“Which brings me to what I hope will be the day’s grand finale.” Taking her left hand in his, he knelt to the ground.
While there was a collective gasp from those around the table, Sarah’s breath halted in her throat as Alex reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a ring. She vaguely heard Michael whisper, “Mom, what’s Alex doing?” and Ann’s “shhh” in response.
“Sweet, Sarah. ‘When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.’ I didn’t realize it, but I’d been waiting my whole life for you. And now that I’ve found you, I can’t let you go. Marry me?”
Sarah felt a jumble of sensations at once: elation, fear, shock, even embarrassment, because everyone was looking at her, holding their breath, waiting for her answer, especially Alex.
All of these emotions passed in a split second, but the one that passed the quickest was fear. She cut her eyes to her father. He beamed, tears sparkling in his eyes.
Sarah inhaled slowly. “Alex, I never thought it was possible to be this happy, but you’ve shown me so many astonishing possibilities that I don’t know why I should be surprised by that one. Yes, I will marry you,” she whispered. “Yes!”
An elated, and relieved, Alex slid the ring onto her finger, kissing it before releasing her hand and pulling her to her feet for a tender kiss.
Everyone erupted into applause, and promptly formed a group hug around the two of them.
“This calls for a toast,” Rob said as he headed for the kitchen. “I thought I saw some champagne in the fridge . . .”
Michael came up and asked Alex if he had to call him Lord Rutherford. Lily exclaimed that she couldn’t wait to tell her friends that she had not only a real-life earl, but a movie star in her family now.
Kate and Eliza were very grown-up in their congratulations to Sarah, a little shy in their congratulations to Alex. Mark slapped Alex on the shoulder and shook his hand. The Admiral proudly stood back and watched the whole scene as if he had orchestrated it.
Ann and Becca cried when they hugged Sarah, before asking to see the ring, a gorgeous oval amethyst set in platinum, flanked by two diamond trillions.
“Get you! A countess!” Ann curtseyed, eyes sparkling.
A nervous flutter briefly unsettled her at that thought, but she extinguished it just as quickly as it came.
“That has to be the most romantic proposal I’ve ever seen,” Ann exclaimed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, “not that I’ve seen that many . . .”
“Oh honey,” Becca said, “I’m so happy for you both. I’ve never seen you look more contented. He’s good for you, but I’ve no doubt that you’ve each found your soul mate in the other.”
“Yes,” Sarah whispered, looking at Alex’s handsome face amid the rest of her family and friends. “I guess soul mates really do exist.”
Epilogue
While Ann put the finishing touches on her hair, Sarah took the opportunity to reflect on the past two years. Her life had changed immeasurably in that time. Those two years weren’t without their wrong turns, potholes, and seemingly dead ends, but she’d gone from being an unhappy woman uncertain of her future, her career, and more importantly her love life, to a woman whose life was on a path she could only have dreamed of.
Not only was she happier than she’d ever been in her life, she was more certain than she’d ever been in her life that what she was doing was right.
The movie was scheduled for release next month, she was halfway through her second book, and Alex was already talking about the movie. They’d agreed they would divide their time among her house in Florida, his flat in London, and Rutherford.
“How’s that look?” Ann asked, still fingering a curl into place. She’d pulled front sections of Sarah’s hair up and piled it into a mass of curls at the crown of her head, letting the rest fall down her back in a cascade of gentle waves, leaving a few tendrils to frame her face.
Becca walked up handing Ann a treasured sterling silver hair comb that had been their mother’s. Ann placed the rhinestone starburst in her hair to the right of her crown.
“The perfect final touch,” Becca said, her eyes welling with tears as she caught Sarah’s eye in the mirror.
“Don’t . . . you’ll make me cry.” Sarah smiled, taking her hand.
“Not so fast.” Ann held out a lovely white leather box. “This is from Alex . . . his wedding gift to you.”
Sarah took the box, hands trembling, and opening the lid found a strand of pearls from which hung a large tear drop amethyst pendant accompanied by matching amethyst tear drop earrings. There was a collective gasp from the three of them.
“They’re magnificent,” Sarah breathed. “Becca, would you put these on for me?” she asked, handing the strand to her. Becca fastened the necklace around her neck while Sarah put on the earrings.
“The amethyst matches your engagement ring,” Ann said.
“Yes. Alex likes me best in purple.” She didn’t elaborate on the reason he loved her in purple: it was the color of the dress she wore when we went to Stratford-Upon-Avon, the night he said he fell in love with her.
There was a polite knock on the door, and then Lady Clara popped her head in. “Sarah? Oh gracious. You aren’t even dressed yet. You must move along my dear, the ceremony is about to start.”
“Yes, m’lady,” Sarah said, using the nickname she’d chosen for her whenever she scolded her. “I’ll only be a moment, nothing left but the dress.”
Lady Clara left the room with a promise to return if Sarah wasn’t out in five minutes.
Ann had already gone to the closet to retrieve the dress, a simple unembellished silk chiffon in ivory cut in a Grecian style. Stepping into it, the whisper of the cool satin under-slip across Sarah’s skin raised goose bumps.
Becca buttoned the long row of covered buttons down the back, while Ann picked up the bouquet of Clara Louise roses, a pale lilac-colored rose her husband had named in her honor.
Sarah turned once more to look at her reflection. The dress’s lovely deep v-neck framed the pearls beautifully. The empire-waist gave way to a chiffon skirt that fell to the floor like a cloud, her ivory satin-encased toes peeping out from underneath.
“Oh, Sarah. You look breathtaking,” Ann and Becca spoke at the same time. “Jinx!” they both cried. They all laughed.
“We’d better go before Lady Clara sends in a footman to carry me bodily down the stairs,” Sarah said with a smile.
Rutherford provided a perfect location for the wedding and the reception. It was secluded enough to keep the tabloid magazines away, and it offered luxurious accommodations to the limited number of guests, all of whom were thrilled to stay in a seventeenth century manor house.
They heard the soft strains of Gluck’s Dance of the Blessed Spirits played by the string quartet floating through the doors from the terrace.
The Admiral waited at the foot of the stairs, a smile so wide he thought his face might crack under the pressure. “Baby, you leave me quite speechless.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” she replied, reverting to her childhood name for him.
“Nervous?” Ann whispered on the way to the open French doors.
“No,” Sarah said, without hesitation. “I have never been more certain of anything in my life.” Even the thought of being in the spotlight was not a concern today. She knew she would have Alex by her side.
“That’s good, because this is it,” Ann said as she stepped to the doorway for the opening notes of Bach’s Sinfonia in G.
Safely tucked behind the door so no one could see her, Sarah looked out at the intimate gathering. The late May day couldn’t be more spectacular. The English countryside was in full bloom, the air was soft and warm, perfumed with the scents of lilac, freesia, and hyacinth.
Ann stepped out, followed by Becca, each in knee-length lilac chiffon gowns, walking slowly down the aisle between the rows of white brocade-covered folding chairs.
Emma had returned from trekking in Bhutan in ti
me for the ceremony. She looked very well. She’d told Sarah, Ann and Becca last night that she would actually set aside her hiking clothes for more elegant attire, and wear make-up and style her hair for the wedding.
Emma and Sarah’s father had hit it off very well. It seemed that every time Sarah saw one, she saw the other. Looking at her father now, she hoped he would find love again. It seemed such an incredible waste of a generous heart if he didn’t.
Lady Clara, who sat in the seat that would have been reserved for Sarah’s mother, her face glowing with the same pride Sarah’s own mother would have shown, looked lovely in a light blue dress and hat suitable for Queen Elizabeth herself.
Sarah and her father stepped into the doorway just as Ann and Becca reached their places, and the quartet began Bach’s Suite No. 1 in G, their cue.
As she began her slow march down the aisle beside her father, she looked at Alex’s tall frame standing beneath a flower-covered trellis, his face beaming as soon as he saw her.
She was sure hers beamed as well. He was beyond anything she could ever have imagined, dressed in a simple light gray suit, white shirt and lilac tie. Next to him stood Robert, as his best man, and Trevor, both looking dapper in dark gray suits.
After that, Sarah only had eyes for Alex, who looked at her in way that made her heart tremble with love for him.
Sure he was dreaming, Alex gave himself a mental pinch. Sarah looked like a Greek goddess come to life, all diaphanous beauty, slender grace, and timeless elegance. She glowed from within.
He stepped forward to take her hand from her father, but not before Sarah turned to give her father a kiss on his cheek, and escort her to stand beneath the trellis in front of Mr. Stanforth, the superintendent registrar who would solemnize the marriage.
“Ladies and gentleman,” Mr. Stanforth began, “we are gathered here today in the presence of these persons to witness the marriage of Alexander Tristan Sutherland Fraser, Lord Rutherford, to Sarah Anne Edwards. Alex and Sarah have duly given notice of their intention to marry in accordance with the laws of Great Britain. Are you, Alexander Tristan Sutherland Fraser, free lawfully to marry Sarah Anne Edwards?”
“I am.” Alex’s silken voice carried over the small assembly.
“Are you, Sarah Anne Edwards, free lawfully to marry Alexander Tristan Sutherland Fraser?”
“I am.” Sarah’s voice surprised her in its strength.
“Before reciting the words that will lawfully bind them, Lady Clara Fraser would like to read an excerpt from Letters to a Young Poet #7 by Ranier Maria Rilke. Lady Clara.”
Lady Clara joined the wedding party, kissing first Sarah then, Alex on the cheek, before turning to their friends, family and loved ones, and clearing her throat. In her refined accent and measured pace she read the words:
“‘That something is difficult must be one reason for us to do it. It is good to love, because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation.’
“‘Loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with another person, but rather it is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world in himself for the sake of another person; it is a great, demanding claim on him, something that chooses him and calls him to vast distances.’
“I have seen Alex and Sarah ripen and become something in themselves. I have seen them overcome life’s obstacles, which have served as mere preparation for the ultimate task of loving one another. I wish them always only the best life and love can offer.”
“Thank you, Lady Clara.”
Mr. Stanforth turned to Alex. “And now, Alex, you may speak your vows to Sarah.”
Holding both her hands in his, Alex looked tenderly into her eyes. “I, Alexander Tristan Sutherland Fraser, take you Sarah Anne Edwards to be my wedded wife.”
He finished with a quote from Shakespeare he’d selected for the ceremony. “‘So long as I can breathe or I can see, so long lives your love which gives life to me.’”
Mr. Stanforth spoke softly. “Sarah.”
Not taking her eyes off Alex’s handsome face, she said clearly and confidently, “I, Sarah Anne Edwards, take you Alexander Tristan Sutherland Fraser to be my wedded husband.” And, paraphrasing Shakespeare, she spoke her chosen sentiment. “So dear I love you that with you, all deaths I could endure. Without you, live no life.”
“Alex and Sarah will now exchange rings as a symbol of their union.”
Alex pulled the ring out of his pocket, and sliding it over her left ring finger, said, “Sarah, I give you this ring, as a token of my love, and a symbol of our marriage. I vow to be loving, faithful, and loyal to you, throughout our lives together.” He gently kissed her hand before releasing it.
Becca handed Alex’s ring to Sarah and as she slid it over his finger, she repeated those words to him. “Alex, I give you this ring, as a token of my love, and a symbol of our marriage. I vow to be loving, faithful, and loyal to you, throughout our lives together.”
Mr. Stanforth then spoke the words heard by thousands of brides and grooms every year, but never sweeter than now. “By the authority vested in me by the District of Cherwell, Oxfordshire County, I now pronounce Alex and Sarah husband and wife. Alex, you may kiss your bride.”
Alex cradled her face, tenderly kissing her lips, before whispering, “I love you, Lady Rutherford, Countess of Rutherford, my wife.”
His simple words sent a thrill through her.
“Ladies and gentleman, may I present to you for the first time, Lord and Lady Rutherford.” They turned to face the gathering of well-wishers.
This time Sarah didn’t just choose change. She embraced it. Now she would reap its promise.
Please turn the page for a preview of another book
by Rebecca Heflin:
Rescuing Lacey
Now available from Soul Mate Publishing.
Chapter 1
Fucking frogs, Lacey thought. I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to shooting frogs. “I hate frogs,” she muttered, drawing unwelcome attention from the man seated next to her.
The Cessna Grand Caravan banked, tipping the wings so that the ground looked as if it were rising up to meet it. Lacey gazed out of the window at the lush green landscape of Costa Rica, her home for the next two months, or longer, if she couldn’t get the shots she needed.
The airport resembled something out of a B-movie. As the plane bumped onto the runway she expected to see a couple of aged Hummers emerge from the jungle filled with AK-47-toting drug runners. Meager though the airport was, boasting only a small terminal consisting of a row of benches covered by a tin-roofed overhang, it wasn’t the worst airport she’d seen.
She stepped off the plane and into the heavy, humid air. If it was this hot in November, July must be a killer. Hitching her equipment bag up on her shoulder, she watched as a couple of men unloaded the rest of the luggage, tossing it carelessly onto the pockmarked tarmac, confirming her decision not to check her equipment bag. Spotting her army-green duffle, she walked over to pick it up.
“Lacey Sommers?”
“That’s me.” Lacey didn’t look toward the voice as she bent to pick up the bag and toss the bulk over her other shoulder. A hand slid beneath the strap and she turned to glare with disdain at the offending appendage. The hand was large, square, and calloused. Capable. Powerful.
“I’ll get that.”
She was rarely caught by surprise, but this was one of those times. She gazed directly into a pair of aqua-green eyes as clear and deep as the waters off the Costa Rican coast and suppressed an unexpected frisson of desire.
“Why?” was all she could think to say, her eyes narrowing behind her sunglasses.
“Well, because I have two free hands, and because it’s the polite thing to do.”
A
half smile accentuated the dimple in the man’s chin. His windblown, honey-blond locks were highlighted by nature’s hand. Her sister would kill for those highlights.
“I’m Luke Hancock. I’ll be your pilot, your driver, your guide, and—” He took the duffle from her as if it were packed with feathers and tossed it onto his shoulder. “—your bellman during your stay in Costa Rica.”
He stood a good head taller than her five-foot-ten inches and had all the markings of a beach bum: tanned; sun-kissed hair; board shorts; faded Oakley T-shirt; flip-flops; diver’s watch; even the cliché ratty hemp friendship bracelet. Just another overgrown boy, like most of the men she’d encountered in her adult life, the kind of men who made a profession out of avoiding responsibility.
“I’m quite capable of carrying my own bag.” She planted her feet in a belligerent stance, one hand on the strap of her equipment bag, her other lifted to her forehead blocking the sun.
“I’ve no doubt you are . . . capable, I mean.” Luke didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but this was definitely not it. The name Lacey Sommers, and all it implied, didn’t fit the woman standing in front of him. There was certainly nothing frilly about her. Tall, tanned, and muscular, she couldn’t be accused of being girlie, but neither was she the care-worn, jaded photographer he’d envisioned. A knot of desire formed in his stomach.
Dressed in an army-green camisole, khaki cargo shorts, and a pair of worn hiking sandals, she appeared quite capable . . . of many things. The color of her eyes, hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, piqued his curiosity.
Her only adornments were a heart-shaped garnet that hung from an antique-gold chain and an enormous Breitling watch strapped to her left wrist. He recognized the expensive brand as one he often saw on his ex-father-in-law’s wrist. No engagement or wedding ring, but there must be a rich boyfriend in the picture. A girl didn’t buy those things on a staff photographer’s salary.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Hancock, I’m no helpless female. I don’t need pampering.”
The Promise of Change Page 29