A Bride for Sterling

by Parker J Cole

  Sterling did his best to dismiss Jasper’s cryptic remarks. Since yesterday when Jasper returned from being his proxy, there had been an expression on his friend’s face he couldn’t quite define. It was as if Jasper was bursting with a secret but was having a difficult time keeping it to himself. Off and on as they waited for Moira Wellington to arrive, he’d catch a look on Jasper’s face which only made his nervousness rise.

  Then, a disquieting thought entered his mind. “Jasper, is she hideous then?”

  He knew he told Nethanja ter Bane that he didn’t care what his bride looked like. But now that the moment was almost here, he found himself regretting his rashness. All beauty came from the Creator of all things lovely. It’s just that there were times He’d chosen to hide some women’s beauty behind a plain mask.

  Was Jasper’s evasiveness due to that?

  “Tell me true: is my bride hideous?”

  His friend laughed and rose up from the chair.

  “There are many things I would do to torment you, my good man. Yet, I wouldn’t lie to you about her beauty.” His mirth melted away into wistfulness. “I almost envy you.”

  “That is a relief. Although, if she were of a plain disposition, I would not forsake her. A woman is more than beauty.”

  He thought of his father and his lips twisted to the side. “She is more than a rung on a ladder.”

  Once more his gaze drifted to the clock and he noted the time. Two minutes left before he met her.

  Jasper picked up a tome off the desk and flipped through its pages. “How long before the Revered One returns?”

  Clasping his hands behind his back to hide their trembling, Sterling answered, “He is visiting Elder Collingsworth. He’s usually there for an hour or so, there is plenty of time to--”

  The bell rang throughout the house. His heart thundered inside his chest.

  He and Jasper’s eyes clashed. “She’s here, your bride.”

  The sudden instinctive urge to flee nearly overtook him but he dampened it with a silent prayer, one of the dozens he had uttered over the course of the past few weeks. This was the only way he could truly escape his father’s tyranny.

  He heard Gijs’s footsteps go down the hall. “Should I go meet her?”

  “No, my good man. In fact,” Jasper pushed up from his seat, “I’ll go and bring her to you. I believe she may appreciate the sight of a familiar face.”

  Jasper laughed as soon as the words came out of his mouth. “A familiar face,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head and going out the door.

  In the room alone, Sterling strained to hear what was going on. This was it. He’d present his bride to his father soon and would let whatever was to happen, happen.

  He took a brief look outside the window. If he opened it up and put his head out the window, he’d see the tree that stood outside of his father’s study. Imagining it as it was a few days before Jasper had left to meet Sterling’s bride, as it was completely bare now, he recalled the conversation he and Jasper had had.

  They had stood under the tree when he said, “You see that leaf, Jasper?”

  “I do.”

  “Over the past few days, I’ve come to see that leaf in a symbolic manner.”

  “Have you?”

  Sterling had walked closer to the tree. “This leaf is representative of my father’s will. Despite everything, he clings to his views, wants, and ideas. His demand to tradition and family legacy.”

  “If your father is the leaf, then what are you, Sterling?”

  “I am the wind.” His fists shook with the force of his feelings. “My desires and dreams are bigger than his. I blow hard. I blow soft and yet my father clings to his designs for me.”

  “Such as pursuing Lavinia.”

  “Especially that,” he affirmed with a slash of his hand. “All the other leaves have fallen off this tree except for that one. Yet, I have seen the wind howl, squeal, and roar at that leaf and yet, it remains. Does that mean my father’s wishes are to be heeded regardless of my wishes? My hopes? My dreams? Does God not see my anguish, my agony? Are they not important to Him?”

  “Sterling, you’re such a dramatic man for such a silent one. You’re forgetting one very important thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  Jasper had reached out and plucked the leaf from its chokehold. Sterling started, feeling the movement like a visceral cut along his stomach. It fluttered to the ground and the wind, with an eager howl swept it away.

  "You are not the wind. Neither is your father's will a leaf." His friend clapped his hand on his shoulder. "You are a man. The son of men, not of nature. Men are stewards of the earth, not simply its inhabitants. We are more than instinctive creatures of God's majesty. We are men of intent. Therefore, we do not bow to nature, nor do we bow to anyone whose will is not our own."

  It had been the final understanding which made him go through with this proxy marriage. And now, the time had come.

  Would she be strong enough to handle the man that was his father? Was he able to stand up to his sire when he presented his bride to him?

  Could he ever love Moira Wellington as he’d loved his angel of music?

  Unlikely.

  The door to the library opened. Taking in a deep breath, he sent one more prayer upward and then pivoted to face his new bride.

  Jasper stood in the doorway, alone and grinning.

  “Oh, do stop with the games, Jasper and tell me! Where is she?”

  “Here.” Jasper stepped aside and with a slight bow said, “May I present to you, Sterling Montgomery, your wife.”

  The color of the cape she wore drew his eyes first. Bright, brilliant red like the one his angel of music wore so long ago. It flowed over her figure and trailed behind her.

  He raised his eyes to look into her face, and then gasped. His mouth dropped open as he took two steps back.

  A veil lifted from his mind and he knew, without a shadow of a doubt that before him stood his angel of music.

  The memories which had been locked away surged to the forefront of his mind. He saw her as he had that marvelous summer. A young, carefree girl of vibrancy. Her blonde curls bounced on her shoulders as they meandered through the forest. That sweet, cherub-dipped mouth trembling with emotion as she sang to him. Blue crystal eyes shining with an inner joy gazing up from a face already showing signs of marked beauty.

  “Angel?”

  “My prince?” she whispered back.

  Her voice! The same voice which had held him enraptured so many years ago. He’d thought he’d never be able to hear it again. It had grown husky with a low tone that made a slight shiver flow down the spine of his back.

  Ten years had changed her in ways he should have expected but to behold them now…they took his breath away.

  The same golden hair but different, longer and still with that burnished hint of flame, now more pronounced. Her heart shaped face with the stubborn chin had elongated, giving her an almost elfin look. A snub nose, and full cherry red lips. Her eyes, clear like the ocean and fringed by heavy thick lashes stared back at him, wide in shock. Her beauty had blossomed to full maturity.

  “It is you,” he breathed out in wonder. He wanted to run and touch her, caress that soft-looking skin with his fingers and know that this wasn’t a dream.

  No, it couldn’t be a dream. In his dreams, he’d only the memory of her voice to accompany him. This had to be reality – glorious, wonderful, beautiful reality.

  “I can’t believe it.” His angel took another step forward. The flow of her red cape made her look elegant and ethereal. Why did he have the fanciful thought the cape trailed behind her like a train of a queen’s gown?

  Because she is…my queen! My wife!

  “Are you surprised?”

  Sterling jumped and dragged his eyes away from his angel. He’d forgotten there was anyone else in the room. “You knew?”

  Jasper shrugged. “I knew the moment I saw her hair. And, as much as I wou
ld like to continue to stand here and see your reactions to each other, we do have to discuss a few things before your father arrives.”

  Sterling shook his head. There was much to be done just as Jasper had said. He’d have to find time to talk to his angel later.

  “Yes, you’re right, of course.” He waved his arm and indicated the settee. “Please, sit.”

  His angel nodded in a regal way. He longed to touch her but didn’t trust himself. However, when Nethanja entered along with Gijs, he directed the man to gather everyone’s wraps.

  Red seemed to be her color choice, although it was unusual. Most of the young women he’d known wore demure colors so as to not bring the wrong type of attention to themselves. Some of the Dutch women in the community would have considered wearing such a strong color sinful. Even Lavinia, sought after by most of the men, erred on the side of propriety.

  Not his naughty angel. He couldn’t suppress the tiny smile that lifted his mouth.

  The long dress swirled around her. Caught around the waist, it made her waist look tinier than ever. The high collar of the dress framed her long, swan-like neck. When the matchmaker came and sat down as well, her dark brown attire was an ugly contrast next to his angel.

  “This marriage, although completed by proxy, is legal.” She reached into the small satchel she’d brought with her and retrieved a small, leather bound book. “Within this are all the legal documents to show the proof of your marriage so should anyone wish to contest it, they will not be able to.” Anyone being his father. Sterling felt a bit of his euphoria slip away as he thought of facing the wrath of his father.

  “I have never been wrong when I have brought a man and woman together,” Nethanja went on to say with an intent look to his angel. “I wish you every happiness.”

  “Thank you,” Sterling responded. God had truly smiled on him. Even the prospect of the coming battle with his father couldn’t negate the wonderful knowledge that he’d been blessed to have the woman of his heart.

  “There are a number of things I’m sure you need to discuss. Before I take my leave, I should like to know when I shall receive—”

  Nethanja lifted her left eyebrow in question. His angel’s body stiffened in a sudden, tense way.

  “I’ll have the funds available to you tomorrow, Mevrouw Ter Bane,” he said.

  “I’ll take my leave. Mijnheer Fox, if you would be so kind to see me out?”

  “Of course.”

  They left but not before Jasper sent a wink in his direction as he closed the door behind them.

  Sterling stood in the ensuing silence, unable to take his eyes off her. Where should he begin?

  “You know, I’ve spent countless hours dreaming of what your name could be,” he told her.

  “Did you?” she asked in a quiet tone.

  “I have.” He took a step forward. “I never dreamed your name was Moira. It’s a lovely name. It matches you perfectly.”

  “My—Sterling,” she said, her face still averted from his. “There’s something I must tell you before you say anymore.”

  “And what is that, pray?”

  “I cannot go through with this marriage.”

  The eyes of her silver prince narrowed. “What do you mean, my angel?”

  Moira gulped, feeling a slight tremble overtake the limbs of her body. For some reason, her prince was unable to see the burgeoning rage gathering under her skin. Perhaps her acting ability was better than she’d hoped.

  She kept a tight rein on her emotions as she traveled all this way so as to prevent Mevrouw Ter Bane from seeing any sign of weakness. But now, the strain of that was about to break from this incredible reunion.

  “I’m sure there’s no need to repeat myself, Sterling.”

  Sterling. How nice to discover his name after all these years.

  “We’re already married, Angel.”

  “It is a state of affairs that is easily rectifiable.”

  Sterling—she must remember to keep calling him that—took a step toward her.

  “Why should you wish to end our marriage? We’ve only just found each other again, Angel.”

  Found each other? Was he joking? Had he ever looked for her?

  “You know my name, Sterling. Do address me by it.”

  Every time he called her by that name, her mind was transported back to that glorious summer. Every fairytale she’d ever dreamed had come true. Or at least it seemed it had.

  Her prince attended to her every day. As a young man, he’d stood above her, tall and gangly. The ash blond hair took on a hue of silver in the sunlight, thus the reason why she referred to him as her ‘silver prince’. A coil of his hair would drape in front of his left eye. To her young mind, it lent him a rakish appearance, reminiscent of the pirates and dashing highway men in her books.

  How often had that great, big forest become a cocoon which held just the two of them? Extraordinary to recall that until that final day, no one else had ever intruded on their domain.

  “Moira?”

  She blinked rapidly, coming out of her memories with a shuddering breath.

  “Why don’t you want to be married to me? I thought I’d never see you again.”

  A harsh, dark laugh erupted from her throat. The sound of it caused Sterling to wince.

  A grim sort of satisfaction rifled through her. Could he hear the sour note of bitterness which accompanied that facsimile of mirth?

  “It is I who thought I would never see you,” she replied. “After all, you never reached out to me in the entire ten years we had been apart.” She shrugged. “If we can call that time in the forest, ‘togetherness’.”

  “Please let me explain, Angel.”

  “Refrain from calling me that,” she ordered again.

  The boy who made her his ‘angel of music’ no longer existed. His shoulders had broadened, rounded and appearing solid underneath his morning coat. That thick ash blond hair had been tamed by pomade. It lent him a masculine elegance and maturity no female under the age of sixty could deny.

  And then…those eyes.

  They hadn’t changed. Still brilliantly blue fringed by thick lashes. Perhaps there was crow’s feet on either side where there had not been any before. Yet, they were still the same.

  The blue eyes that had haunted her dreams for many years.

  An irrational anger swept through her. How dare he look even more handsome, more gallant than he had as a boy?

  “Moira, if you would please allow me to explain—”

  “Sterling, there was a time when I would have longed dearly for an explanation for why you abandoned me.”

  A sudden sob interrupted her, unexpected and unwelcomed.

  “Moira!” He took another step toward her, his hand outstretched.

  Swiftly, she leapt up from the settee. “Don’t lay a hand on me,” she hissed with venom that stopped Sterling in his tracks.

  He looked wounded. “Why are you acting like this? You know how much I cared for you. If you’ll just let me—”

  “No. It is ten years too late for any excuse you can give me.” With an effort, she bought her emotions under strict control. “I never had any intention of marrying you.”

  How well she lied! If she wasn’t in her own body, she would believe every word. “Had I known it was you, I would have refused this arrangement.”

  But would she have? Not with her mother’s well-being at risk.

  The wounded look dissipated from his face, replaced by an expression of determination. “I can see your anger is aroused.”

  “Can you?” she said sweetly, the word dripping with sarcastic intent.

  He gave a curt nod. “No matter what you think, God has brought you back into my life again, Angel.”

  She stiffened.

  “Moira,” he amended placatingly. “I thought that all was lost until I saw you come through that door. Now, wild horses wouldn’t drag me away from you.”

  “They are pretty words, Sterling Montgomery.” Be
autiful, in fact. “But that’s all they are. No substance to them in any manner. I believed your words once. I won’t make that same mistake again.”

  “You did not make a mistake. My father learned of our meetings that very last day.”

  “Impossible!” Moira gave a vehement shake of her head. “No one knew where and when we met.”

  “That’s true. I never told a soul.” His voice deepened. “I wanted to keep our meetings to myself. They were too precious to share with anyone.”

  She ignored the way her heart flipped at the gentle passion in his voice. Those meetings were more than precious to her. They had given her life a new meaning.

  “Then how did your father find out?”

  “I’m not sure. He never told me. All I knew is that he came to my room that night, bellowing his displeasure.” A distant, faraway look entered his blue eyes. “The very next day, we left. Early that morning. I tried to delay our departure but my father was adamant. That is why I didn’t meet you that day, though I had sworn to you that I would.”

  Moira studied him, feeling her anger once again swell. Her temper could get the best of her at times. She wondered, in a somewhat abstract way, if it was simply the Irish half of her blood fighting with the Dutch half.

  “Is that all, Sterling? All you have to say?”

  The question came out in a deceptively soft voice. Had her mother been there, the woman would have grabbed her son-in-law and rushed him out of the room.

  Unfortunately for you, my prince, my mother is not here to save you.

  “That is it,” he told her. “It’s why I missed that day.”

  Heat scorched her cheeks. “Should I perhaps curtsy, Sterling? Should I swoon with relief at this vulgar misunderstanding?”

  “Moira?” His blond brows formed a V in the center of his angular forehead.

  She barely heard him above the roaring in her ears. “Perhaps, you expect me to dash into your arms and embrace you. Now that I know you missed that day, and the reason for it, I should lift my face for your kiss. Then, we can begin our lives as man and wife.”

  He blushed at the implication of the words but kept his gaze focused on her. “We always said we would, Moira.”