It was a way of living. No longer for self, but for someone else. Catherine loved Quin with a depth that was consuming. And she knew he loved her the same.
His thumb paused on her lip, and then he placed a single sweet and lingering kiss where his thumb had been. The feel of his lips sent shivers down her back and made her toes curl. “I love you.” He whispered the words across her lips, sealing them there.
“I love you.” She mouthed the words back, her eyes tightly shut with the power of her emotions.
“Marry me?” he murmured against her lips, then kissed her softly before retreating.
“Now?” she asked playfully.
“Right now,” he answered.
He offered his arm, and she took it. He led her down the hall and to the stairs. Catherine met the approving looks of Morgan and Joan, who were waiting for them.
Quin helped Catherine climb into the carriage, and then waved as Morgan and Joan took a hackney coach. The horses started off, and Catherine reached across the space between them to hold Quin’s hand. Words were too small for the moment, so she beamed, unable to restrain her joy. Quin’s smile was just as broad as they passed through the streets before pausing in front of a great green lawn leading up to a white church with spires reaching to the sky.
“King’s College Chapel,” Quin said as she studied the building. “Built during the Wars of the Roses and several decades after.” Quin alighted from the carriage and offered his hand to assist her. She took the step down onto the cobbled street and then observed the larger view of the building. Intricate stained-glass windows decorated the front of the structure, arches and spires reaching heavenward alongside the beautiful glass.
“Well, I think this even lovelier than St. James’s,” Catherine murmured as they approached the arched entrance.
Quin nodded to Morgan and Joan, who had just arrived. “It is impressive. I had Morgan inquire after an old friend who is the former chaplain. He agreed to marry us, and I, thankfully, had the insight to procure a special license before I left London…” He gave a devious smirk. “Just in case.”
“Just in case,” Catherine repeated, smiling.
Quin lifted her hand and kissed it as they walked through the entrance, passing into the impossibly tall chapel.
Catherine gasped as she took in the stained-glass windows that flanked either side of the center aisle of the chapel, depicting scenes from the Bible and Christ’s crucifixion. The large room was illuminated in a soft rose color from the light filtering through the windowpanes, which made it seem cozy and romantic. The pillars rose from the floor to the ceiling, holding up a fan pattern in the plaster or stone. She couldn’t quite decide which, because the height put them too far away, but the pattern was beautiful, captivating her. The wooden pews lined the aisle as they walked forward, and an older gentleman rose from the first pew, his arms wide in welcoming them.
“Ah, Your Grace,” the man greeted Quin. “It is a blessing to see you again, old friend. It’s been some time. And on such a happy occasion! Shall we begin?”
“By all means.” Quin led his bride to the altar.
Catherine peeked behind her to see Morgan and Joan following her entrance so they could stand beside them during the vows. She turned back toward the chaplain but heard footsteps and looked back toward the entrance.
“What in the—” Quin whispered softly, turning toward the entrance as well. Other people whom Catherine didn’t recognize filed into the building, all nodding to Quin as if honoring him.
The chaplain gave a wink to Quin. “You didn’t think I could keep a secret, did you?”
“I can’t believe—”
“We all miss you.” The chaplain held up a hand. “We understand you have a duty and responsibility, but that doesn’t mean we don’t miss your presence. You’re a good friend, Quinton. We honor you in this way.”
Quin nodded with an awed expression and turned to Catherine. “My fellow professors of the economics department and various others.”
Catherine nodded. “How kind of them.”
“Now, without further ado!” The chaplain opened the wedding service.
Catherine vowed her heart endlessly to Quin.
He promised the same, and before long they were declared husband and wife.
Quin grinned wolfishly as the chaplain announced that he could kiss the bride, and Catherine melted into his arms willingly, not caring that the kiss was performed in front of several notable Fellows of Cambridge University.
All that mattered was that she was Quin’s.
And he was hers.
Thirty-nine