If anything her pace became faster.
“Once I am married, Judith,” he said, realizing that she was not in the mood to be teased, “my wife will be entitled to my undivided devotion, in and out of the marriage bed. That would be true even if for some reason I were ever persuaded to marry a woman not of my own choosing—as I almost was during the past few weeks. You are the bride of my choosing, the love of my heart, for all the rest of my life.”
He heard his own words almost as if there were a spectator in him uninvolved in his emotions, in his fear that there was going to be no way of persuading her. The spectator was very aware that he would have found the extravagance of his own words excruciatingly embarrassing even just a few weeks ago. . . . the bride of my choosing, the love of my heart , . .
Her head was down. She was crying, he realized. He did not comment on the fact or say any more. He merely kept pace with her. They were almost at the summit of this particular hill.
“You cannot marry me,” she said eventually. “We are soon going to be quite ruined. That was no happily ever after at Bran’s rooms yesterday. He is still dreadfully in debt. He is either going to end up in debtors’ prison, or he is going to beggar Papa—or both. You cannot ally yourself with such a family.”
She stopped suddenly. There was nowhere else to go except down the other side of the hill to a sort of no-man’s-land before the next hill began.
“Your brother is no longer in debt,” he told her, “and I am hopeful that he never will be again.”
She looked at him, her eyes widening.
“The Duke of Bewcastle did not...” She did not complete the thought.
“No, Judith,” he said. “Not Wulf.”
“You?” One of her hands crept up to her throat. “You have paid his debts? How are we ever going to repay you!”
He took her hand in his and drew it away from her throat. “Judith,” he said, “it is a family matter.
Branwell Law is going to be a part of my family, I fervently hope. There is no question of repayment. I will always do all in my power to keep you from harm or misery.” He tried to smile and was not at all sure he had succeeded. “Even if that means removing myself from your life and never seeing you again.”
“Rannulf,” she said, “you paid his debts? For my sake? But Papa will never allow it.”
It had not been easy. The Reverend Jeremiah Law was a severe, proud man who did not unbend easily into affability. He was also an upright and honest man who loved his children, even Judith, whose spirit he had so unwittingly crushed over the years.
“Your father has accepted the fact that it is quite unexceptionable for his future son-in-law to give some assistance to his son,” he said. “I am up here with his permission, Judith.”
Her eyes widened again.
“Your future brother-in-law helped too,” he said. “He used his influence and has found your brother a junior post with the East India Company. With hard work he will be able to improve his position considerably. The sky, one might say, is the limit for him.”
“The Duke of Bewcastle? Oh.” She bit her lip. “Why has he done so much for us when he must despise us heartily?”
“I am here with his blessing too, Judith,” he said, raising her hand to his lips.
“Oh,” she said again.
“You seem to be in a minority of one in considering a marriage with me ineligible,” he said.
“Rannulf.” Tears welled into her eyes again, making them look greener than ever.
The spectator in him looked on appalled as he risked murder to one leg of his pantaloons by dropping to one knee on the grass in front of her, possessing himself of her other hand too as he did so.
“Judith,” he said, looking up into her startled, arrested face, “will you do me the great honor of marrying me? I ask for one reason and one reason only. Because I adore you, my love, and can imagine no greater happiness than to spend the rest of my life making you happy and sharing companionship and love and passion with you. Will you marry me?”
He had never in his life felt so helpless or so anxious. He gripped her hands, fixed his gaze on the grass, and tried to ignore the fact that the course of all the rest of his life hung on the answer she would give him.
It seemed to him that it took forever for her to answer. When she drew her hands free of his, he thought his heart had surely slipped all the way to the soles of his boots. And then he felt her hands very light against the top of his head and then gently twining in his hair. He was aware of her leaning over him, and then she kissed his head between her hands.
“Rannulf,” she said softly. “Oh, Rannulf, my dearest love.”
He was on his feet then and catching her about the waist and lifting her off her feet and twirling her twice about while she threw back her head and laughed.
“Look what you have done,” she said, still laughing, when he set her down.
Her hair on one side had come tumbling down, and the braid was fast unraveling. She lifted her arms, took down the other side too, and stuffed the hairpins in her pocket. She shook her head, but he closed the small distance between them.
“Allow me,” he said.
He combed his fingers through her hair, untangling the last of the braiding until her hair was loose and falling in shining ripples about her shoulders and down her back. He gazed into her bright, happy eyes, smiled at her, and kissed her. She wound her arms about his neck and leaned into him while he wrapped his own about her waist and drew her to him as if they could have melded into one right there on the hilltop.
They smiled at each other when he finally lifted his head, words unnecessary, unwilling to let each other go. And then he stood back, holding her hands out to the sides with his own, and looked at her—his prize, his own, his love.
There was a noticeable breeze on the hilltop. It sent her dress fluttering behind her and flattened it against her at the front. It lifted her hair in a red-gold cloud behind her back. Just a few weeks ago, he knew, she would have been deeply embarrassed to be seen thus in all her vivid, voluptuous glory. But today she gazed back at him, her head tipped proudly back, a soft smile on her lips, her cheeks flushed.
She was all beautiful, breathtaking goddess and woman, and now at last she had accepted herself as she was.
“May I assume that your answer is yes?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” she said, laughing. “Did I not say so? Oh, yes , Rannulf.”
They both laughed then and he scooped her up in his arms again and twirled her about and about until they were both dizzy.
Chapter XXIV
Judith’s small dressing room was so crowded with people that Tillie could scarcely bend her elbows to place her bonnet carefully on her head so as not to disturb the soft, shiny curls of her coiffure.
“You look beautiful , Jude,” Pamela said, tears shining in her eyes. “I always did say you were the loveliest of us all.”
“Lord Rannulf is going to be ecstatic ,” Hilary said, clasping her hands to her bosom.
“Judith,” Cassandra said, gazing at her. But she had always been Judith’s closest friend. Words failed her. “Oh, Judith.”
Their mother did more than gaze. She reached up for the lace over the brim of the bonnet, pulled it down, and arranged it over her daughter’s face.
“It seems I have waited forever to see one of my daughters happily married,” she said. “Promise me you will be happy, Judith.” Although her manner was brisk, it was very obvious that she was on the verge of tears.
“I promise, Mama,” Judith said.
Her grandmother, dressed in bright fuchsia and decked out in surely every jewel from the velvet bag, glittered and clinked as she clasped and unclasped her hands and beamed at her favorite granddaughter.