Bride Of His Choice by Darcy Emma

Author:Darcy, Emma
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf

that nothing became disarrayed. The walk to the cathedral was slowly

paced, although Leigh's heart was galloping. Once inside, Anne positioned

her in line with the main aisle and set about arranging the train of the dress

and the veil to her satisfaction.

A pipe organ was playing a hymn and a boys' choir was singing but the

sound floated past Leigh's ears. There seemed to be a drum roll in her mind

and her hands were trembling uncontrollably. She hoped her legs weren't

going to get wobbly at the critical moment.

The hymn ended. Anne stood in front of her, assessing her arrangement,

nodded her approval, held up her hand in a signal to someone, then gave

Leigh one last smile. "Perfect. Hold it there for a few beats of the wedding

march then set off nice and slow, right down the centre line of the aisle. Just

aim for Richard. Looking at anyone else might make you veer or put you off

balance. Okay?"

"Yes," Leigh whispered, her mouth and throat suddenly dry.

She wished she had a father to hold her arm. It was awful, being on her own,

no-one to lean on, no-one to guide her, no-one to shield her from mistakes in

front of all these people. But her father lived somewhere in Italy and she'd

walked alone all her life so she could do it once more, couldn't she?

Aim for Richard, she repeated to herself, hoping it would have the effect of

a calming mantra. She desperately needed tunnel vision because she could

see pews filled with people in the nave of the church, people who would

undoubtedly crane their heads to watch and appraise and wonder about the

bride—the Durant daughter who'd dropped out of sight six years ago.

Curiosity and envy and probably considerable pique would be aimed at her,

but she couldn't let herself think of that.

Aim for Richard...

The beginning of the wedding march seemed to boom from the pipe organ.

Anne moved aside, counting beats with her hand. "Go!" she instructed, and

Leigh's foot jerked forward. Get the rhythm right, she screamed at herself.

Centre line. Richard at the end of the aisle...a long, terribly long aisle.

Movement on either side of her. A blur of faces. Mustn't look. Only at

Richard. Gaze steady on him...step, pause, step, pause...

Then he smiled at her, and somehow his smile made everything easier. It

was like a beacon drawing her on to a place of safety. Richard would look

after her. All she had to do was reach him. She smiled back, her head high,

shoulders straight, determinedly maintaining a slow regal carriage, wanting

him to be proud of his bride. The chosen one...that's what I am, she thought.

Not a cuckoo, not a cast-off, not a reject ...the chosen one.

The people in the congregation floated past. Only when she neared the end

of the aisle was her awareness caught by the two women who flanked the

front pews; on the left her mother, dressed in lavender, on the right...was it

Richard's mother in pale apple green? She felt both women staring at her,

emanating strong emotions, demanding attention that tore at her composure

and tripped her heart into a faster beat.

Not now, she fiercely told herself.

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