A Bride for Sterling

by Parker J Cole

  Moira had stilled at that. “Is that what it says?” she asked slowly. The atmosphere in the room had changed. Something stirred within her at his words.

  He nodded. The look in his eye deepened. “’Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.’ I think I can relate to that.”

  “Can you?”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “There are times when you look at me, my heart leaps from within. My breath is cut short and I have to wait to breathe again.”

  The firelight danced on his ash-blonde hair. It made it look more like silver than ever before. He stood up from his perch near the fire and came toward her. The closer he’d come to her, the more she noticed the breadth of his shoulders, the stride of his long legs, and the handsome face which had haunted her dreams.

  “Sterling?” His name on her lips was uncertain, uneasy. “You are in a strange mood tonight.” Or was it she in the strange mood?

  “Am I?” His brow lifted. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “It goes on to say, ‘How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!’”

  The words, words she’d read countless times, took on a whole new dynamic. One she’d never contemplated before. Sterling’s blue eyes bore into her own. Without conscious thought, she became aware of how his arms wrapped around her and drew her into the glorious firmness of his body.

  Sterling’s eyes had dropped to her mouth and lingered, the hungry gaze in them blatant. “’Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue.’” His thumb came up and pressed against her lips. “I can attest to that one, Moira. Your kisses are sweet like honey and nourishing like milk.”

  She trembled in his arms as he’d gathered her closer. “May I?”

  She didn’t trust herself to speak but nodded shakily. Something in his eyes flared and he’d bent his head to kiss her.

  This kiss was nothing like the first time he kissed her. Nor was it similar to other kisses he’d stolen on occasion. Those had been sweet and gentle.

  No, this was more. There was no tender, halting exploration. He knew what he wanted from her and with the press of his lips, he demanded. Underneath her hand that rested against his chest, she felt his heart hammering. His kisses became more drugging, inciting her to give what he demanded with something like joy.

  The fleeting thought passed through her mind as they stood in the drawing room, delighting in their kiss. She was so glad he was the only one to make feel her this way. That no one else had shared this experience with him but her.

  It was a gift in and of itself.

  When he finally released her, she could barely stand as her legs had become weak. He held her tight against him as she leaned into his strength. She felt his lips kiss her temple and then moved to her ear. “‘Behold, thou are fair beloved.” He kissed the spot underneath her ear. A sharp tremor had gone through her. “Behold, thou art fair.’”

  “Moira?”

  Her memories interrupted, she jerked and whirled around to see Sterling standing there. Her cheeks warmed at the sight of him. Did he by any chance know what she was thinking? That despite his inability to stand up to his father, she found herself weakening to him?

  “Sterling, I didn’t hear you come in.”

  He came forward in her workroom. “You seemed to be lost in your thoughts.”

  “I was.”

  Standing before her, he stared down into her face. “Is everything all right?”

  She swallowed. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

  His eyes strayed over to the hat on the table. “Making another hat for Nethanja?”

  At the sound of the woman’s name, some of her ardor which had risen dampened down. “Yes.” She turned away from him.

  “She does seem to enjoy your work. She keeps buying them.”

  “Yes.” The word almost choked her. How she wished she could confide in him but it was impossible. “I’ll talk to Mevrouw Van Dijk and see if dinner is ready.” Moira made her way to the door and left, not looking back at the man who tore her heart in two.

  Sterling pushed the delicious food back and forth on his plate, unable to enjoy it.

  He didn’t know how much longer he could take this.

  Moira, his angel, his temptress, had gotten into his mind to where most days, she consumed his thoughts. It was different from that summer in the woods. They were children then, pretending to understand love.

  What he felt for Moira back then and what he experienced with her now were worlds apart in depth. Deeper, stronger, and more fulfilling than their childish forays into emotion they barely understood. For himself, the fact she continued to withhold herself from him had wreaked havoc on his mind.

  Not just in the marital sense, though he had to admit she’d awakened him to desires which had lain dormant. But she still held herself aloof. No matter how much time he spent with her, he couldn’t get past a wall she’d erected between them. What was he doing that held her from him?

  “Once again, Moira, you are wrong!” His father bellowed, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts.

  “I am not, Mr. Montgomery,” Moira responded, her eyes flashing. “You and I both know that when the apostle Paul wrote that particular passage, he was coming from the historical context of—”

  “Pish!” Clyford scorned. “You are astute in many ways, Moira, but not in this.”

  “You, sir, are just too stubborn to admit when you’re wrong.”

  “Ha!” Bitterness soured the sound. “My son made a gross error in judgement when he married you. If he had simply obeyed me like a good son would have,” Clyford said as he sent a lightning quick glance in Sterling’s direction, “then it would be Lavinia sitting in your place. It would be she whose company I would have the pleasure of being in. She who would—”

  “If you want her so much, then why don’t you marry her and get your precious pulpit that you so covet!”

  Sterling sat up straight. There was an odd note to Moira’s words. He’d never heard her sound quite like this before. He was so used to his father and wife arguing that he often listened to them, but stayed out of it. Moira was so strong she could handle the diatribe of his father’s words.

  But something was different tonight.

  “I am Sterling’s wife. Me!” she yelled shrilly. Her eyes, were no longer flashing in anger…but gleaming with wetness.

  Alarm went through his body.

  “How dare you speak about Lavinia with such disrespect! You’re nothing compared to her.”

  “I am more than she’ll ever be because I am your son’s wife. I will not continue to be compared to that woman anymore. Sterling married me and me alone. I will not defend his choice. Nor will I continue to—”

  Her voice broke and her head dropped into her hands. Those tiny shoulders shook.

  For a moment, all he could do was stare at this woman, this strong beautiful woman was reduced to tears. Tears! The sound of her sobs lacerated him like knives. Each deep inhalation, he winced.

  Without being conscious of it, he got up from his chair. “You made her cry,” he said to his father.

  Clyford’s blue eyes met his. “I did not.”

  “You…made…my wife…cry.” As he uttered each word, something foreign that he’d never experienced before, boiled to the surface of his skin.

  “She’s being emotional,” his father dismissed with a careless wave of his hand. “Women can be so tiresome.”

  Moira’s sobs blared in his ears. They filled the entire room it seemed. Pounding against his eardrums and making that rush of hot blood singe his skin.

  He took a step forward, scripture verses going through his head. “Honor thy father and thy mother…”

  Moira’s eyes welling with tears flashed in his mind. He took another step.

  “Children obey your parents in the Lord.”

&nb
sp; Her bowed down head made the muscles in his jaw clench. Moira had held her head up the entire time they’d been married, dealing with his father’s insults and arguments. So strong she appeared that he never thought it was possible for her to break. Now her sweet, honey-lips were curled down in sorrow.

  He had always done everything his father asked of him, obeyed him when his own desires wrestled with those of his father’s. It had never been good enough. But he had married Moira, the woman of his dreams, the woman of his heart, against his father’s wishes. Instead of protecting her from his father, he’d let the man continue his abuse on her.

  No wonder Moira couldn’t give herself to him fully. How could he cleave to her when he couldn’t stand up to the man who rode over their lives like an torrent of rockssa! Trying to crush his wife…in the same way he had crushed Sterling over the years.

  And now, she was crying.

  “Sterling, what are you—”

  His fist balled up and connected with his father’s face before he fully realized what he had done. Clyford’s head snapped back at the force and he toppled over and onto the floor, crashing like a mountain of gravel.

  “Sterling!”

  He could barely hear over the roar in his ears. All he could see was Moira’s tears, streaming down her face.

  Goaded by his anger, he bent down and gripped his father’s collar by both hands. The man held his face, his eyes huge with shock.

  The words hissed between Sterling’s teeth. “If you ever…again, insult my wife…if you ever again…belittle her…if you ever…again…make her cry, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

  Clyford stared, his mouth open. Shoving away from his father’s body, he rose and turned back to Moira. She sat gaping at him.

  The sight of the tears on her face made him want to punch his father again. Carefully he went over to her. Her eyes, red-rimmed, made his heart ache. He asked God’s forgiveness for not taking care of his wife as he should have all this time. “I’m sorry, Moira,” he told her softly. “I will never allow this to happen again.”

  He reached down and lifted her up from the chair and into his arms. She weighed nothing.

  Behind him, he could hear his father trying to get back up from the floor. He turned around and faced the man once again. “‘Fathers, provoke not your children to anger…’ Well, this is the last time you will ever treat me or your daughter like this.”

  Having said all he intended to say, he carried Moira upstairs to her room. Laying her down on the bed, he laid down beside her and gathered her close, stroking her hair. She had stopped crying when he’d punched his father but now her tears returned.

  “Cry as long as you’d like. You’ve been so strong up till now, protecting and defending me.” His throat closed up in remorse. It was a moment before he could speak. “You did all that for me and I didn’t realize it.” He kissed her forehead. “You marvelous, wonderful, precious thing.”

  Sobs tunneled through her body and vibrated against him. He lay there, absorbing it all.

  How long they lay there he didn’t know but eventually she quieted and then burrowed into him like a trusting child. A hint of a smile touched his lips but he still didn’t move. Soon, he could hear the faint sound of her snoring. He grinned and kissed her forehead once more. Listening to the rhythmic sound of her snoring, his eyes soon drifted shut.

  He dreamed he heard her voice again, the sweetest melody that ever graced the earth. It was a different tune this time. A new song. His song.

  Sterling’s eyes flew open to behold a sight he never expected he’d see. Moira sat cross-legged next to him, her long hair shimmering, and dressed in a diaphanous gown which clung to her figure.

  Singing. Singing to him.

  How beautiful she sounded. How glorious to hear! The exquisite gift she’d once given to him…was his once more.

  He said nothing until she finished, the last clear note ringing in the air like a bell.

  “Thank you, Moira. I don’t deserve the gift of your voice but you’ve given it to me anyway.”

  “You defended me, just like a prince should.”

  Thinking back on the events of the evening, his mouth tightened. “I’m no prince. I’m a foolish man.”

  “You’re my prince,” she insisted, “My silver prince who rescued me from the dragon.”

  “And you’re my angel of music, who rescued me from my own torment.”

  They stared at each other. “Maybe husbands and wives are meant to rescue each other then. Maybe it falls on both of us to help the other,” Moira said.

  Sterling nodded in agreement but his eyes were drawn to the gown and the way it moved as it plastered itself to his wife’s body. He’d never seen her like this and he sensed if he didn’t leave now, he’d do something she wasn’t prepared for.

  “Would you like for me to sing to you again?”

  His body began to stir the longer he stayed. “That’s not the song I want to hear right now,” he told her rather boldly. “I’ll leave and—”

  “Shall we sing a new song together, then? The kind only a husband and wife can sing?”

  Her meaning, nor the dewy look in her eyes, wasn’t lost on him. Sterling’s mouth went dry. “Are you sure?”

  For an answer, she came toward him, and pressed her mouth to his. The honey taste of her lips made him ravenous and he groaned in a kind of agony. Her hair flowed down like a curtain of gold and flame while her soft weight against his body inflamed him. Sterling’s hand shook as he cupped her face in his hands and returned her kiss with all the passion within him.

  When they broke apart, he brushed his thumb across her swollen mouth. “My sweet angel of music, will you sing for me?”

  A shy smile graced her face but she murmured, “For as long as you wish me to.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Thanksgiving Day

  Moira hummed and chatted with Mevrouw Van Dijk as they put the finishing touches on the Thanksgiving dinner. Two weeks had passed since Sterling and she had become man and wife in truth. Nothing on Earth had prepared her for the closeness that came with such intimacy.

  She brushed some more butter onto the crust of the apple pie. Sterling had changed that night when he finally stood up to his father on her behalf. Gone was the timid man who had allowed Mr. Montgomery to trod roughshod over his will. In his place stood a man, a quiet one, a gentle one, but one who would state his desires and not let anyone dictate his life.

  He told his father that he’d no wish to be a preacher but wanted to compose music. For his pains, Mr. Montgomery had simply walked away, not saying a word.

  The morning after that wonderful first night, she’d awaken to see Sterling gazing at her with such tenderness and love. “My prince?” she teased.

  “No.” He brushed strands of her hair away from her forehead. “Your slave. For ever and always. Your protector from this moment forward. Yours and yours only for eternity.” A powerful emotion worked the contours of his face. With a harsh indrawn breath, he buried his head into the curve of her neck. “I love you, Moira. I can’t believe how close I came to never seeing you again.”

  “I love you, too, Sterling.” She’d hugged him closer, digging her fingers into his blond hair. “If it wasn’t for the ransom, I may have never seen you.”

  “Ransom?”

  Her hands stilled in his hair. Groaning at her wayward mouth, she’d said, “Never you mind, Sterling. Just hold me close.”

  He lifted his head from her neck. “No, don’t try to distract me, my angel.” He scowled down at her. “What do you mean, ransom?”

  “Sterling, let’s not worry about—”

  “You will tell me, my angel. I’ve sworn to be your protector—”

  “And I yours,” she added swiftly.

  He gave a grave nod and kissed her lingeringly for a few moments. When he raised his head, she had a hard time remembering why she would deny him anything. Seeing her capitulation, he went on. “If someone is hurting
you, please depend on me. I won’t let anyone else hurt you again. I promise you.”

  With halting words, she told him about her debt to Mevrouw Ter Bane. The surprise on his face would have been comical but she went on, telling him how the money was hidden in the lining of the hat, how much money she’d taken from the housekeeping funds, and how much her debt was.

  “I’m asking you this, not because I want to cause you unnecessary shame to your mother. If you refuse to tell me, I will let the manner lie. But what was she holding your mother ransom for?”

  “My mother had me out of wedlock. I am the illegitimate daughter of a man who she’d known for a brief time. He’d promise to marry her but abandoned her once he’d taken my mother’s virtue. My mother had no one to go to, so she went to work for a milliner where she met Mevrouw Ter Bane. Her reputation proceeded her as a matchmaker of great success.

  “She was particularly fond of my mother and liked her work so she commissioned my mother to create more hats for her and to have them delivered. When my mother fainted, due to my presence, Mevrouw asked her if she wanted to find a husband who would be honorable to me and her. Four months later, my mother married my father in a quiet ceremony with a few trusted guests.”

  “I can guess what happened then,” he said, twirling a long strand of her hair around his finger.

  “Though my father knew the circumstances and accepted both my mother and me, society is cruel and unforgiving. Imagine, how it must have been for my mother—to see the woman who paired her with the most wonderful man, holding her for ransom.”

  “How awful for her.” Sterling nuzzled her cheek in sympathy.

  “The undeniable truth is that Mevrouw Ter Bane is never wrong. Everyone she has matched have been suitable and happy with each other. It’s just one has to pay for the privilege of being with your true love.”

  Sterling had shaken his head at her explanation. “After tomorrow, neither you or your mother will have to worry about her.”