AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Belle swallowed. The priest’s voice droned on, but she could no longer hear a thing. She stared at the bible in his hand, willing herself away from where she now stood.
She imagined that she was sitting at the dining table of the Stanton household, listening to Julia sing under her breath. There was a book of poems in Belle’s lap, Lily standing next to her as her deft fingers ran through the strands of her hair. The room was filled with the smell of Anne’s cooking, Robert’s laughter echoing through the air.
And Stephen, always nearby. Always willing to help her, always rushing to her side whenever it seemed she needed him.
Stephen, with his broad smile and his sultry eyes and those marvelously large hands that knew how to be gentle with her.
If I keep thinking about him, my face is going to go absolutely red!
And yet, she couldn’t resist. She couldn't stop thinking about the last kiss they’d shared, how everything had seemed so possible in that moment. So perfect. There were no barriers between them, no lies. Only their lips fused together, passionate hands exploring the body, a love and trust that made it easy for her to give herself wholly to him.
A single tear slipped down her cheek. The priest faltered for a moment, but Belle didn’t look up to see if he noticed that she was crying. She didn’t bother to hide her sadness anymore, now that the wedding was well underway. She hung her head, biting her lip to keep most of her sobs at bay, not wanting to alarm anyone around her.
And then, the priest called for their vows. Belle quickly wiped her face dry as the Marquess of Winchfield turned to face her. She saw no awareness in his eyes, nothing that showed he knew how she was feeling. He simply went ahead with his vows as if nothing was amiss.
Belle didn’t want to hear it, but she couldn’t stop herself. She looked up at the Marquess and once again forced herself to come to terms with the fact that he would be her husband.
"Halt!”
Shocked gasps rose in up the air and everyone, including Belle, turned in the direction of the noise.
Her knees buckled when she saw who was approaching. His long legs ate up the distance with ease, his eyes resting solely on Belle. She squeezed the Marquess’ hand to keep her legs from giving way.
“Stephen?” she breathed.
Stephen came all the way to the pulpit. Belle couldn’t believe that he was here. And she most definitely couldn’t believe how he was dressed. She dragged her disbelieving eyes from the brown tailcoat he wore down to the tall leather boots, then back up to his face. He looked every bit like a lord.
She finally found her voice. “What are you doing here?”
Stephen took her other hand. His eyes pleaded with her, desperation pouring off him. “I couldn’t allow this to happen, Lady Belle,” he said, shocking her into stillness. “You simply cannot marry the Marquess.”
