The Roswell Legacy Frances Statham (mini ebook reader .txt) 📖

to their decision to marry, especially with her mother’s blessing on the union. But sometimes relatives could be cruel to young lovers, needlessly putting obstacles in their way and ultimately parting them forever. And she didn’t want that to happen to Jonathan and Ginna. They deserved their happiness.

But it was a pity that they would only have one night together as husband and wife. Morrow knew that Jonathan had discussed it with Andrew, who had pointed out that the marriage would have to be consummated so that it could not be annulled later on. But to share a bed for longer than one night would be too risky for Ginna. If the ceremony were to remain secret for a time, then Ginna could not afford to become pregnant.

Morrow moved closer to Andrew as the minister began to intone the words of the ceremony.

Standing before the small altar of flowers, Ginna held on to the nosegay that Allie had made up for her with the pink roses in the garden and bits of white baby’s breath tied with long, white satin streamers. Morrow’s white lawn dress had been taken in slightly to fit Ginna, and even her shoes had been borrowed from Morrow’s closet.

“Do you take this woman …”

“I do.”

“And you, Ginna Forsyte, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband …”

“I do.”

“By the powers invested in me through the covenant of God and the state of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Ginna looked up at Jonathan. His dark eyes held the same loving expression as they had on that day when he’d first given her the ring of emeralds and diamonds. Now the same ring was once again placed on her finger, for she could not yet wear a wedding band for all the world to see. That would come later, when she put on the creamy peau de soie dress and the family veil and was given away by her father in the parlor of the brownstone, in the presence of Martha, her bridesmaid, Araminta, her mother, and Jonathan’s parents, Allison and Rad, and perhaps Cassie and Stanley. That is, if Cassie was well enough to come.

Jonathan’s kiss was gentle, tender, as the minister looked on in approval. And then the ceremony was over, with Morrow and Andrew hugging her and welcoming her into the family.

Now she was a part of them, twice over—related by birth to Morrow and by marriage to Jonathan.

“Come into the dining room,” Morrow urged. “Allie has made a wedding cake and we have iced champagne.”

For Ginna, that afternoon was made up of small vignettes and impressions. She was like an onlooker in a dream, knowing that what was happening involved her. She was the bride who had said “I do” in the garden. And in the dining room, she was the one who cut the first slice of cake with Jonathan’s strong hand guiding hers. The two drank from the same goblet. And she politely answered Morrow and Andrew, and even thanked the minister before he left.

But now, three hours later, with the wedding supper over and the house returning to near normal, she waited for Jonathan to slip into her bedroom. She sat up in bed, her brown hair loosened against the embroidered linen of the pillowslip, and gazed toward the open windows and the stars that had begun their nightly journey in the heavens.

And then she heard the handle of her door and Jonathan’s voice whispering, “Ginna.”

“Yes, Jonathan.”

The door closed quietly, and in the shadowed room, she watched as he made his way to her side.

“I have just spent the longest hour of my life,” he whispered, “waiting for everyone to go to bed. In the hallway, I felt like some philandering fool in a farce, waiting to be caught out.”

Ginna giggled. “I read a play once where the hero wound up in the wrong bedroom. I must say, I wouldn’t like it much if you had stumbled into Nanny’s room tonight.”

“And I would have liked it even less, I assure you, darling.”

With the endearment, the playful tone vanished from Jonathan’s voice. He was now the impatient bridegroom come to spend the night with his bride.

He came to her in the darkness, and his slow, sensual caress was part of the eloquent language of love, a prelude to deeds that would bring new meaning to utterances of the heart: I love you. I want you.

He spoke them all—the phrases that Ginna had longed to hear from his lips, the same truths, the same ageless desires that lie so tenderly under the surface of every young girl’s mind as she dreams of her prince.

But this was no dream. Ginna was in Jonathan’s arms. She felt his bare flesh against hers, muscles and sinews straining, arms entwined, and mouth against mouth, drawing a sweetness inexorable. Pain and pleasure became one and then the other, while giving and taking became the same, too. And the world outside no longer existed. Only two lovers entwined, while the stars shone and the waves lapped against the shore in perfect rhythm to the pulse of love.

“My darling, Ginna,” he cried.

“Jonathan. My dear, sweet husband.”

With the gentle breeze finding its way into the room through the open windows, Ginna and Jonathan lay awake, determined not to waste their one night together in sleep.

“I feel sorry for the world outside,” Jonathan said. “For people who’ve never known love like this.”

“I think Morrow and Andrew must know,” Ginna said.

“You may be right. But it’s rare in this world.”

“I want to be such a wonderful wife to you, Jonathan. I’ll always love you for what you are and what you’ve done. I was in such despair ten days ago when I left home. Now I’m almost afraid, I’m so happy.”

“There’s no need to be afraid, Ginna. Ever again. I’ll always cherish you and protect you.”

Ginna sighed. “I don’t think I can stay awake much longer, Jonathan. I’m so sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep, my darling.”

As the sun