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Authors: Eileen Dreyer
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grip on her, she would have disgraced herself by bolting right down the cathedral aisle.
For in that fleeting moment of honesty, she had seen her future.
“For as much as Diccan and Grace have consented together in holy wedlock,” the archbishop intoned, his hand over their joined
ones.
No
! Grace thought wildly.
He’ll destroy me.
“… I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.”
Too late. She saw it in Diccan’s eyes. She heard in her own heartbeat, surely the only sound in the stark silence of the cathedral.
“Amen.”
Grace wanted to pull away. She wanted to close her eyes, as if it would help her escape the inescapable. She wanted anything
but the bleak acknowledgment in her new husband’s eyes.
And then from behind her came Harry’s voice. “Well, kiss her, you clunch!”
And Diccan, with a wry smile for his audience, bent to kiss her. She knew he hated it. How could he not? But how could he
know that it was her first kiss? And oh, it was a kiss a maiden could dream of, gentle and slow and sweet. It was the kiss
that sealed Grace’s fate, for the warmth of it settled too deeply into her heart for her to ever let it go.
“Well, wife,” Diccan whispered against her ear, “shall we greet our loyal supporters?”
She could do naught but nod, so he bowed to the bishops and turned her down the aisle.
“No,” she suddenly said, seeing all the steps she wouldhave to take. They had come in by the side door. Now Diccan pointed her toward the massive doors that had been opened at the
far end of the great nave, spilling light along the long, dark aisle. Grace realized she would have to make a painful, lurching
progress all the way to the door. “Can’t we go back out the side?”
Diccan held more tightly onto her hand. “And disappoint your Grenadiers? I believe they’re waiting to honor you.”
She looked over to see that the choir was empty. Only Kate and a man Grace suspected to be Diccan’s valet occupied the chairs
in the presbytery. She wished with all her heart that she could have had all her friends here to support her, Olivia and Lady
Bea and Breege and Sean Harper. But Olivia was in Sussex, and Lady Bea was waiting at Kate’s home. Even Breege and Sean weren’t
there, because she had sent them on to Longbridge to prepare it for her.
She wouldn’t need it done now, of course. Her new husband would probably tell her that she wouldn’t need her home, or a one-legged
Irish ex-regimental sergeant and his big, loud wife. And God alone knew what he would think of her cook.
She would have quite enough time to deal with that later. Right now she had to focus on a successful exit. Laying her hand
on Diccan’s arm, she turned toward the door. She was ungainly, and her knee hurt. She tried to ignore both. Her attention
fixed on that great, gaping door four or five miles away, she limped down stairs worn hollow by generations of pilgrims’ feet
and started down the aisle.
“A smile might be in order,” Diccan reminded her as he guided her past the ornately carved choir screen into the soaring nave.
She did her best, even though she knew it looked likea rictus. She was shivering now, and decided to blame it on the cold. The church seemed to expand around her, the shadows
whispering its magnificence, the great west door a mile away. She was sure it must be raining. It seemed only fitting.
And then she and Diccan stepped through the great doors into the clearing afternoon, and she saw where her Grenadiers had
gone. They were lined up down the steps, five officers on either side at full attention, Guards and Hussars, Dragoons and
Riflemen. The minute they saw her, the order was barked, and they swept up their swords to form an arch. Harry even called
for three huzzahs.
Beyond them, a crowd had gathered in the yard, attracted by the ceremony. Grace barely saw them. She saw only her
For in that fleeting moment of honesty, she had seen her future.
“For as much as Diccan and Grace have consented together in holy wedlock,” the archbishop intoned, his hand over their joined
ones.
No
! Grace thought wildly.
He’ll destroy me.
“… I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.”
Too late. She saw it in Diccan’s eyes. She heard in her own heartbeat, surely the only sound in the stark silence of the cathedral.
“Amen.”
Grace wanted to pull away. She wanted to close her eyes, as if it would help her escape the inescapable. She wanted anything
but the bleak acknowledgment in her new husband’s eyes.
And then from behind her came Harry’s voice. “Well, kiss her, you clunch!”
And Diccan, with a wry smile for his audience, bent to kiss her. She knew he hated it. How could he not? But how could he
know that it was her first kiss? And oh, it was a kiss a maiden could dream of, gentle and slow and sweet. It was the kiss
that sealed Grace’s fate, for the warmth of it settled too deeply into her heart for her to ever let it go.
“Well, wife,” Diccan whispered against her ear, “shall we greet our loyal supporters?”
She could do naught but nod, so he bowed to the bishops and turned her down the aisle.
“No,” she suddenly said, seeing all the steps she wouldhave to take. They had come in by the side door. Now Diccan pointed her toward the massive doors that had been opened at the
far end of the great nave, spilling light along the long, dark aisle. Grace realized she would have to make a painful, lurching
progress all the way to the door. “Can’t we go back out the side?”
Diccan held more tightly onto her hand. “And disappoint your Grenadiers? I believe they’re waiting to honor you.”
She looked over to see that the choir was empty. Only Kate and a man Grace suspected to be Diccan’s valet occupied the chairs
in the presbytery. She wished with all her heart that she could have had all her friends here to support her, Olivia and Lady
Bea and Breege and Sean Harper. But Olivia was in Sussex, and Lady Bea was waiting at Kate’s home. Even Breege and Sean weren’t
there, because she had sent them on to Longbridge to prepare it for her.
She wouldn’t need it done now, of course. Her new husband would probably tell her that she wouldn’t need her home, or a one-legged
Irish ex-regimental sergeant and his big, loud wife. And God alone knew what he would think of her cook.
She would have quite enough time to deal with that later. Right now she had to focus on a successful exit. Laying her hand
on Diccan’s arm, she turned toward the door. She was ungainly, and her knee hurt. She tried to ignore both. Her attention
fixed on that great, gaping door four or five miles away, she limped down stairs worn hollow by generations of pilgrims’ feet
and started down the aisle.
“A smile might be in order,” Diccan reminded her as he guided her past the ornately carved choir screen into the soaring nave.
She did her best, even though she knew it looked likea rictus. She was shivering now, and decided to blame it on the cold. The church seemed to expand around her, the shadows
whispering its magnificence, the great west door a mile away. She was sure it must be raining. It seemed only fitting.
And then she and Diccan stepped through the great doors into the clearing afternoon, and she saw where her Grenadiers had
gone. They were lined up down the steps, five officers on either side at full attention, Guards and Hussars, Dragoons and
Riflemen. The minute they saw her, the order was barked, and they swept up their swords to form an arch. Harry even called
for three huzzahs.
Beyond them, a crowd had gathered in the yard, attracted by the ceremony. Grace barely saw them. She saw only her
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