Duke of Fyre (Braving the Elements #1)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

T he small church was awash with the soft glow of candlelight, the air heavy with the scent of lilies and anticipation. Lydia stood just outside the doors, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She smoothed down the front of her gown for the hundredth time, the ivory silk cool beneath her trembling fingers.

"Are you ready, my dear?" her father asked softly, offering his arm.

Lydia took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "Yes, Papa. I'm ready."

As the doors swung open and the first notes of the wedding march filled the air, Lydia felt as though she were stepping into a dream. The faces of the small gathering blurred as she focused on the figure standing at the altar. Elias Blacknight, the Duke of Fyre, cut an imposing figure in his dark coat, his raven hair gleaming in the candlelight.

As Lydia drew closer, she felt her breath catch in her throat. Elias's eyes, those piercing blue orbs that had haunted her dreams, were fixed upon her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. Was it her imagination, or did those eyes darken as they swept over her form?

When she reached the altar, her father placed her hand in Elias's. The Duke's fingers were warm and strong, and Lydia felt a jolt of electricity at the contact. She was rather certain that she noticed at least some surprise in the Duke's eyes as well - at least for a second, before he rearranged his expression into one of indifference again.

The vicar began the ceremony, his voice a soothing drone in the background as Lydia struggled to focus. She was acutely aware of Elias beside her, of the subtle scent of sandalwood that clung to him, of the way his thumb absently brushed against her knuckles.

"Dearly beloved," the vicar intoned, "we are gathered here today to witness the union of His Grace, Elias Blacknight, Duke of Fyre, and Lady Lydia Brandon. Marriage is a sacred bond, not to be entered into lightly..."

As the vicar spoke of love and commitment, Lydia found her gaze drawn to Elias. His profile was strong and aristocratic, his jaw clenched tight. What was he thinking? Was his heart racing as wildly as her own or was he entirely unaffected by all of this?

"Love is patient, love is kind," the vicar continued, his words seeming to echo in the small church. "It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud..."

Lydia couldn't help but wonder if love - or care, at the very least - would ever enter into this arrangement. She stole another glance at Elias, only to find him already looking at her. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, Lydia thought she saw a vulnerability in those blue depths that made her heart ache.

"Do you, Elias Blacknight, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?" the vicar asked. "Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, so long as you both shall live?"

Elias's voice was low and firm as he responded, "I do."

"And do you, Lydia Brandon, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, so long as you both shall live?"

Lydia swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, "I do."

As they exchanged rings, Lydia's hand trembled slightly. Elias's fingers were steady as he slipped the gold band onto her finger, but she thought she felt them linger for just a moment longer than necessary.

"With this ring, I thee wed," Elias said, his deep voice sending a shiver down Lydia's spine.

As Lydia placed the ring on Elias's finger, she was struck by the intimacy of the moment. This man, still largely a stranger to her, was now her husband. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"By the power vested in me," the vicar said at last, "I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Lydia's heart leapt into her throat as Elias turned to face her fully. For a heartbeat, their eyes met, and she saw a storm of emotions swirling in those blue depths. Then he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was chaste, though it sent a flutter to the pit of her stomach.

As they turned to face the assembled guests, Lydia caught sight of her sisters. Marian stood tall and proud, a reassuring smile on her face. Jane was barely containing her excitement, bouncing on her toes. And Diana... sweet Diana was cradling Mug in her arms, the little dog surprisingly well-behaved for once.

The sight of her family brought a lump to Lydia's throat. As she and Elias made their way down the aisle, she felt a pang of anxiety. What would become of her sisters now that she was leaving?

Outside the church, as guests threw rose petals and called out congratulations, Lydia pulled her sisters aside for a moment.

"I'll write to you all the time," she promised, her voice thick with emotion. "And I'll do everything I can to help you find suitable matches. You will not be forgotten, I swear it."

Marian squeezed her hand. "We know, Lydia. Don't worry about us. Just... be happy, alright?"

Jane nodded vigorously. "Yes, and tell us all the gossip about life as a duchess!"

Diana, still holding Mug, stepped forward. "Here's your little troublemaker," she said with a watery smile. "He's been very good, haven't you, Mug?"

As Lydia took Mug into her arms, she felt a presence at her back. Elias stood there, his expression unreadable as he regarded the small dog.

"Thank you," Lydia said softly, looking up at her new husband. "For allowing me to bring him."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Elias's lips. "Well, we couldn't very well leave a member of the family behind, could we? Besides, I think Peter will quite enjoy the little… thing."

The words, so unexpected, made Lydia's heart skip a beat. Before she could respond, Elias was guiding her towards the waiting carriage, his hand a warm presence at the small of her back.

After helping her into the carriage, he settled in beside her, Mug curled up contentedly at their feet, Lydia found herself studying her new husband's profile once more. The man beside her was now her husband, yet in many ways, he remained a mystery.

The carriage lurched into motion, carrying them away from everything Lydia had ever known and towards an uncertain future. As the church and her family faded from view, Lydia felt a curious trepidation flutter in her stomach.

"Your family seems... close," Elias said after a moment, breaking the silence.

Lydia nodded, surprised by his observation. "Yes, we are. My sisters... they mean the world to me."

"I'm sure they'll miss you," Elias replied, his tone neutral.

"As I'll miss them," Lydia said softly. Then, gathering her courage, she added, "I hope... I hope that in time, you and Peter might come to see them as family as well."

Elias turned to look at her then, his expression unreadable. "Perhaps," he said after a long moment. "Time will tell."

They lapsed into silence once more, the only sound the rhythmic clop of horses' hooves and the occasional whine from Mug. Lydia's mind raced with all that had transpired, with all that lay ahead.

She thought of Peter, the boy she had yet to meet but who already held a place in her heart. Would he accept her? Could she be the mother he needed?

And then there was Elias himself. Her husband. The thought still seemed surreal. She snuck another glance at him, only to find him already watching her. Their eyes met, and Lydia felt a jolt of... something. Attraction? Curiosity? Fear? Perhaps all three.

"You're very quiet, eh… wife," Elias said, his deep voice breaking through her reverie. "Are you having second thoughts already?"

There was a hint of humor in his tone, but Lydia sensed a underlying tension as well. "No, Your Grace," she replied carefully. "I'm simply... contemplating the future."

"Elias," he said suddenly.

"I'm sorry?"

"When we're alone, you should call me Elias," he clarified. "We are married, after all."

Lydia nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Very well... Elias."

The name felt foreign on her tongue, but not unpleasant. It was a small step, perhaps, but a significant one.

"Tell me, Lydia," Elias said after a moment, "what do you expect from this marriage?"

The question caught her off guard. She considered her answer carefully before speaking. "I expect to be a good wife to you, and a good mother to Peter. I expect to fulfill my duties as Duchess of Fyre to the best of my abilities. And I... I hope that in time, we might build a partnership based on mutual respect and understanding."

Elias nodded, seeming to mull over her words. "Those are admirable goals," he said at last. "I, in turn, will endeavor to be a good husband to you. I cannot promise you love, Lydia, but I can promise you honesty and respect."

"That's all I ask," Lydia replied softly.

As the carriage rolled on towards Fyre Manor, Lydia found herself filled with a quiet determination. This might not be the love match she had once dreamed of, but perhaps it could be something equally valuable. A partnership, a friendship even.

Elias turned to her then, his blue eyes intense as they met hers. "Are you ready?" he asked, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine.

Lydia lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "Yes, Your Grace-- Elias," she corrected herself. "I'm ready for whatever comes next."