Courtney closed her eyes, savoring the absolute rightness of Slayde’s embrace, the exquisite balm of being surrounded by those she loved, beckoned by a future that held naught but happiness. No other moment can ever be this perfect, she thought fervently. This over-whelming sense of joy was an incomparable, once-in-a-lifetime experience.
She was wrong.
Five days later, on her father’s arm, Courtney knew an even greater joy as, clad in exquisite yards of white and silver, she walked down the aisle of a small Devonshire chapel and, before God and man, became Mrs. Slayde Huntley.
The chapel was filled to capacity, the wedding attended by the entire Pembourne staff—including Rayburn, Oridge, Cutterton, and a swarm
of guards, all of whom were relaxed for the first time in ages, secure in the knowledge that, just this once, neither Courtney nor Aurora had any intention of bolting. At the head of the chapel were Lexley and Mr. Scollard, beaming from ear to ear and, of course, Aurora, her face aglow, her smile wrapping itself around Courtney as it declared them sisters.
Courtney’s heart swelled as she reached Slayde’s side, saw the pride and love reflected on his handsome face. He held out his hand to her, then paused, giving Arthur Johnston a reassuring look that told Courtney’s father all he needed to know—that his child would be loved and protected for the rest of her life. With an answering smile, her father squeezed Courtney’s arm and turned her over to the man she loved.
They exchanged vows, Slayde’s voice strong and sure, her own equally certain, their gazes locked as Slayde slid the gold band onto the fourth finger of her left hand.
“Two halves, now a far greater whole,” he murmured, brushing her lips with his.
“Far greater.” Tears shimmered on Courtney’s lashes. “Greater than all life’s obstacles combined.” She swallowed. “I love you, Slayde.”
Slayde’s eyes darkened and, defying protocol yet again, he framed Courtney’s face between his palms, lowered his mouth to hers for a deep, binding kiss. “God, I love you, Mrs. Huntley.”
As if on cue, the entire chapel rang with applause.
Chuckling, Slayde raised his head, capturing Courtney’s hand in his. “Come, love,” he said, “I believe our future awaits.”
With that, he guided his bride into the throng of well-wishers.
And the Huntley name lived on.