Where the Library Hides (Secrets of the Nile #2)

Capítulo TRES

CAPíTULO TRES

The inside of the church was even more beautiful than the exterior. At the foot of the grand room stood an altar, and beyond, lotus-shaped inlaid wooden panels decorated the walls. Three aisles divided up the space with rows and rows of wooden pews. And on the eastern end, there were three sanctuaries tucked nearly out of sight. Automatically, I began moving in that direction, curious to see the elaborate screens adorned in ebony and ivory.

Whit hooked his arm around my elbow, swinging me toward him.

“The art caught my eye,” I explained. “I just want a closer look at the pattern. Perhaps I’ll bring my sketchbook next ti—”

Amusement creased the corner of his eyes. “Have you forgotten why we are here?”

“Of course not. I was only curious—”

“Inez.”

“Whit.”

“We have to move quickly,” he said, exasperated. “Before anyone notices we’re gone. Because we’re secretly getting married .”

I grinned, and he smiled. We might have been back on Philae, examining the ancient reliefs on the walls, drinking terrible coffee, and getting our hands dirty.

“The chaplain is waiting,” Whit added. “And where’s… oh.” He let out a forceful sigh. “Let me just go wake him up.”

He strode off and I watched in bemusement as he approached an empty pew. No, not empty. There was a pair of boots hanging off the edge. Whit leaned forward and knocked them with his knee.

“Leo,” he said. “Wake up.”

I came to stand next to him and peered down at the sleeping man. His dark wavy hair flopped onto his brow, making him look quite young. I would have placed him a few years younger than Whit except for one thing: his mouth, even while reposed, was hard-edged and sardonic. He was dressed in a gleaming red coat—with a start, I realized I’d seen him before. It was one of Whit’s soldiers from last night.

“Leo,” Whit said again, this time raising his voice a notch.

Said Leo let out a symphonic snore.

“Typical. I can always count on him for all manner of dangerous activities, but if it’s something tame? He can’t be bothered to remain upright. Or awake,” Whit added in disgust. “Right. Let’s leave him.”

“Who is he exactly?”

“Our witness.”

“Ah. Shouldn’t he be awake for the ceremony?”

“I think the important thing is that he’s here. Come on; the sooner we’re back at the hotel, the better.”

I nodded. “Lead the way.”

Whit kept a hold on my arm as he did so, as if he was afraid I’d wander from his sight. He called out a greeting to a man waiting at the front of the church. He was young, with a mop of brown hair and a genial smile on his face. He had kind eyes, and in his hands, he carried an old, leather-bound Bible, opened near the back of the book. But instead of looking at the holy scripture, he peered at me. He wore a long pale robe that brushed against the stone floor.

“Good evening, miss,” he said as we reached him. “Before we begin, I suppose I ought to ask if you’re in trouble.” His voice was whisper soft. Great windows lined the sturdy wooden pews and soft light made patterned shapes across our faces, casting us in a silver glow. Candles were lit on the altar, wispy curls of smoke rising in beckoning circles.

I shook my head. “No trouble. Why?”

The chaplain cast an amused smile over to Whit. “Well… this is highly unusual. For one thing, where is your family? Your attendants? A maid?” He squinted. “Are you in mourning? And shouldn’t a bride have flowers?”

I was about to say none of that mattered—the missing family, my black dress. But his last question robbed me of breath, and I was unprepared for the wave of sadness that washed over me. “I would have loved flowers,” I whispered.

Whit glanced at me, brow puckering.

But then the chaplain spoke again, distracting me with his next words. “The groom has also brought a gun to his wedding.”

My husband-to-be was armed? I rounded on him. “Whitford Hayes, you will not be married with a gun attached at your hip.”

He laughed, removing the revolver from its holster. The familiar initials winked back at me in the soft lighting. He held it up, as if in surrender, and set it on one of the pews.

“An egregious oversight,” Whit said, sounding so much like his usual self that I couldn’t help but smile. “He’s still waiting for your answer to his question.”

“What question? Oh! Right, yes.” I licked my lips. “This is my decision.”

The chaplain nodded. “Then we can begin. Have you thought about your vows?”

I blinked. I hadn’t given much thought to the wedding other than arriving at the church in secret. It had been hard to evade Tío Ricardo’s notice. It was only after pretending to have a miserable headache that I was able to rush out of Shepheard’s.

“Yes,” Whit said.

“Vows?” I asked, the sanctuary growing warmer by the second.

“Well, I’m not going to write them for you,” the chaplain said with a laugh. He made the sign of the cross and launched into a lengthy speech about the responsibilities of marriage. I was too focused on coming up with my vows to pay attention. Worry skittered across my skin. This was my wedding day, the only wedding day I’d ever have in my life. It wasn’t what I expected or ever imagined. If nothing else, I wanted my promise to Whit to be perfect. Because one day, we could forget what the church looked like, what we wore, or maybe even the priest himself.

But I wanted to remember what I said next.

Somehow, I knew the words would stay with me for the rest of my life.

I wrung my hands and began to pace, going up and down the path before the altar, circling around the priest and Whit, and then down one of the three aisles. Dimly, I heard the chaplain’s voice trail off into a long pause before asking Whit if he ought to continue.

“She’s processing, but please continue until it’s time for the vows,” Whit said, amused. “She’ll come back eventually.”

“Er… right, then.” The chaplain cleared his throat and continued in a soft drone.

I spoke out loud, sometimes in a whisper, sometimes mumbling, as I agonized over every word. The chaplain tried to follow along with my ramblings but eventually gave up. He sat in one of the pews and quietly read his Bible as I worked through my vows. Leo continued to snore, the sound echoing off the stone walls. Whit watched my progress up and down the aisle with a slight smile on his face, and when I came to stand by him again, I knew what I was going to say.

“Have you finished, then?” the chaplain asked, coming to his feet. He resumed his former position in front of the altar, the Bible propped open.

I faced Whit and took his hands in mine. I lifted my chin and held his gaze steady with mine. “I’m ready.”

Leo woke with a loud groan and sat up, his head and shoulders the only thing visible from where I stood. Whit half turned. “Kind of you to join us, idiot.”

Leo blinked, gazing around the church, and his sleepy eyes focused on me. “Have I missed it, then?”

“Not entirely,” Whit said dryly.

“You may say your vows,” the chaplain prodded. Leo stood, swaying slightly, and came to stand behind us. His presence made me curious. This was someone from Whit’s past life, and a thousand questions burned at the back of my throat. I wanted to ask him every single one of them, uncover every detail about the Whit I never knew. The soldier and estranged son. Devoted brother and loyal friend.

“Stop thinking about everything you want to ask him,” Whit said. “You’ll have time to ask your questions after the ceremony.”

“How on earth did you know what I was thinking?”

“Because I know you.” He raised his brows. “Your vows?”

“Right.” I cleared my throat. “Whitford Hayes, I will honor and protect you but only obey you if you’re being reasonable. Actually, you might expect me not to obey you at all. It goes against my nature, and I’d prefer to begin marriage by being honest.” His lips twitched in response. Fortified, I pressed on. “I will be faithful, and I will respect you—unless you do something unworthy of it, then God help you.” I thought Whit would laugh, but he remained silent. “In sickness and in health, I will be yours for all the days of my life.”

Whit licked his lips, his face pale in the candlelight. “Inez, I will honor and protect you and lay down my life for you. In sickness and in health, I will be by your side.” He gave me a faint smile. “And I promise I will never expect obedience from you.”

“Do either of you have rings to exchange?”

I looked at the chaplain in bemusement. “Rings?”

“It is customary,” the chaplain helpfully explained, as if I didn’t know.

But I had come to the church not knowing if Whit would show up. The matter of the rings had never occurred to me.

“We have none,” Whit said.

“No? Oh well; I think it gives the situation a sense of pomp and ceremony.” Whit rolled his eyes, and the chaplain hastily added, “I pronounce you man and wife.” The chaplain grinned. “You may kiss the bride.”

I startled, somehow forgetting what happened at the close of the ceremony. The last time we’d kissed, we thought we were going to die within an abandoned tomb. Whit leaned down and brushed his mouth against mine. I tried to memorize the moment, to capture the warmth of his lips, the almost tender look in his blue gaze. But he pulled away only after a second and then thanked the chaplain, while I stood reeling from what we had just done.

“Congratulations,” Whit’s friend said to me. “I’m Leo.”

“I heard,” I said, looking him over. He was tall and lean, with disheveled black hair and shrewd dark eyes set under stern, thick brows. His look gave the impression of a grumpy raven, impatient to take flight. “And thank you.”

“You have family in Bolivia,” he commented.

“Yes,” I said, surprised. “How did you—” I broke off, remembering where I had first seen him. And with whom. “Whit told you.”

Leo nodded. “My parents are from Santa Cruz.”

But he spoke with a crisp English accent, and he fought for them, too. I opened my mouth to ask but he cut me off.

“It’s a long story, and worse, it’s a boring one.” He looked at me curiously, and I fidgeted under his scrutiny. “You’re not what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

Leo smiled. “I pictured a demure English lady with loads of money, I’m afraid. Covered in gemstones and gleaming pearls. Wearing a pastel dress.”

“Oh,” I said. “How strange.”

“Not really,” he said, frowning slightly. “I just described his former betrothed.” His expression cleared. “Don’t mistake me—I’m happy he married you instead. It’s just that I never thought he’d actually cut them off.”

“Cut who off?”

“His parents,” Leo explained. Then he reached for my hand and kissed it, before tugging Whit off to the side. They exchanged whispers back and forth, Leo gesturing wildly. Whit stood with his arms crossed, attention fixed on his boots. Whatever his friend was telling him, he didn’t like it in the slightest. My curiosity nearly overwhelmed me, but I forced myself to not interfere. Leo’s parting words swam in my mind.

I knew Whit hadn’t wanted to marry the woman his parents had chosen for him, and subconsciously, I knew that his parents would be displeased with his marriage to me. But I hadn’t realized Whit would be cutting his parents out of his life. I had been raised to value familial bonds that were governed by loyalty, and yet my time in Egypt had taught me that the human heart was quick to change. I couldn’t trust or depend on my mother, despite her being my mother.

Finally, Leo turned to go; the chaplain was waiting for him by one of the pews. Leo called over his shoulder, “You owe me, Somerset.”

Whit nodded and watched him leave, expression carefully blank. Then he glanced at me, the lines around his eyes softening. He walked toward me, holding out his hand. I took it, feeling the familiar calluses and rough palm. We trailed after Leo and the chaplain, unease making my breath hitch oddly. There was so much about him I still didn’t know, didn’t understand. I hoped I hadn’t made the biggest mistake of my life. Then Whit tucked a strand of my curly hair behind my ear, and the tension seeped out of me. I remembered everything I loved about him. He made me laugh, and he was loyal. He would honor his promise to me. I was sure of it. I’d made the right decision.

We were married.

Married .