"Rosalie," Mira interrupted, smiling slightly, "I don't have any questions to ask about tomorrow night."
"I was afraid you didn't," Rosalie said, and suddenly they both chuckled. Taking a sip of the sweet, fruity wine, Rosalie relaxed and sighed. "Still, I wanted to be certain that you were not uncertain about the wedding night. I was always told quite dreadful things about such matters—about a wife's responsibilities and duties in the marriage bed. The 'proper' thing for decent women to do, and all that."
"What is the 'proper' thing to do in the marriage bed?"
"I was told by my mother that a lady just lies back and thinks of England."
Mira giggled.
"Fortunately," Rosalie continued, "by the time she told me that, Rand and I had already been together. It would shock many people to know that we had been so intimate before the wedding."
"I knew how it was between you two when we were all in Anjou," Mira said, swirling her wine in the glass and sampling it with the air of a connoisseur.
"You did? How?"
"It was the way he looked at you. And the way you looked back at him."
"Oh…" Rosalie smiled. "I didn't know it had been so obvious." Tentatively she added, "Mireille, I believe I have changed my mind to some degree about Lord Falkner. I've noticed during the past few visits that he is different from what I thought him to be. At least, around you he is different, and that is enough to reassure me that he truly does care for you."
"I'm so glad that you feel that way."
"I hope that he makes you happy. I hope that heregards your happiness, your comfort, your… pleasure as highly as he does his own."
"Yes. Oh yes, he does," Mira hastened to reassure her, and blushed. "I meant that he will—"
"I know what you meant," Rosalie said wryly.
The marriage took place the next morning in a small church in Warwickshire. It was a private and exclusive ceremony, attended by the Falkners, the Berkeleys, and a few carefully selected guests of special rank and significance. It was important to Mira, who already had trepidations about her social responsibilities as Alec's wife, to keep the ceremony small and to avoid the theatrical aspects of the situation as much as possible. Already society gossip and several London publications were treating her marriage into the Falkner family as a sensational drama… the unofficial headlines were widespread and very popular. There was an element of mystery about Mireille Germain, since no one knew exactly who she was or where she was from. There were rumors that she was originally from a well-to-do French family, and rumors about her involvement with Sackville, and controversy about where and when she had first been "discovered" in England… but nothing was ever proven or disproven. For the most part, she was an intriguing figure who had been brought into prominence by her association with the Berkeleys… and now with the Falkners.
In private, Alec had unequivocally refused the offer of a dowry from Rand and Rosalie. However, Alec did make provision for Mira to receive a number of dower lands and a castle somewhere in southern England. "In case anything ever happens," he had told her gravely, "this is yours, and no one will ever be able to take it from you. So no matter what the Falkners or anyone else may threaten you with, know that—"
"I don't want lands or a castle," she had said, sud-denly shuddering at the thought of losing him. "I just want you with me always."
"I'm not going anywhere, wench." And despite the teasing way he had said it, Alec had taken her into his arms tenderly, trying to reassure her with the strength of his grip that the last thing he intended was to be apart from her.
Mira thought about that conversation now as she and Alec stood at the front of the church. Though a thousand thoughts ran through her mind in an endless stream, she was conscious of the smallest details of the ceremony… the brightness of the candle flames against dark mahogany, the mellow, aged scent of the wooden pews, the rustle of her ivory satin wedding gown, the powdery fragrance of roses. Her hands felt cold and frail as she stood with them clasped together, for despite the certainty that all of this was right, she was still nervous. At the proper time in the ceremony, Alec took her fingers in his strong, warm ones, and Mira watched as the Geminal ring was lifted from the pages of the Bible on which it had been placed. The Geminal was made of two gold bands that twisted together and interlocked into one. Because her hands were so much smaller and daintier than Alec's, her half of the ring had been altered to fit her more snugly. Slowly and deliberately he slid the band on her finger and repeated the vows. "I, Alexander Reeve Falkner, take thee, Mireille Germain…" She stared up at him, drowning in his crystalline gaze, unable to believe that all of this was really happening. After the next few minutes were over, she would belong to him, and she would be able to claim him in a way that no other woman would ever be able to do.