For a moment Laura was on the verge of bolting. Her fingers curled into Judge McKittrick's arm like claws.
Amusement in his voice, the judge bent his head and whispered, "Buck up, my girl. Every bride panics on her wedding day. My darling Emily fainted at the altar, though she claims it was because of the heat. Don't worry, you're getting yourself a fine man here.''
As Laura realized that she was suffering from wedding-day hysteria, her mood swung from terror to a wild desire to giggle. Absurd to imagine that Ian would scheme to lure her into marriage. She wasn't interesting enough to warrant such extreme measures. Besides, her own perceptions had confirmed the truth of what he had revealed to her.
She was struggling to keep her face straight when the judge handed her into the keeping of her future husband. Glancing up, she saw that Ian's expression was strained. He must be as nervous as she. All perfectly normal, since marriage was one of life's most important steps.
But Ian was her ally, not her enemy, and she wanted to be with him. Reaching out, she clasped his hand and together they turned to face the minister.
"Dearly beloved..."
As Reverend James intoned the familiar words, her tension eased. The only difficult moment was when the minister said, "First, it was ordained for the procreation of children..."
Laura involuntarily flinched. She had been to her share of weddings, but never consciously noted that phrase. She almost glanced up into Ian's face, and only her knowledge that doing so would be unpardonably cruel gave her the control to keep her gaze forward. She and Ian might not be able to procreate, but the same service had just said that marriage was a holy estate not to be undertaken only to satisfy men's carnal lust. At least they were getting half of it right.
Then she was taking her vows. "I, Larissa Alexandrovna..." Not only was it her legal name, but Ian's acceptance of her heritage had made her want to marry under the name with which she had been christened.
It was Ian's turn next, and his faint Scots burr was more pronounced than usual. Then he slid the ring onto her finger. It was exactly what Laura had requested: a plain gold band, with no embellishment but their initials and the date etched inside.
Ian's deep voice was steady as he said, "... with my body I thee worship...," though his fingers tightened on hers. Laura felt another complicated pang. She had never recognized quite how earthy the wedding service was.
"Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." Laura felt a shiver of guilt when she heard the admonition. She would not be entering this marriage if she hadn't known that she could leave if she wanted to, but such a thought was dreadfully out of place on her wedding day.
Finally it was time for her new husband to kiss his bride, Ian's lips were firm and pleasant. As they touched hers, Laura realized with a small shock that they had never kissed before. Warmth flowed between them, easing her doubts. This might be a marriage like no other, but, by God, it was going to work. She would make sure of that.
* * *
With a sigh, Ian stretched out in the deep tub of hot water. After two years of living in filth, he never tired of bathing. And the relaxation the bath offered came none too soon, for if the week between engagement and marriage had been a strain, the wedding day had been even worse.
Too many jolly congratulations, too many heartfelt good wishes, too many knowing smiles. Just plain too many people; the weight of their interest and concern had been overwhelming.
The peace Ian had found traveling from Nanda in Laura's company had vanished almost as soon as they became engaged. He's been tempted to suggest that they marry by the old Scottish custom of jumping over a sword. Then they could set off for Bombay immediately.
But even though his nerves had stretched to near snapping point, for Laura's sake he had endured it. Every woman deserved a wedding day where she was the center of attention, and he would not deprive her of that. And it had been worth it, for she had been a luminous bride, her hand trembling, but her golden eyes glowing and her soft voice steady.
She had stayed close all day and her presence had enabled him to endure the wedding breakfast even though he was suffering from his worst headache in weeks. Finally the festivities were over and they had been driven in style to this luxurious pavilion where they were to spend their wedding night. The pavilion was owned by the wealthiest merchant in Baipur, who had given Laura the use of it in honor of his friend Kenneth Stephenson.
Ian and Laura had arrived at the pavilion just as the sun was setting among streamers of fiery light. Situated on the edge of a mirror-smooth little lake, it was an extremely romantic spot to spend a wedding night. Soft-footed servants had provided a supper, of which Ian had eaten nothing. Then the newlyweds had been ushered off to separate bathing rooms.