“Oh, if you want to exchange rings,” the priest said, “now’s the moment.”
Joss took a small box from his pocket. It held two identical wedding rings of three interlinked bands of white, yellow, and rose gold. He first slipped the smaller one onto her finger before fitting his own.
It was the sorriest excuse of a ceremony she’d seen. Joss needn’t have bothered. There was nothing sacred about this.
“Would you like to join us for a glass of champagne at the castle?” Joss asked the priest.
The unholy man rubbed his hands together. “No thanks.” He was already making his way to the door. “I still have a long way home.”
“Need a ride?” Joss asked.
“My car is parked at the back of the castle,” he called before exiting into the night.
“Unbelievable,” Clelia said, her voice shaking a little. “How did you pull that one off?”
“Family tradition.”
“Did all your ancestors drag their wives here against their wills?”
“Arranged marriages,” he said in a clipped tone. Gripping her elbow, he steered her to the door. “Wait here.” He disappeared into the room where she’d dressed and reappeared with her clothes. After helping her into the coat, he bundled the dress under his arm. “You’ll feel better when you’ve eaten.”
As if food could take away everything that was wrong.
They made their way back into the dark forest, Joss’s arm around her waist, presumably to keep her from stumbling.
“That’s why you ran ahead,” she said, “to make sure the priest was there.”
“And to check on the setup.”
Hurt constricted her throat. “I see.”
He stopped. “You don’t.”
She waited for him to continue.
“If I’d asked, you wouldn’t have said yes.”
“That simple, huh?”
He continued walking, pulling her behind him. “Yes.”
She trudged after him, her thoughts and feelings a mess.
When they exited the forest after the short walk, the night felt even colder. The castle stretched before them like an image of doom, not even the light shining from the windows adding warmth to the picture.
Their footsteps crunched over the gravel and then echoed on the steps leading to the entrance.
In front of the wooden door, Joss paused. “Welcome to your new home.”
She stared up at the towers framing the moon between them. “It’s not my home.”
Instead of answering, he slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back.
“What are you doing?” she cried out.
“Carrying you over the threshold. Isn’t that how it’s done?”
She didn’t want any more of his meaningless traditions. “Put me down.”
Opening the door with the hand in which he still clutched her dress, he carried her into a large reception hall. His footsteps echoed in the hollow space. Empty of furniture, it was cold and gray. Light from candles that were fitted into holders on the walls bounced off the stone. He put her down and kicked the door shut. When he took her hand and led her to a spiral staircase, her heartbeat picked up. This was the moment Joss had been holding out for—the moment they consummated this marriage.
“Why?” she said, tugging on his hand as he all but dragged her up the stairs. “You didn’t have to marry me.”
He stopped, staring down at her with a dark expression. “It was the only way of keeping you safe.”
“Safe from—” She wanted to ask who, but then it hit her. From his team.
Would Cain truly not kill Joss’s wife? She wasn’t so sure a title alone could protect her.
They continued their ascent, exiting into a narrow hallway on the first floor illuminated by more candles. The inside smelled of damp, candlewax, and the sulphur of matches. He let her hand go, testing to see if she’d follow. What choice did she have? Where was she going to go? The woods were unsafe and he’d easily catch her if she tried to make it somewhere on foot by road.
He walked ahead, glancing back at her every now and then, his face tense as if he expected her to run at any moment. There was one way only, and that was forward. As much as she dreaded and feared what lay ahead, they had to finish this. That was what Joss had said. After that, she’d bide her time. She’d find a way. She had to believe that.
At the end of the hallway, he paused in front of a big door. She slowed her steps, reluctant to reach that destination, but eventually ran out of hallway. He waited quietly until she’d caught up before he opened the door.
Glancing inside, her breath caught. The bedroom was the size of a hall, fitted with a four-poster bed complete with velvet curtains. Except for an armoire, the bed, and a chest standing at the foot end, there was no other furniture. Instead flowers took up almost all of the space. Bunches of flowers shaped like bells hung from the walls, reaching all the way from the ceiling to the floor. Exotic looking, fragrant white lilies were arranged in vases on the floor. In between the arrangements stood thick, yellow candles that cast a warm glow over the room. Fires burned in two fireplaces, one on each side of the hall, providing ample warmth and the pleasant music that fires made.
He motioned for her to enter.
With nowhere else to go and no other choice, she stepped over the threshold and walked to the bed. It was covered with plush cushions and soft looking throws.
“You look so small against the backdrop of that bed,” he said behind her.
She jumped, her nerves all over the place.
“This is the bed where my ancestors consummated their marriages. It seemed fitting to bring you here.”
Those words breathed a layer of frost over her heart. They meant he was finally embracing the heritage he’d refused to acknowledge before, a heritage that reminded him of his difficult past. He’d never find peace if he couldn’t accept that past. What it meant for her was something entirely different. She’d never be able to make peace with the future he
