Page 53 of Forever Her Bachelor

It was beautiful and perfect.

More of the armor around her heart cracked. Questions about the delicate ring sprang through Pippa’s mind. The most primary was how long had he had it? Was it a relic from the past? Is this the ring he would’ve given to her nine years earlier?

Mr. Campbell inspected the band, giving it his approval with a weighty nod. “Fine Scots gold!” He held the ring in sunlight that shone through the shop.

Pippa’s breath caught as the gold glinted in the bright sun. She knew then that the ring had surely belonged to his mother.

“Place the ring on her left hand,” Mr. Campbell instructed, his cheery voice breaking through Pippa’s fogged mind.

Her heart pounded in her chest, making it difficult for Pippa to breathe as St. Clara quietly took her left hand in his. The gliding of his thumb over her ring finger had every atom in her body surging, pooling in her abdomen.

As St. Clara slid the gold band onto her ring finger, everything in the entire world stopped. Pippa’s life suddenly clinked in place, the years fading away as if the pain of the past had never occurred.

She was vaguely aware of movement around her, but her eyes stayed fixated on the beautiful ring that now lived on her finger. The cool weight of it was a reminder that she was cemented to him forever.

Now that it was safely ensconced on her finger, she could see the details of it clearly. The gold band was wide, and swirls of a vine circled the entire band, interwoven, connected. Mrs. Campbell stepped forward, handing her husband something.

“Lay ye hands together flat, your palm over her hand.” His voice was clear and crisp. He watched them carefully as St. Clara took her right hand under his much-larger left one. “Handfasting is an old Celtic ritual. It symbolizes the binding of two lives forever.”

Pippa’s gaze was now riveted by the yellow ribbon that Mr. Campbell held as if it was a precious piece of fabric. He began wrapping the ribbon around their connected hands. St. Clara’s skin vibrated against her shaking limbs, and his warmth seeped through their connection, flowing through her.

Pippa closed her eyes, her pounding heart sounding as loud as someone screaming in the middle of a quiet night. Each twirl around their combined hands took Pippa back to their past. A tree, kittens, experiments, giggles, and letters were all a part of their connection. The fabric unraveled the history of hurt and pain, knitting them back together one piece at a time.

When she felt the ribbon tied deftly in place, Pippa knew that she would always be tied to this man. They had been since they were children, and nothing, not heartbreak, not even time would change that.

St. Clara’s hand closed over hers, forcing Pippa’s eyes to open, finding his own on hers. The sight of tears glistening in his eyes shocked her, stealing her breath away. His handsome face was so full of wonder and hope. She had seen that look once before … the day he had asked her to marry him the first time.

“Repeat after me, Ye Grace.” Mr. Campbell said, his Scots brogue piercing through the silent room. Pippa couldn’t focus on the words, so enraptured was she in the eyes of the boy she’d once known.

Chauncey.

There he was, her friend, her everything.

His thumb stroked her skin where they were bound. A lone tear escaped and ran freely down his cheek. “I, Chauncey Bennett, the Duke of St. Clara, take Pippa Price to be my wife and thereto plight thee my troth.” His free hand wrapped around her waist, commanding her to him like a puppeteer. His head rested against hers, their gazes locked on each other.

Her free hand cupped his cheek. She needed to feel more of him, to be closer to him in that very moment.

“You are blood of my blood and bone of my bone,” he continued. “I give you my body that we two might be one. I give you my spirit ’til our life shall be done.”

Her own tears were falling freely, and nothing else existed but them. She felt sixteen again with all the happiness in the world in her future.

“Repeat after me, lass.” Mr. Campbell’s voice slid through their bubble.

The words came freely and full of light. There was nothing but them, no past, no father, no lies. Only the future. “I, Pippa Price, take you, Chauncey Bennett, the Duke of St. Clara, to be my husband and thereto plight thee my troth.”

After the words were said, Pippa struggled to breathe. The atmosphere in the small barn was heavy, the horses letting out their own discomfort. The hand connected to hers was giving her the security that she had not felt since her parents had perished.

Mr. Campbell slapped his large hands together. The noise was so loud that both Pippa and St. Clara jumped, looking over at him.

“May God be with you and bless you. May you see your children’s children.

May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings, may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.” Mr. Campbell gave them a wide smile, his eyes sparkling, his large body bouncing. “I now declare ye husband and wife. Ye may kiss yer lass.”

St. Clara’s free hand cupped her cheek, his watery eyes searching hers. “My God, Kitten, you’re mine.”

Pippa could not stop the enormous smile that spread across her lips, right before he pressed his hungry mouth to hers.

After he kissedhis wife a little too excitedly in front of others, St. Clara paid the blacksmith for the ceremony, the flowers, the ribbon, the witnesses, and the certificate, which was proof that they were married. He also left a hefty tip as his new wife insisted.