by Sara Bennett
Marissa started up the aisle on her father’s arm. Her pink bridal gown seemed to glow like mother of pearl, her dark hair loose about her shoulders beneath a simple lace veil. Her face shone with happiness, her dark eyes finding Valentine, as he stood in the light that poured through the arched windows.
She felt strangely calm.
The emotion had threatened to overwhelm her while she was preparing and then driving to the church, but now she was here, a feeling of tranquility came over her. This was the moment she would pledge herself to Valentine; nothing could go wrong now. They were about to embark on the greatest adventure of all.
When she reached him, he was smiling, his blue eyes brighter than she’d ever seen them. “Minx, you take my breath away,” he whispered, the words for her alone.
The vicar cleared his throat, beaming upon them, and began the service.
After a moment she felt Valentine stiffen. She glanced sideways at him, wondering what was wrong, and found his gaze fixed on something to the side, beyond where the professor stood with her dearest friends from Miss Debenham’s Finishing School.
“Valentine?”
His eyes widened. “It can’t be,” he breathed.
People had noticed now. There was a murmur behind them, and the vicar was stumbling a little over the familiar words.
He stepped past her, ignoring the shocked expression of the vicar and the exclamations of their guests. “Valentine?” she hissed, and followed. He reached a large vase of flowers on a plinth and leaned forward, his face almost hidden in the flowers. With a trembling hand he lifted one of the roses free, causing several others to be disarranged and tumble about his feet.
“I say, Kent, old chap,” Jasper said nervously, glancing around. “You are about to get married.”
“Valentine, don’t you think you should—” George began.
“Valentine?” Marissa put her hand on his arm.
But Valentine had turned to her and his face was ablaze. He took her hand and placed something in it. She looked down, confused, and saw that it was a rose. A rose the color of a Jerusalem sunrise, pink and gold and orange.
It took only a heartbeat for her to realize what this must be, what this must mean. Her eyes lifted in wonder to his.
“The Crusader’s Rose,” he said triumphantly. “I have found the Crusader’s Rose.”
The church erupted. Jasper was there, his hands shaking as he took the rose reverentially in his own hands, and then Lady Bethany was peering over their shoulders. It took some time for everyone to settle down. Eventually, Marissa was able to ask a question.
“But where has it come from?”
The vicar thought all the roses had come from gardens in the village and nearby area. Through a process of elimination they discovered this particular rose had come from Mrs. Horton’s garden, at the edge of the village.
As soon as he heard that, Valentine took Marissa’s hand in his, and they set off out of the church and along the village street, the congregation trailing after them. Marissa picked up her skirts, petals falling from her bouquet, while Valentine hurried along at her side. She didn’t consider refusing to go or asking him to postpone his search. The Crusader’s Rose had become as important to her as him, and it seemed right and proper that it should be found on this day.
Their day.
Mrs. Horton hadn’t come to watch the wedding. She was old and unable to walk very far, and—the vicar said—it was decided by her relatives to let her rest at home. But she was in her garden when they reached her cottage, using a cane to stay upright, as she busied herself tying back an unruly clematis.
She looked up, mouth ajar, as Lord Kent and his bride arrived at her gate and proceeded into her garden, followed by a crowd of guests.
“Mrs. Horton,” Valentine said, taking her hand. “Forgive our intrusion.”
“It isn’t an intrusion, my lord,” she replied. “I wasn’t expecting you, is all.”
Her sangfroid elicited a ripple of laughter.
“This rose,” he said, and he held up the Crusader’s Rose. “Is it yours, Mrs. Horton?”
She nodded. “Aye, it is. Over here, my lord. You can see it’s a fine strong bush. Likes a warm place, though. But if it’s happy it flowers on and on.”
Valentine stood staring at the rose bush, every inch of it covered in bright blooms. Marissa blinked back tears, knowing what he must be feeling, and managed a smile for the puzzled Mrs. Horton.
“Was this rose always in your garden?” she said.
“Goodness me, no, Your Ladyship! I was walking out by the manor one day—I was younger then, of course—and I spied it growing in a hedgerow. It was struggling there, but I liked the flowers, so I took a cutting and grew it myself. I hope you don’t mind. It didn’t belong to no one; it was just growing wild in the hedgerow.”
“Mind?” Valentine said. “Mrs. Horton, you are a wonderful, wonderful woman!”
She blushed bright red.
Unable to contain himself, Valentine grabbed hold of Marissa and swung her around, her wedding dress belling out.
It was decided to continue the wedding ceremony in Mrs. Horton’s garden, and it was there before the Crusader’s Rose that Valentine and Marissa made their vows and were declared husband and wife, while everyone watched on.
“So romantic,” murmured Marissa’s friends from Miss Debenham’s, as they wished her well. “You have found the perfect husband, even if he isn’t the one you began with…”
“As long as he’s the one I end with,” Marissa said.
She looked up and caught Valentine’s gaze, and knew that as nice as it was to have her friends here with her, she was looking forward to being alone with her new husband. Tomorrow they would set off on their honeymoon, just the two of them, and she couldn’t wait.
Epilogue
Bourbon
It was warm, far warmer than an English evening. The insects hummed in the trees, as Valentine and Marissa walked down the narrow path toward the sandy beach. This was their last evening. Tomorrow they would be setting off on the journey home to England and Abbey Thorne Manor, to take up their lives as a married couple.
Marissa had enjoyed their honeymoon but it was time to go home, and she was looking forward to it.
She found herself missing the old manor house and the people she’d come to know and love, as well as her own family. Lady Bethany had sent a letter to say she and Jasper were well and Jasper was pestering her to marry him.
But there was a reason that made her a little nervous about returning, a reason she hadn’t told Valentine yet. It was silly to doubt him, she knew that—she’d believed all her doubts were laid to rest. Perhaps it was because everything had been so perfect; she just didn’t want to spoil it.
Valentine was growing restless, too. He was talking about the Crusader’s Rose and how he meant to ensure that this time it remained in his family for many generations to come. Morris had written to say the cutting Mrs. Horton provided was growing strongly and would be ready for planting by the time he returned.
They slipped off their shoes and walked barefoot down to the edge of the sea. The water sparkled silver and gold, catching the setting sun and reflecting it back like thousands of precious stones.
“You’re very quiet, minx,” Valentine said quietly, his fingers entwining with hers.
She smiled at him, her dimple showing. “I was thinking how much I will miss our island.”
“We could always stay longer.”
She tried to read his face—did he mean it or was he trying to please her? She’d found that with Valentine it was always best to tell the truth. “Thank you, Valentine, but actually I am a little homesick.”
His shoulders relaxed in relief and he leaned forward to kiss her. “Me, too.”
They walked again, as the light faded. Lamps on fishermen’s boats winked out in the dark ocean and the breeze tasted salty against her lips. A wave came in, washing over their feet, and they stopped to enjoy the
sensation.
“Will it seem strange to you,” she began tentatively, “sharing your home with me? After so long doing very much as you wished, day after day?”
“My dearest girl, how can you ask such a thing? You were right when you said I was hiding from life before you came along. I was too cowardly to take a chance, in case I was hurt again. I’d lost all confidence. But you’ve healed me. I will always be grateful to you for taking me in hand.”
“Valentine, it is you who healed me,” she cried, reaching up to fling her arms about his neck.
He held her against him.
Her voice was a warm mumble against his neck. “I’m asking you such a thing because I am concerned you will not be pleased with my news, Valentine.”
He stilled, aware of all the things that could go wrong and how terrified he was of losing her. “What do you mean?”
She told him.
His heart was pounding in his chest. Slowly he let her slide back to the sand and, with a shaking hand, tilted back her face, brushing aside the wayward strands of dark hair. Her eyes were shining up at him, her mouth on the verge of a smile, but there was doubt, too, and the hint of fear.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice deep and husky. “For making me the most fortunate of men.”
“Babies cry, Valentine, and children can be noisy. And naughty—”
He laughed. “I know; I was both.”
Valentine knew with a fierce certainty that when his son, or daughter, brought a treasure for him to see, he would not send them away. He would never make his child feel unwanted as he had, long ago.
He took a deep breath and told her so.
His wife listened, and then she looked at him as if he was the most wonderful man in the world. Valentine gave her another hug, enjoying her love for him, before they set off along the beach again.
There were plans to be made, dreams to be dreamed, a baby to prepare for, but for now they said nothing, simply enjoying being together.
About the Author
SARA BENNETT has always had an interest in history, and to survive a series of mind-numbing jobs, she turned to writing historical romance. She lives in an old house with her husband and two children in the state of Victoria, Australia, where she tries to keep the house and garden tidy, but rarely succeeds—she’d rather be writing or reading.
You can write to her at www.sara-bennett.com
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Romances by Sara Bennett
A MOST SINFUL PROPOSAL
LED ASTRAY BY A RAKE
HER SECRET LOVER
A SEDUCTION IN SCARLET
MISTRESS OF SCANDAL
RULES OF PASSION
LESSONS IN SEDUCTION
KISSING THE BRIDE
BELOVED HIGHLANDER
ONCE HE LOVES
THE ROSE AND THE SHIELD
THE LILY AND THE SWORD
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A MOST SINFUL PROPOSAL. Copyright © 2010 by Sara Bennett. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © March 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-198993-3
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