Something Borrowed

Chapter 13

Amelia

The day of her wedding dawned dreary and gray. Amelia was up before the sun, sitting on threadbare cushion in the window seat with a neglected book in her lap and a candle burned down to a nub at her side. The book was a love story, and the words gave her pangs. Once upon a time, she'd been a naive little girl and love stories had been her favorite kind of tale.

Now...

Amelia didn't greet her wedding day with excitement. She didn't swell with hope or buzz with giddy anticipation. As the sun rose behind slate-gray, featureless clouds, all she knew was fear. It had planted its seeds in her mind the day she accepted Brent's brother's proposal, and had grown steadily ever since. It had claimed her mind and her heart with creeping tendrils of dread that squeezed every ounce of optimism and gratitude from her soul.

It wasn't the distant, fathomless future that scared her, either. It was the near-term threat. The stifling dread of what would surely befall her in this very room the night Josh claimed her as his.

He would hurt her. Even if he was gentle, as Brent had been, he would hurt her. Brent had hurt her, and she had loved Brent. His body had excited her, and she had wanted him. That sacred, private place between her legs had been hungry for him, and even so... even so, it had hurt. What would it be like with a man she didn't want? She imagined Josh driving into her with the same reckless abandon as Brent. It would tear her apart. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually... he would leave her in tatters.

She had thought about asking him if he would wait until after the baby was born. Maybe then her body would be more accommodating. But she quickly set that idea aside. His proposal was so generous, and some part of her knew he would care and provide for her child. She couldn't risk that to spare herself pain. He would want to take her to bed. What would he do if she denied him the one pleasure he stood to gain from their arrangement?

No, she wouldn't deny him. She would accept his body's demands, however much it hurt her. For her baby's sake. Her son. Lord, how she hoped it was a boy. She wasn't taken to praying, but she had pleaded with all her might-- just let it be a boy.

Dawn didn't break the morning of Amelia's wedding. There were no morning glories. There was no cheerful yellow ball of warmth peeking coyly out from beyond the distant hills. That morning, dawn slipped like oil into the sky, bleeding finality into the clouds. There was no going back. Amelia watched as distant figures crept like ants over the Tuckers' land, and knew her opportunity to flee under cover of darkness had passed. She was as committed now as she would be come noon, when she spoke those dreaded words and bound herself to a man she hardly knew.

Absently, Amelia listened to the grandfather clock downstairs chime the hours as they passed. Six o'clock as the horizon began to show signs of coming light. Seven o'clock as dreary, weary light illuminated the sprawling ranch. Eight o'clock as the house came awake. Normally, at eight o'clock she would prepare herself for breakfast, but the family had adjusted its plans in light of the day's festivities. The elder Tucker had gone to town to make legal arrangements. Her betrothed had left the night before to fetch the preacher. All who remained in the house were she and Melissa, and the small handful of household servants who flitted about in the background. They were around less often that Amelia would have expected-- employed more to help tidy and prepare for larger functions than to deal with the day-to-day.

The clock was chiming nine when Melissa arrived with a tray of food and a wide smile on her face. "We only have three hours!" she exclaimed, setting the tray down on the vanity as Amelia unfolded herself stiffly from the window seat. "We'd better get to work."