Chapter 7

“Nothing will ruin your wedding tomorrow. And I’m usually right about everything.”

Aunt Nethanja’s words echoed in her mind. Eve sat before the vanity in the new home she’d clean from top to bottom. The mirror reflected her pale face, and large eyes heavy with distress. Her fingers went weak and she set the brush on the table.

Aunt Nethanja was wrong. Her wedding day was ruined. Ruined by Luc.

She pressed her trembling fingers against her mouth.

He’d kissed her.

Nothing in her life had prepared her for that. Had she known that Luc de Jeu would kiss her, that he would press his lips to her own, that his hand would splay across her back, burning her with his internal heat, she would have...

With an impatient sigh, she dropped her fingers from her mouth. “Ridiculous,” she breathed under her breath.

Everything had gone well until that moment. When she’d awakened after a fitful sleep, Aunt Nethanja had insisted she stay in bed. The mercantile owner’s wife came and gave her a special treat of breakfast in bed. Eva had wanted to decline the generous offer, but Aunt Nethanja would have none of it.

She enjoyed that bit even though she found it extremely extravagant. After breakfast, Aunt Nethanja and she took their time to prepare her for her wedding day. Her aunt, a woman used to fine things, but strangely comfortable in humbler settings, had insisted on a complete toilette.

By the time she was to put on the dress, she’d been perfumed, her undergarments fitted, and her hair brushed until it shone like a waterfall of dark gold. Aunt Nethanja had reached into her trunk and retrieved a silver comb edged with shimmery pearls. “A gift,” she’d said as Eva’s mouth fell open.

She hugged her aunt and kissed her cheek.

Standing before the small mirror, she’d watched as her aunt coiled her hair into an intricate knot, and with an almost reverent manner, placed the comb at the apex.

Fully adorned in her finery, Eva looked at herself in the mirror. Not even the sight of the birthmark could negate the effect.

“You look stunning.” The mercantile owner’s wife eyes shone with unshed tears. “Like the most beautiful bride in the world. I just adore weddings.”

A ghost of a smile had lifted her lips. It would have been nice to have Father and Mother and all her siblings with her. She met Aunt Nethanja’s gaze in the mirror who wiped a few tears from her eyes. “You’re lovely. Luc won’t be able to take his eyes off you. Wilhelmina and Johan would be proud.”

With that, Aunt Nethanja reached for a hat made of the same green color as Eva’s gown and placed it on her head. Eva couldn’t stop staring at herself. How could that woman in the mirror be ugly? She was beautiful.

Would Luc think so, too?

“You know,” Aunt Nethanja spoke in a low voice as she smoothed back an errant strand of hair, “when Luc sees you, he may want to make this a real marriage.”

Eva’s chin dipped and her hands became clammy. “Tante,” she murmured back in a reproachful tone.

She patted her cheeks. “He’ll be here soon to fetch you.”

The mercantile owner’s wife, who had been putting away the other paraphernalia, jerked around at this. “Mr. de Jeu is coming here?”

“Yes,” her aunt supplied.

“He can’t!” The woman’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide as saucers. “The groom can’t see the bride till she comes down the aisle at the church. It’s blasphemy!”

Though the butterflies in her stomach fluttered due to Luc’s impending arrival, Eva laughed. “I hardly think it’s blasphemy. It’s a Dutch wedding custom. The groom comes to the bride’s home with her bouquet and takes her to the church.”

“And we don’t even have a church nearby!” The woman groaned. “You poor thing.”

“Hardly, that!” Aunt Nethanja’s eyebrows drew inward. The fierceness of her aunt’s gaze quieted the woman as she went back to tidying the room.

“I wish you could stay, Tante.” Eva squeezed her hand. “I am going to miss you.”

They had been together for some weeks now. Growing up, she loved her aunt like a niece should. Her constant bickering with her mother, not so much. Yet, they’d grown closer and she for one, would miss her steady, no-nonsense hand.

“You’ll be fine.” Aunt Nethanja patted her shoulder. Her eyes slid away. “You’ll be fine,” she repeated.

“Are you trying to convince me of that, Tante? Or yourself?”

Her aunt stilled in an unnatural way. “Perhaps both of us,” she replied enigmatically.

Ten minutes after they had gone, Luc arrived.

“You look lovely,” he told her as he came into the room. An odd note entered his voice. “Very lovely,” he repeated. A bulge had formed in her throat, making it almost impossible to speak but she finally thanked him.

The bouquet he presented to her burst with orange blossom, calla lilies, and delicate yellow buttercups. She inhaled the sweet fragrance as she took in his appearance. How debonair and masterful he appeared. His hair neatly combed, and thick beard trimmed. The black suit clean and contouring to his lithe body.

“You look very handsome, Luc.”

As she scrutinized him, it shocked her to see his dark eyes roved over her. A strange light appeared in them. His gaze rested on her birthmark. It lingered for so long she was tempted to cover it with her hand, but she refrained from doing so. There was nothing repulsive or objectionable in his scrutiny. Far from it.

“Shall we go?” He gave a little bow.

She smiled and inserted her hand in the crook of his elbow. This close, he smelled wonderful. Warm and earthy with a hint of sandalwood about him. Underneath her fingertips, his muscles tensed.

“We shall.”

As they took their leave, she thought of how she would have preferred to arrive at her wedding according to custom. She let out a long sigh.

Luc stopped in his tracks. His brows had drawn inward, giving him a fierce mask. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m not. I was thinking if we had been in the Fatherland, things would have progressed differently.”

“In what way?”

“For one thing, the bruidstoet.”

“Ah.” He drew out the sound, giving a curt nod. “The parade.”

“Ja. You and I leading the way. One or two of my sisters throwing petals behind us.”

“Both of our parents,” he interjected. “My moeder would have loved meeting you, Eva.”

“And your vader?” She wasn’t sure why she asked.

“I’m sure he would have enjoyed it, too.” The careful voice let her know he didn’t want to dwell on his father. “What about your vader? Would he have approved of me?”

Eva blurted out unthinkingly, “My vader now, ja. Not my first one.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s not important,” she’d responded quickly. Why had she let that slip? She squeezed his arm. “Who would you have selected as witnesses?”

His face cleared and they began walking again. “Any of my associates would have done.”

“That’s something I’ve noticed about you,” Eva said. “You refer to your friends as associates.”

“What else would I call them?”

She peered up at him. “How long have you known them?”

“All my life.”

“And you don’t consider them friends?”

He said nothing as they strolled along. She thought he wouldn’t answer when he said, “Our vaders were friends. Lifelong friends. They’d all grown up together, all bore the same ambitions.” His mouth twisted. “I believe they thought as though their bond of friendship would extend to their sons.”

She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

The wedding took place outside on the riverbank. They made use of a flowered patch that was far enough from the river to not get muddied but close enough to enjoy its beauty. Along with Luc’s friends and her aunt, there were several people who had come that she didn’t know.

“Who are all these people?” she’d asked as they neared the place.

“I’ve no idea.” Luc frowned.

They’d learned later that Friar Jack had spread the word about the wedding to the locals and they wanted to come. She’d stood next to him as the dominee performed the ceremony. Repeating her vows, she’d been filled with quiet joy. Several times, Luc’s eyes had drifted toward her, as if he couldn’t help but look at her.

When the ceremony was done and the dominee had finished, they had turned to go when someone shouted out, “Kiss her! Kiss her!”

Luc had stiffened in a violent way. The muscles under her hand that she’d placed on his arm had hardened like wood.

Then everyone, from her aunt, to Luc’s associates, Friar Jack—the entire world! began to echo the cry. “Kiss her! Kiss her!”

“Eva?”

Her hand jerked involuntarily, and the brush clattered to the floor. Her heart thumped in her chest as she met the gaze of her husband as he stood in the doorway

His brow wrinkled. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Nee.” She retrieved the brush from the floor. “You didn’t.”

A jittery sensation overtook her limbs. Had he grown another three inches? His presence loomed and permeated the room in a way she’d not experienced before. She was aware of those broad shoulders her hands had clung to when he’d taken her in his arms. Underneath her fingers, they rolled as if trying to mold themselves to the curve of her palms.

“You were staring intently at your reflection.” He came further into the room and her heart galloped faster. “Is there something on your mind?”

“I was ... preoccupied,” she finished lamely.

Her cheeks flushed as she averted her eyes although she couldn’t get the vision of him out of her head. He was dressed in a long white nightshirt that strained the breadth of his chest. The V of his neck exposed the strong column of his throat. His hair-roughened legs resembled two strong columns of muscle with large flat feet.

More than that, his body pulsed with something that called within her. Before, she would have said it was his forceful nature. No, this was more than that. Like a threatening thunderstorm, the awareness of Luc brewed. The moment his lips touched hers, something had awakened.

“Why did you kiss me, Luc?”

She hadn’t meant to ask the question, but she couldn’t get the event out of her mind. She twisted around to meet his gaze. Right before he kissed her, she’d glanced into his eyes. They weren’t as dark as she’d suspected but a warm chocolate brown.

“Why does any man kiss a woman?” He walked over to the bed and her eyes followed him. Once seated, he continued. “Because he wants to.”

She swiveled away and looked back at her reflection. “Did you want to?”

“Why do you doubt me?”

Eva bit her lower lip. “I thought perhaps that the crowd’s urging had—”

“Eva, look at me.”