Free I Am Juliet by Jackie French Page A

me …’
    Romeo repeated the words, each one quiet and clear, his gaze still on mine. ‘I, Romeo Montague, take thee, Juliet Capulet, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plight you my troth.’
    He let go of my hand. For a moment I felt bereft, till Friar Laurence gestured to me that I should take Romeo’s hand in mine again.
    I said the words steadily. I knew them from my cousins’ weddings. And what girl has not said them under her breath, imagining when they would be her own?
    ‘I, Juliet Catherine Therese Capulet, take thee, Romeo Montague, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plight you my troth.’
    Romeo reached into the pocket of his doublet and drew out a ring. It gleamed in the church’s shadows, gold, with a circlet of rubies. It was too large to be a woman’s ring. Perhaps it had been a present from his godfather or his grandfather. Now it was mine. He slipped it on the fourth finger of my left hand. I had to clench my fingers a little to keep it on.
    ‘With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship …’
    I flushed at the thought of the night to come.
    Romeo smiled at me, but his voice was steady. ‘… and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’
    We prayed, the friar’s voice over us.
    At last we stood. The friar said, ‘I pronounce that they be man and wife together. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’
    More words. So many words. I heard them not, not any one of them. For we were wed, his hand in mine.
    Finally we kneeled again, to receive Communion, then walked, still hand in hand, to the room behind the altar. I had never been there before, had not even known that it existed, but only had eyes for my new lord.
    We signed a book, and then some papers. I used my old name for the last time: Juliet Capulet.
    I walked from that room as Juliet Montague.

Chapter 12
    The friar gave us a half-hour together in his cell after the ringing of the bell. No more, or my family might wonder why I tarried so long at church.
    We sat on the narrow bed in the cell while Friar Laurence sat on the bench outside. For a moment I was afraid my new husband might want to consummate our marriage then and there. My body wanted him, but not like this, in daylight, with the friar at the door. Besides, I had no idea what I was supposed to do. If this had been a proper marriage — and yet it was, I told myself, for all its haste and secrecy — my mother might have prepared me.
    I glanced at Romeo. Did I imagine it, or was he as nervous as I was? He took my hand and kissed it; no lingering lover’s kiss, but one a knight might give his lady. He kept my hand in his.
    ‘Well,’ he said.
    ‘Well,’ I said at almost the same time.
    And suddenly we were giggling as though we were five years old, not husband and wife, not lovers who had defied their families, nor the couple who would yet unite them and bring peace within the city’s walls.
    ‘I think,’ he said, his voice tentative, ‘that night’s love must wait till night.’
    I nodded.
    ‘You’re not scared?’ he asked.
    ‘Of … of night matters? No,’ I said, although I was.
    ‘Of what our families will say tomorrow?’
    ‘Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,’ I said. ‘The Prince will be our friend.’
    He stared. I saw he had not thought about our union in this light. It struck me deeper than a dagger, that he had risked his name and fortune, all for me.
    ‘The Prince will have his wish,’ I said softly. ‘Our houses are united. You will be