Page 99 of My Hellion, My Heart
There was a knock at the door. “Are my two favorite princesses quite ready? The carriage awaits, and the sun will not slow its descent, not even for royalty.”
Irina laughed at Gray’s announcement. “Yet another unorthodox decision.”
“Yes,” Lana agreed as Jane rushed forward with a small spencer made entirely of lace and sheer silk. “Getting married at sunset does mark you as an eccentric, I’m afraid.”
She opened the door. “Normal people are boring,” Gray announced, extending his arm to Irina. He looked entirely handsome, even though he wasn’t in full evening dress. Black kits in the woods seemed a bit much, so everyone had been invited to wear something a little less formal. Even her own wedding gown was suitable for a ceremony in a chapel in the woods.
The small stone structure sat in a clearing on a ridge, not too far from Henry’s obstacle course, Irina had noted when he’d first shown her the site. It had been built by his ancestors, and though it had been kept up over time, it was not used often. Ivy had begun to creep over the stone and the stained-glass windows, but Henry had always loved the solitude of it, and when Irina had seen it, she’d fallen in love, as well.
The carriage took her, Lana, and Gray through town and onto Hartstone land, traveling as far as it could through a field to the base of a hill which was thickly covered with elms and yew trees. There, several footmen in livery waited with saddled horses and, to Irina and Lana’s surprise, two covered sedan chairs, each one set on two long poles.
“These poor men have to carry me all the way up that hill?” Lana said, grimacing. Gray helped her into one of the wicker sedan chairs.
“I will carry you myself if you complain. Now sit and relax and pretend you are Cleopatra.”
He kissed her quickly and then turned to help Irina, but she had already climbed into the chair. Though she could have easily climbed the hill to the chapel, the last thing she wanted was to catch the lace Jane had so painstakingly sewn onto the hem on brambles.
So, she and Lana were carried up the hill path, giggling at the ridiculousness of their modes of transport. Henry had thought of the sedan chairs, she was certain. Or perhaps Lady Langlevit. Together with Lady Dinsmore, she had thrown herself into the wedding plans the moment she’d arrived home, and considering the small guest list, the combined staffs at Stanton Park, Ferndale, and Hartstone, as well as the simple ceremony, things had come together easily and quickly.
Irina turned her face up to the dense canopy, where slivers of the brilliant sunset shone between the leaves. Henry had taken her to the chapel at this same time of day and the setting sun had come through the stained-glass windows so magnificently, Irina had decided to hold the ceremony at sunset instead of the more typical late morning or early afternoon. Now, as they approached the crest of the hill, where the trees thinned and there was a clearing of grass along the hill’s ridge, her stomach twisted into knots.
She wasn’t nervous; she was ready to be Henry’s wife. The knots were pure excitement. Tonight, she would be able to fall asleep beside him, and if they chose to stay in bed for days on end, that would be their prerogative. This was the beginning of everything. Irina placed a hand on her stomach and felt lighter than air.
The footmen, huffing with exertion, lowered the poles and set the chairs on the grass just outside the small chapel. There were murmuring voices echoing off the arched beam ceilings inside, but only Gray was there to help both her and Lana to the doors. Gray escorted Lana in first before coming back to escort Irina to the altar. A maid from Hartstone stood ready with a bouquet of roses for Irina, and once she’d taken them and slipped her arm in Gray’s, the doors to the chapel opened.
A hushed silence fell over the small crowd, and as the first notes of a single violin began to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D major, Irina’s eyes settled on the only man she had always loved. The only man she wouldeverlove.
Henry stood tall and straight and proper at the end of the aisle, his stance at complete odds with the expression in his eyes, a heated mix of love and desire and happiness. He saw no one but her, she was certain of it. As she walked toward him, and though the half dozen pews were filled, Irina saw no one but him.
He wore a dove gray kit with a cravat that matched the ivory of her gown, and his hair, combed into tousled waves, was lit to a golden hue by the honeyed sunlight. Jewel tones of sapphire and ruby and emerald cut through the chapel, creating a kaleidoscope of halcyon light over everything it touched.
The slowly building smile upon Henry’s lips coaxed her toward him, and when he finally reached for her hand, Irina trembled. As everyone turned to face forward again, the rustling of clothing echoed off the ceilings and the violin approached the close of the wedding march.
“My radiant countess,” he whispered in her ear.
“I’m not a countess quite yet, my lord.”
His lips brushed her ear, and as though without a thought to the chapel filled with people, kept them there. “You are already my wife, Irina. In my heart, you are mine. This is just ceremony.”
He pulled back, and she met his gaze. Even as intimate as they had been a handful of times, she had not yet seen so much passion and love in his eyes as she did now.
“In my heart, you have always been mine,” she whispered as the last strains of the violin’s canon ebbed.
He tucked her arm close to his ribs and turned them to face forward, toward the vicar, though his eyes remained on her. “Always,” he repeated.
And then the ceremony began.
It wasn’t until nearly midnight when Irina and Henry managed to escape the party at Hartstone and steal a few moments alone in the dark. There were fewer than twenty people in attendance, including their families, the Duke and Duchess of Bradburne, and the Earl and Countess of Kensington, and Irina knew they’d be noticed missing, but she doubted any of them would bother to be put out about it. They were married now, and newlyweds at that. They could slip out into the garden “for air” all they pleased.
Henry held her hand, something that he had been doing ever since they’d stood at the altar, repeating the vicar’s instructed words of love and devotion and loyalty, binding themselves to one another for the rest of their lives. He’d had at least one hand on her at all times since. A palm at the small of her back or cupping her elbow, fingers threaded through hers. When they had been physically parted, Irina had always been within his sight, and those eyes had held her just as possessively as his hands had.
Now, as they breathed in the sweet, chilled air, damp with a coming rainstorm, Irina leaned against him, their arms wrapped around one another as they walked away from the French doors leading inside to the revelry.
“Is it too much to hope for that they’ll all have departed by the time we return?” Henry murmured. Irina nudged him with her shoulder, but didn’t reprimand him. She secretly wished for an empty house as well. Lady Langlevit had already retired to her rooms, and they would not see her until morning, when they set off for Cumbria. There, they would spend the remaining summer months, visiting the distillery and planning out and constructing a new obstacle course in the woods surrounding that estate. It was something Henry had wanted to do for a while, and Irina got a thrill when he’d asked for her help designing it.
She leaned more heavily against him. Ahead, at the labyrinth’s entrance, there were wide globe lamps hanging from the same kind of poles that had carried their sedan chairs up the hill. Their feet seemed to be taking them in that direction. Perhaps it was exhaustion or pure contentedness, but Irina was surprised that her heart did not constrict with fear. She hated garden mazes or anything that reminded her of the twisting path at Henry’s Cumbria estate and the terrifying day she’d been kidnapped—for the first time. But now, with him at her side and more confidence in herself and her life than ever, the mouth of the maze didn’t faze her. It made her feel a bit giddy.
“I’m only glad we don’t have a ballroom full of London society awaiting us back there,” she said, her head resting against his shoulder.
