His wedding day.
He had not really expected to be nervous. How could one feel any anxieties when one was so entirely happy? But he knew what Hugo had meant about his neckcloth. And he could not stop himself from fearing that he would drop the wedding ring just when he was about to slide it onto Samantha’s finger. Indeed, he had woken up more than once during the night with just that fear. He would have to let someone else crawl around on hands and knees to retrieve it, and then he would have to go through the ordeal all over again.
“You are in pain, Ben?” Calvin asked, his voice full of concern.
“No.” Ben looked at him in some surprise, but he realized he had been rubbing his hands over his upper thighs. “Make sure I have a good grip on the ring, Cal, before you let it go.”
His brother grinned at him. “No one ever does drop it,” he said.
Now he was in for it for sure.
And then the Reverend Jenkins, gorgeously clad in his clerical robes, was telling the congregation to stand and the pipe organ was striking a chord.
It seemed to take Ben forever to push himself to his feet with his canes, but when he had done so, she was only just coming into sight at the end of the nave, on the arm of a proudly beaming Bevan.
Oh, Lord God, Ben thought with reverence rather than blasphemy, had there ever been such beauty? Could she possibly be his? His bride?
And then she looked along the nave, and her eyes came to rest upon him, and she smiled. He was quite unaware of the slight little sigh that rippled through the congregation as he smiled back.
And then she was beside him, and they both turned toward Mr. Jenkins.
“Dearly beloved,” he said in his lovely Welsh accent.
And just like that, all within a few minutes, the world changed.
They were married.
And not only did he not drop the ring, but he did not even think about the possibility as he took it in his hand and slid it over her finger while he spoke the words the clergyman recited ahead of him. He did not even think about how he was to manage without his canes for a few minutes.
They were married.
And then they signed the register and it was all done up right and tight.
They were man and wife.
They made their slow way back up the nave. Ben did it with one cane. Samantha’s hand was through his other arm, holding it firmly without appearing to do so. In her other hand she held her white muff. He felt no pain from the walk as he looked to left and right, acknowledging their guests with nods and smiles while Samantha did the same.
And then they were outside, and a chill wind cut at them and they turned their faces toward each other and laughed.
“Lady Harper,” he said.
“Absolutely,” she said. “Your friends are not holding what I think they are holding, are they?”
There were a number of villagers in the street beyond the church, come to see the show and cheer the bride and groom. But in their midst, sure enough, were Flavian and Ralph, who had obviously slipped out of the church early. Where they had found flowers in January, the Lord only knew. There must be a hothouse somewhere. But those were unmistakably flower petals clutched in their hands and then raining over bride and groom as they made their slow way to the carriage that was waiting to convey them back to Cartref.
“I think the answer was yes,” Ben said, laughing as he climbed in after Samantha. “And I think what is trailing behind the carriage is what I think it is too.”
The church bells were ringing. The crowd was cheering. The congregation was beginning to spill out of the church.
“Here,” Hugo said, “I’ll close the carriage door for you.”
Which he did—after tossing another great handful of petals inside.
Ben sat back on the seat and laughed. And he took Samantha’s hand in his as he turned to her.
“Happy?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Words are ridiculous sometimes, aren’t they?” he said.
She nodded again.
He dipped his head and kissed her while the crowd beyond the carriage cheered more loudly and there were a few piercing whistles.
The carriage lurched into motion.
Noisy motion as it dragged numerous pieces of metal hardware behind it.
“Ben,” Samantha said, gazing into his eyes, “I forgive you.”
“For?”
“For calling me woman,” she said, “and for uttering a whole arsenal of foul words in my hearing and Tramp’s.”
He smiled slowly at her.
“I suppose,” he said, “I have just married that wretch of a hound too, haven’t I?”
“For better or worse,” she assured him.
“Damned dog,” he said and kissed his wife somewhat more ruthlessly than he had done a minute before.