiss my bride.”

Tags: Anna Campbell Historical
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