He watched her with the same greedy expression a wolf uses when it spies a lone lamb. She was walking towards him, hesitating between each step as if each movement forward may result in her death. Her eyes were carefully cast downward, staring at the floor as though it may swallow her up at any moment. He smiled when he watched her lower lip tremble.
She looked stunning… clad in one of the finest white gowns London had to offer and clutching a bouquet of flowers he had picked up from a street vendor. She was so pale and lovely under the fading sunlight. His gaze moved slowly down her figure, and again the corner of his lips twitched with anticipation. He'd fancied Lucy alright, but Johanna had certainly been worth the wait.
Finally she came to his side. He grasped her arm firmly, and felt her tense up beneath his touch. The few remaining steps to the church's altar seemed to take forever, and if this hadn't been a solemn occasion, he would have snapped at his ward to pick up her feet. But as it was, he let her take her time. They were, after all, the last steps she would take as a single woman. He could not blame her for wanting to cherish them.
The priest launched into a long winded spiel about marriage and he found himself gritting his teeth, hoping the man would hurry up. And yet, another part of him wanted to savor it… savor the moment when Johanna finally and completely became his. He took a peek at his young bride, and found her eyes were glazed over with tears, though none had yet fallen. Again, his jaw clenched. This should have been a joyous day for her… he easily could have cast her out on the street, and watched while she whored herself out for a scrap of bread. Not every woman had the remarkable opportunity to marry a judge in such high standing.
Finally the time came for the rings to be exchanged. He turned to the girl, taking her hand in his. He felt the sudden shift of her body, as if she were getting ready to run. In response, his grip tightened around her hand, and his eyes locked onto hers. He shook his head slowly, unnoticeable to either the priest or the Beadle, both bearing witness. Johanna looked up at him, bit her lower lip, and quickly looked away as a single tear trailed down her right cheek. He slid the ring upon her finger, and waited while she did the same. Her eyes were wide with fear, and her hands trembled as she finally pushed the golden ring onto his finger. She quickly pulled her hand back, but he grabbed at it, locking his fingers around her wrist, and then turned to look at the priest.
He listened to the man babble again, waiting for the pause in his speech that would give him leeway to finally kiss Johanna. When that moment came, he turned once more to his ward. He found her staring at the floor again, chin tilted down like a beaten dog. He grasped the end of her chin, bringing it up and forcing her to look at him. Then, and not without a smile, did he kiss his wife for the first time. His lips meshed with hers, and a split second later he could taste the salt of her tears on her lips as they trinkled down her face. He pulled away, giving her a lingering, claiming look.
You are mine.
Authors Note: Just a little one-shot drabble. I've always found the relationship between Turpin and Johanna quite interesting though creepy, and had a very clear image in my mind of what their wedding would be like if Johanna had been forced to go through with it. I do apologize that my wedding image may be a bit modern for old school London. Reviews are very very very appreciated. :3