Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,8
and she caught her breath and stopped.
Alderley tightened his grip.
“Do not disgrace me, girl.”
The devil’s eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed into a frown. His jaw gave a tic as if he clenched his teeth. Meggie bit her lip to control her fear and resumed walking. He continued to stare at her, and her skin tingled as if his gaze burned. But she swallowed her concern and focused her attention on his companion. Surely, he was the groom. The devil did not seem the type of man who’d be bested in a game of cards.
Or in anything.
The angel made no move.
The vicar coughed, and the angel nodded and stepped aside, leaving her alone, standing beside the devil.
Dear god!
She had to crane her neck to see him. He had resumed his original position, body stiff, staring over the vicar’s head, as if the whole ceremony bored him.
But he was not bored. His body vibrated with anger—shoulders stiff, arms by his sides, hands fisted.
She didn’t know what was more frightening—the fury he harbored or his ability to suppress it almost to invisibility.
And in a matter of moments, she would belong to him.
Chapter Five
As the vicar droned on, Dexter glanced at his wife.
Such a miserable-looking creature! What the devil had she to complain about? She was being lifted from poverty and illegitimacy.
He was the one with cause to be miserable.
But it wasn’t her fault. She was just a pawn in Alderley’s game, to best his enemy and win back his fortune.
Curse it! Dexter had been so diligent at feigning boredom that he’d missed most of what had been said, including his bride’s name.
She was speaking now. Her voice was softer than he’d expected—unlike the throaty rasps of the women in the village he’d grown up in.
The vicar resumed his speech, and Dexter glanced at her. She seemed to have withdrawn into herself as if she were trying to disappear. Were she capable of that, Dexter’s problems would be solved, and he could return to London with Oliver and enjoy a night’s hard drinking.
She clutched the posy in front of her, knuckles white as her fingers curled round the stems. Not the expensive hothouse orchids Elizabeth had always demanded, but a simple array of wildflowers and grasses procured from a hedgerow. She lifted her hand and caressed one of the blooms, her fingertips tracing an outline of one of the petals.
An almost unnoticeable gesture, but one which conveyed tenderness. Had Dexter possessed a heart, the simple act might have touched it.
But he didn’t. Hearts were for weaklings.
She lowered her hand again, and he glimpsed a darkening bruise on her wrist, not entirely concealed by the lace of her cuff. He cleared his throat, and her body stiffened. She moved the posy to hide the mark.
The chapel fell silent, and then the vicar closed his bible with a snap.
“Are we done?” Dexter asked.
The vicar nodded.
“Thank God. Then we can leave.”
He reached for his bride’s hand, then drew back, remembering the bruise.
“Follow me,” he growled.
He retraced his steps along the aisle, not bothering to look back. Soft footsteps followed him. At least she understood her vow of obedience. And the greater the distance he put between himself and the Alderleys, the better. With luck, he need never see Elizabeth or her father again.
Alderley stepped out of his pew and blocked Dexter’s path.
“Where are you going, Hart?” he asked.
“I’m anxious to return to London.”
“You must grace us with your presence at the hall,” Alderley replied, “for the wedding breakfast. My home is at your disposal—at least, for the next hour.”
“For what purpose?”
“Honor,” Alderley said. He lowered his voice. “Did you not demand it of me as part of our arrangement? I would not have you claim that I broke my word.”
“You sound reluctant, Father-in-law,” Dexter said.
Alderley flinched at the address, and Dexter smiled inwardly at the man’s discomfort. Alderley may have foisted his by-blow on him, but he’d forever suffer the indignation of their being related by marriage.
“Say what you like of me, Hart,” Alderley said, “but let it not be said that I was ungracious in victory.”
“Victory?”
Alderley’s lips thinned into a spiteful smile. “We both know you’ve secured the poor end of the bargain.”
Dexter’s bride said nothing. How could she display such stoicism? Or, perhaps, she’d weathered enough insults at Alderley’s hands to be rendered immune. Her fingers curled round her posy, and she moved closer to Dexter until their bodies almost touched.
He caught his breath at the onset of an instinctive need to protect her.