In His Eyes(85)

Ella glanced at him, noticing he didn’t carry the cane. “I did not flee.” She inwardly groaned at the petulance in her tone.

The corners of his mouth twitched, and she had the suspicion he tried to suppress a smile. Really, what did he find so amusing each time she got angry?

Westley reached into his pocket. “I was going to offer you this, but you did not give me the chance.”

He uncurled his fingers and Ella stepped closer. “It’s a brooch.”

“It was my mother’s,” he said softly, his words almost reverent.

Ella leaned closer. Made of gold, the brooch had one large emerald in the center with several smaller ones dangling underneath. The piece probably cost as much as one of Papa’s good stallions.

Opal clasped her hands. “Oh! How beautiful!”

Ella stepped back. “I cannot accept that. It’s far too priceless.”

Westley frowned. “You are my bride, so I’m afraid I must insist.”

“But….” His bride. If only that were true.

He stared at her, the intensity of his gaze making her insides quiver. “Besides, once we say the vows, will not all of what is mine also be yours as well?”

Ella bit her lip. She could not refute such a claim. “Thank you. It is a beautiful and most thoughtful gift, and I shall wear it proudly.”

Westley stepped close and pinned it at her throat, his scent of rain and leather battering her already frayed nerves. Why did this man have to affect her so? Wouldn’t this be much easier if she felt nothing for him—the way he felt nothing for her?

He stepped back and smiled, his white teeth stark against his sun kissed skin. “There. You look wonderful.”

Ella tried to return the gesture, but found that her lips refused. Westley’s jaw tightened, and he turned toward the man in a Federal uniform that Ella had forgotten. He and Mrs. Martin had both ceased their conversation and were watching Ella and Westley.

Westley swept his arm out toward Ella. “Lieutenant Hays, may I introduce my bride, Miss Eleanor Whitaker.”

Ella slid her gaze to the stout man with a friendly face and warm eyes.

He bowed politely. “A pleasure to meet you, miss.”

Ella inclined her head. “Thank you for agreeing to come out today, sir.”

The man smiled, creating dimples in his cheeks. “It is my pleasure. If you are ready, then we shall proceed with the service.”

The Martin women took seats, and Ella noticed Sibby and Basil slip just inside the door and press themselves up against the wall. Westley noticed them, too, and smiled even as Mrs. Martin scowled.

Ella felt as though she were outside of herself as she came to stand in front of the chaplain. As a child, this had not been what she’d dreamed of. She glanced up at Westley. Though she must admit, never had she envisioned a better looking groom. Ella shoved the thought aside and focused on the minister as he opened a worn Bible and began to read a portion of one of Paul’s epistles to the Corinthians.

As he intoned on about the virtues of love, Ella couldn’t help the bitterness that began to take root. Would they have patience and kindness without love? Would they believe all things and endure all things without the binding moorings love provided? Tears burned in her eyes, and she had to force her lids to stay open so that they would dry up and not betray her by sliding down her face.

“Do you, Major Remington, take this woman to be your wedded wife? Do you promise to honor her, cherish her, and keep her under your protection for all the days of your life?”

Westley pulled something from the interior pocket of his jacket. Questions danced in his eyes. She glanced down at the ring in his hand and watched as he slid it onto her finger. “I do.”

The chaplain turned his attention to Ella. “And do you, Miss Eleanor Whitaker, take Major Remington to be your husband, to honor him, respect him, and have none other beside him?”

Ella tightened her hand to keep the ring that was too big from slipping from her finger. Why did Westley’s vows not include a mention of faithfulness as hers did? Perhaps because he had no intentions of making such a promise.

For Lee. “I do.”

Something flickered in Westley’s eyes that she could not understand.

“Then by the power vested in me by the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and by the Army of the United States of America, I now pronounce you Major and Mrs. Remington.”

Westley grinned, and Ella bit her lip.

“You may kiss your bride now, sir.”

Ella’s heart lurched. He wouldn’t do that, would he? They were to wed in name only….

But even as the thought flittered in her mind, he stepped closer. One heartbeat, and his hand cupped her cheek. Another, and his face hovered over hers. Ella tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. She ran her tongue over her lips to moisten them, and saw his gaze follow her movements.

His pupils got larger, and then before she could move, his lips gently brushed hers. Soft, like a delicate whisper, and chaste, as it should be for a sham of a marriage. Ella felt herself relax, and her eyelids flutter closed.

Then he pressed closer, and Ella sensed something she had not known before. Something wild and beautiful. Wanting to grasp what caused this feeling of flight, she pressed her lips back against his and he groaned, slipping his other hand to the small of her back and pulling her up against him.