Her footsteps were slow at first. Wary. But then she forced her head up, looked down the aisle, and her eyes landed onhim.
The Duke looked especially dapper this morning in a well-tailored suit. His posture was straight, and he held his head high. But it was the look on his face that caused her to falter slightly.
It was not the cold, impassive look she had grown used to.
Rather, he seemed… awed. Even more so as she stepped forward and his hands gripped hers. And then, the faint hint of a smile.
All Matthew could do was stare at her.
Stare as she stepped through the door and then as she slowly walked down the aisle. And then she looked up, and her eyes met his. And everything else seemed to disappear.
His heart was racing. His palms were sweating as he stared at her.
She was… beautiful. Even more so than any other time he had seen her.
Her dark hair was pulled back, those blue eyes sparkling and seeming to stare straight into his soul.
The wedding gown she had selected fit her well, and she moved with a level of confidence that he was not accustomed to in women. Or rather, he was not accustomed to that level of confidence in anyone except perhaps Isabelle.
Lady Diana’s eyes seemed to bore right into his as she approached, and he was glad that nothing was expected of him at this moment. He was not sure he could have done anything save for taking her hands in his and dragging her up the last steps to the altar.
But even as the priest began to speak, nothing else seemed to matter. Nothing but… her.
“Never show emotion. Never show fear. Never show love or affection. A weak man gives in to his feelings. A weak man allows anyone to feel as though they have control over him.”
The words seemed to bounce around in his head, and he could practically hear his father sneering at him.
He had been five years old, bringing home a puppy with a broken leg that he’d found by the side of the road. His hands clenched and unclenched as he remembered the very painful lesson. And it hadn’t been the only one.
But right now, as Lady Diana stood before him, he struggled to focus on his father’s teaching.
“A man is strong. In all things, you must be the strongest. You must be the bravest. You must be the best.”
He tried to pull himself up straighter. To pull his shoulders back, to raise his head, to rein in his thoughts. He was strong. He was fearless. He was emotionless. But…
As he recited his vows, he still had eyes only for her, watching her eyes, and then her lips as she recited her own vows. And then it was over. And they were wed. Or rather, the priest was telling him that he may kiss his bride.
Matthew leaned forward almost subconsciously. His lips met hers for only the briefest of moments, but it felt like a bolt of lightning went through him at the touch. At the feel of her in his arms and the light pressure of her lips on his own. And then it was over, and he was leading her back down the aisle and out of the church.
It was only once he had helped her into the carriage that he felt able to draw in a deep breath, but still, his eyes were on her.
“Well…” She didn’t seem to know what else to say, simply staring at him.
Without thinking, he reached out to her, his hand very nearly brushing against the side of her face before he caught himself.
“My apologies, Duchess,” he managed, though the words were automatic, brought on by the forwardness of his action.
Or were his actions forward? After all, she was his wife now.
The thought of it was more than a little shocking. Though he had, of course, known that this would be the outcome of the day.
Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, a curious look on her face as though she wasn’t quite sure what to say or what to do. Though he could not blame her for that. Not when he was acting so strange.
“It’s quite all right, Your Grace,” she replied.
Matthew paused for a moment. She had always called him that. Every time they met, she addressed him by his title, but now…
“We are married now. It is appropriate for you to call me by my Christian name,” he informed her.
