Promises Unkept

Matrimony

That he would accept this woman_ Eden Henley_ as his lawful, wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the most holy state of matrimony; that he would love her, comfort her, honor and keep her by his side, no matter what; that he would have and hold her, from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer, for poorer, in good health and in bad and to love and to cherish her whilst forsaking all he knew, keeping himself only up to her as long as they both shall live_ was what asked of him as the moment of vow came.

A deep shaky breathe, barely noticeable to all, escaped his lips.

"I.....I will." He whispered from between his gritting teeth, clenching hard on the oriental-designed golden little ring in his palm, the ring he was supposed to slide down her finger, knowing all this while that he would not keep those promises he was making.

His green eyes were glowing like a globe of hellish fury, cheated and deceived, suffering.

He was still to look at her. He was still to see her face closely. But he didn't have it in him, looking at her face. He feared how dreadfully terrible things may turn up right now and here, if he looked and found something very, or even mildly, unbecoming.

The vicar was pronouncing the same words to her that he had, moments ago, compelled onto him. When he finished, Stephan heard a sweet, sharp voice saying...

"I will."

So Firmly.

That voice. Her Voice.

He looked up, unexpectedly, unconsciously. His green eyes squaring into her wide, raven ones as she searched his own gaze for God knew what. And he realized that she meant it. That when she said 'she will', she had meant she would__ be at his side, plague him_ forever.

And he realized that she had such wide eyes. That there was a detachedness in her gaze and a forlornness and other sad things he never could name because he hadn't known that sort of melancholy to exist.

Like a dark chamber on a rainy day, that shadow under the candle.

Stephen blinked and surfaced from the depth he had accidently reached, and found that this earnestness of her eyes, this firmness of her decision did worse things to him. It aggravated him. It provoked him to realize that this pale, moonlit woman had truth in her while he had none.

That he, Stephan Richard Adelwood, since this moment on, was obliged to share his every bliss, each sorrow, dismay or joy, sunshine or rain with this creature, that stood in front of him. His wealth. His life.

His world.

A sudden urge to pinch the bridge of his nose filled his senses, that he refrained.

He could not do that. It would not be proper. He had a ring between his fingers, a responsibility, however ill-sought. He could just not. The tip of his index finger traced the pattern on that wedding band. His father had given him this, just in the dreaded morning today.

The vicar said the lasts of his prayer and Stephan found it was the time for the exchange. And She was blushing. Blushing! Or that was what the tint of scarlet on her cheeks signified.

What for?

Why would a woman such as this one blush? For certainly, she must have had it all rehearsed in her imagination quite a couple of hundred times by now, had she not?

This was what you desired.

He produced out his hand, supine, demanding for hers, as she passed down her bouquet of flowers to her maid. And when she extended her hand to him, he saw a slight quivering in the fingers. It made his temper flare.

Her persistent pretending of innocence was vouching the worst of his aggressions.

The instant her fingers came in the reign of his reach, his own finger gripped them impatiently, with a force times more than he had intended.

The gesture, being too brisk, didn't go unnoticed by her. Simultaneously, he heard her stop breathing following a diminutive flinch. He also felt a wide, deep pair of midnight eyes gazing at him, in dark query.

Her lovely eyes might have fooled everyone here but not him. He was not to be vacillated by their weight. The above notion, he had harboured was only to gather his good judgment and lack of orientation but what they did was completely staggering.

He realized that without his own knowledge, his wits had already christened her eyes as lovely.

Though beautiful they were. Very dark. Very deep.

He stared at her face. And then at her fingers which had turned white from the force of his grip.

Without a moment more of filing his thoughts, he slipped down the ring into her finger, the golden band forming a beautiful contrast with the pale fingers of her.

And he did it. Handed her over his biggest asset, his title.

Some more things were said followed by_ you may kiss your bride_ and from the corner of his eyes, Stephan noticed her head hang down until her chin was touching her chest.

Ah, Diffidence, was it?

He had intended to kiss her hand.

But by now, that had stopped appearing be the right scheme. Doing that would most certainly be identified as propriety by her from his part and a care to not trespass her privacy.

Her privacy?!

And why should he care for her transitory privacy when she had infiltrated, without his consent, his lifetime solitude?

He had a better knowledge.

He had intended to kiss her hand.

But stepping nearer to her, with an imposing position, he towered her over.
His hand went up to her dipped down chin as he pushed her face up with a flex of his finger. He was hardly gentle when he did that.

Her face was incandesending, red_ but by no mean compliant.

Almost, he could have sworn, panicky, like he was doing something he shouldn't...

And his mouth landed hard on her lips with a consuming passion, nearly sending her off balance as his hand steadied her back. It was strange how hatred sometime resembled love to such biasing limits. So there, with that, he knew it, he felt it that he had managed to bruise her. Not just physically.

It had not been a kiss. It had been a manipulation. It had been a kiss, manipulated.

He felt her get stunned in shock. He felt her fidget ever so slightly in his hold as if to wretch away her mouth from his, which was some surprise for him. He had never thought a woman could possibly be adverse to his kiss. Not that he had kissed someone ever before, but still, he had a rough sketch.
And he most certainly hadn't expected this particular creature to react like this.

If this had somehow degraded her even mildly, Stephen was gratified.

Suddenly withdrawing her, he allowed his mouth to brush against her flushed cheeks ones and whispered, in an undertone "You disgust me."

The quill came. The paper. He signed his name. She signed hers. Her hand trembled. His didn't. The vicar announced them man and wife.

She disgusted him.