Silence Is Golden (Storm and Silence 3)

‘…and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained. First, It was ordained for the procreation of children…’

Why, in God’s name, why, were my eyes once more drawn to his face at those words? Why was I suddenly imagining what he had looked like as a child? What a child of his would look like?

Forget about what it would look like! That annoying little voice inside me cut in. Imagine what a nasty little bloody tyrant it would be!

I wrenched my eyes away from his face again and tried my best to pull my fingers away, too - but to no avail. Once more, they inched closer.

‘…to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name. Secondly, It was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication…’

Blast, blast, blast! Why couldn’t I stop blushing? Blast!

‘…that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body.’

Right now I didn’t feel like an undefiled member of Christ’s body. I didn’t even feel as if I wanted to be undefiled, thank you very much. Cautiously, I sneaked a peek at Mr Ambrose again, to see if he was in the mood for some defiling.

‘Thirdly, It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity.’

I felt a sudden tugging in my chest. The desire that made my cheeks flame was still there, but over it, enveloping, overshadowing it, was another much more frightening feeling. A feeling that made me want to cross the rest of the distance between Mr Ambrose’s hand and mine. Not to feel how his smooth skin curved over the muscles of his hand and arm, but simply to hold his hand in mine and feel the warmth emanating from it.

‘…Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.’

Our hands moved again. No

w they were only fractions of an inch apart. Still, Mr Ambrose had not looked at me. He kept staring ahead, his face as unmoving, hard and perfect as that of an Ancient Greek statue. I honestly couldn’t say what my own face showed in that moment. I didn’t understand half of the emotions roiling in my chest.

‘Therefore if any man can shew any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forevermore be silent.’

And Mr Ambrose was silent. He was silent as stone as he moved his fingers the last few millimetres and interlaced them with mine. Around us, tumultuous cheers exploded and a choir started singing with angels’ voices. I heard nothing - only Silence. The silence of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. And among all the cheering faces, I saw only his.

And inside of me, a voice kept chanting: What is going on? What is going on? What the bloody hell is going on here?

‘Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?’

Ah, yes! A wedding was going on here. And not mine. I had to remember that, in spite of the wonderfully strong hand gripping my fingers. In spite of the tingling feeling dancing up my arm, temping me to step closer towards him.

The voice of the bridegroom rang out through the entire chapel, clear for all to hear: ‘I will!’

Mr Ambrose’s hand squeezed mine, tightly, and mine squeezed back without asking my brain for permission. My heart pounded, and suddenly, my chest felt indescribably warm.

Help! What’s happening to me?

Behind the Smile

‘Well, that went rather well, Mr Linton.’

‘Huh?’

I blinked. I was in a coach? How had I ended up in a coach? I could have sworn I was in a chapel a moment ago, holding the hand of-

‘Mr Linton? Mr Linton, are you listening to me?’

‘Eerr…well…’

Slowly, I raised my head, looking up into the face of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. It was emotionless as ever, hard and cold. No trace of what we had shared just a moment ago was visible in his features.

What you shared? You shared a bit of skin contact! He probably just did it to look good in front of Prince Albert, for whatever sinister plan he has cooked up in that ice-cold head of his!

Yes, that was undeniably the most logical explanation. But then…why did my hand continue to tingle as if it had spent an hour in a jar filled with enchanted fairy dust?