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The two men embraced leaving Maria and Matthieu to stare at each other, taking in each’s appearance in silence, in weighted anticipation of what they were about to do.
‘You look...beautiful,’ he said, aware that his tone was guttural and hoping that it didn’t sound begrudging. Because somewhere deep within, he did feel that way. Strangely resentful that he didn’t deserve this. Deserve her. Deserve the child they carried. But Maria most definitely deserved more than he was able and willing to offer.
‘Thank you,’ she said, casting her eyes away from his as if she was embarrassed or flustered by his simple words.
He guided her into the building, Malcolm and David close behind them as they made their way towards the office where the registrar was waiting for them. Despite the almost ugly functional exterior of the building, the interior was a relief. The rich tones of whisky-coloured wood flooring soothed. Expensive, yet tasteful chairs filled the almost empty room, the focus of which was a beautiful mahogany table where the registrar and the officiant waited to greet them.
Matthieu felt oddly detached from proceedings he’d never thought he’d experience. In every one of his past encounters he’d ensured that the only thing that passed between the women who had shared his bed and himself was pleasure. Given and received—nothing more. Once they had left his life, he gave them little thought. Only that hadn’t been true of Maria. There hadn’t been an hour that had passed in between that night in Iondorra and the night she’d crashed back into his life with news that had changed everything, that he hadn’t thought of her. From the very first moments leaving her bed, he’d tasted her on his tongue, felt her skin beneath his, the echoes of her sighs and gentle laughter, haunting his nights.
Now, he cast a look over to where Maria sat in the corner of the room with the celebrant, presumably going over the same questions that he was currently answering to the registrar. His mind working automatically to supply the requisite information as his heart picked itself up and reached for her.
‘Are you ready?’
The question mocked him, but he nodded, swift and sure, knowing what must be done.
She deserved more.
He would give her everything he could, he promised. Not just because of their child. But because she deserved it. She had uprooted her entire life, placed it in his undeserving hands and no matter what the future brought them, he would make sure that she was protected.
‘We are gathered here today...’
* * *
Maria let the words wash over her. She had wondered how she’d feel, ever since agreeing to Matthieu’s outrageous proclamation that they would marry, and now that she was here, now that she stood before the registrar and officiant and they were saying the words that every young girl had dreamed of hearing as a child, she just didn’t know. She didn’t know how she felt. She had expected fear, but—she thought, resisting the urge to shake her head—that wasn’t what she felt. Defiance? No, not that either. Hesitation? Oddly, no. Not even that. Numb, she decided. Numb as the words brought her closer and closer to the moment she would be bound to Matthieu for ever.
She suddenly felt as if she’d left something behind. That she’d forgotten something vital, but couldn’t for the life of her think what it was. She frowned, then realised that the officiant had said something that required a response from her. Mistaking her lack of response for nerves, the officiant smiled and repeated the question.
‘Will you, Maria, take Matthieu to be your lawful wedded husband?’
No words of love in this perfunctory service, then. No honouring above all else. But she wasn’t doing this for herself. She was doing this for their child. There would be love, would be honouring above all else. There would be protection and security and...
‘I will.’
‘And will you, Matthieu, take Maria to be your lawful wedded wife?’
Finally Maria found the courage to look to Matthieu then, startled somewhat to find him gazing at her with an intensity that reminded her immediately of that night. In his eyes she saw the lake in Iondorra, she saw the stars that blanketed the night sky. She saw the deep pull of arousal in his eyes, hypnotic and unfathomable. And if her heart hurt, because for just a moment she saw how it could have been, she chided herself for wanting more.
‘I will.’
‘The rings?’
Rings. That was what she’d forgotten. She didn’t know a single jewellery maker who hadn’t spent hours pouring attention and passion into a creation that symbolised a couple’s love for each other. She had once thought that she might make her own and her future husband’s. There was a special part of her designs and sketches that, long ago, she’d thought she might use as the basis for what she would one day wear for the rest of her life. But the intensity of the last few weeks, the practicalities, had thrown that from her mind. And for a moment she was relieved. Because this was not what she’d wanted. Not really. While Matthieu reached to his pocket, she ran a hand over the lower part of her abdomen. The small, firm bump cradling her soon-to-be child.
She realised that Matthieu’s eyes had snagged on the movement, and hesitated just a second before he produced something from his pocket. He reached for her hand and held the ring in his fingers in such a way that she couldn’t see it until he had slipped it over her finger.
And she stared.
Stared and stared. Because in some impossible way it was perfect. As if he’d found what she wanted without her even knowing it. The silver band gave way to a circle of small diamonds encasing a beautifully cut shard of jet.
‘This is how I see us, Maria,’ he whispered to her. ‘Joined together, surrounding our child with love and security, with protection.’
The sincerity and certainty shining in his eyes settled about her, her heart aching with the want of love, but appeased by the promise he was offering her. Not of fairy tales of happy-ever-afters, not with offers of obscene wealth that meant nothing to her, not with lies of unfelt emotions, but a promise of everything he could and would do for her and her child. Their child.
‘I now declare you husband and wife.’
CHAPTER FIVE
MARIA BREATHED IN the cool scents of water and woods. She had been walking for twenty minutes towards Lake Lucerne, marvelling once again at the sheer breadth of acreage within Matthieu’s estate.
