Later, as the couple and their myriad guests sat down in the formal dining room of Vidal’s home to a sumptuous feast, complete with many bottles of the finest French champagne, Rosalind felt unable to stop smiling. Her cheeks actually hurt with it. This is real, it really happened.
Until her dying day, she would never forget how she had pledged herself, body and soul, to Vidal. He had returned the vow, his voice strong and confident. The priest had proclaimed them married.
She wrapped her arm around Vidal’s and leaned her head on his shoulder. Perhaps it was a little less than circumspect a thing to do, but Rosalind didn’t care. This is my wedding day, and I’m going to be as affectionate with my husband as I want. Even saying the word husband in the privacy of her mind made her smile wid
