Page 39 of Married to a Frozen Duke
She saw him take in her face—the tears starting, the mortification, the way she was already pulling back to flee.
His hand caught her arm, not gently but not cruelly either, just firm enough to stop her escape.
"Stand still," he said quietly, his voice controlled but with an edge. Then louder, carrying through the church: "All is well."
She tried to pull away. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I..."
"Stop talking." His grip tightened slightly. "Just... stop."
"Your Grace," the vicar stammered, "perhaps we should postpone..."
"Continue," Alexander said flatly.
"But... Your Grace, you're..."
"I'm aware of my condition, vicar. Continue the ceremony."
"Alexander," Frederick's voice came from somewhere behind them. "Perhaps you should change."
"Continue," Alexander repeated, and his tone suggested arguing would be unwise. He looked at the congregation, and his expression was arctic. "Unless someone has an objection they'd like to voice?"
Dead silence.
He turned back to Ophelia, who was shaking, tears streaming down her face. "Stop crying," he said under his breath. "They're watching."
"I've ruined everything."
"Yes, you have. But we're finishing this anyway." His grey eyes held hers, cold but determined. "We're going to complete this ceremony, then walk out of here. Do you understand?"
"How can you..."
"Because I don't have a choice, and neither do you." His jaw was tight with controlled anger. "We're going to finish this now."
He nodded curtly to the vicar. "The rings."
The vicar, desperate to end this disaster, hurried through the rest. The ring exchange was a blur; Alexander's hands steady but tense as he slid the ring on her finger, hers shaking as she somehow managed to get his ring on.
"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder."
Joined. They were joined now, she in her wedding dress with tears on her face and Alexander covered in vomit….both of them trapped.
"The... the kiss..." the vicar mumbled.
Alexander leaned forward and barely touched his lips to her forehead, the gesture perfunctory rather than tender.
"Can you walk?" he asked quietly, though his tone suggested she'd better be able to.
She nodded.
He offered his arm stiffly, and together they turned to face the congregation. The sea of faces ranged from horrified to fascinated and to pitying.
"Chin up," he murmured. "Don't give them the satisfaction."
She managed to lift her head slightly.
They walked down the aisle in complete silence. Someone tittered nervously, then stopped when Alexander's gaze found them.
The rain had increased to a downpour. They stood in the vestibule while carriages were brought around, Ophelia shaking, Alexander rigid with controlled fury, both of them beyond words.
