by Maya Banks
The sides hadn’t been divided into bride’s and groom’s. His men were the only attendants and so they lined both sides of the elaborately decorated arch, a show of support for both him and Evangeline. Evangeline was equally represented, a fact Drake would have ensured if his men hadn’t stepped forward to do exactly the same of their own accord.
Maddox took a step forward now so he stood directly behind Drake. Where Silas would stand once he was finished helping Evangeline and her father down the aisle.
“Any second thoughts?” Maddox murmured.
“Hell no!”
Drake winced at the sudden explosive denial and glanced apologetically at the minister, who looked faintly amused.
Maddox chuckled. “Didn’t think so.”
Drake scowled. Then why the hell ask? But he didn’t dignify his man’s teasing with a response. He checked his watch again. What could be taking so long? Evangeline had been ready before she’d arrived at the church. That was half an hour ago.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead and panic gripped his insides. What if she was the one having second thoughts? He turned, his intention to go find Evangeline and hustle her down the aisle—proprieties and ceremony be damned, when music suddenly swelled over the interior and the door at the end opened, bearing Evangeline’s mom, escorted by Silas.
Wait a minute. Silas was going to walk behind Evangeline’s father and push his wheelchair so Evangeline would be on her father’s arm. If he was escorting Brenda, then who would make sure Evangeline and her father got down the aisle with no issue?
Hell, he’d go down and get Evangeline himself if it came to it. There was no way he was taking any risk that she had too much time to reconsider. The mere idea of coming this close and her not marrying him? It didn’t bear thinking about.
Silas seated Brenda and brushed a perfunctory kiss over her cheek. Brenda smiled up at the big man and the two exchanged words, which had Drake frowning. If there was anything to be said regarding Evangeline, then it needed to be said to Drake. Not Silas. Not any of his men.
Then Silas turned, his gaze finding Drake’s and with a lazy grin, he hurried back down the aisle, disappearing behind the closed door. Not even thirty seconds later, the music changed, not to the traditional wedding march, but to “Ode to Joy,” a song Evangeline loved and one she had said was the most representative of their union.
Drake agreed.
The double doors swung wide and remained open, and then Drake saw her.
All the breath left his body and he swayed, adjusting his footing so he didn’t humiliate himself by going to his knees. But Jesus. Never had he seen a more beautiful sight than his angel draped in the most elegant white dress. She shimmered from head to toe, adorned in his jewels. Her blond hair fell in waves down her back, unbound, not a single strand upswept. No veil obscured his vision of her face, a fact for which he was extremely grateful.
Her soft smile was radiant, lighting up the entire church. It was as though the roof had been peeled away and the sun’s rays shone down on them all. Her vibrant blue eyes sparkled with so much love and happiness that Drake had to swallow back the knot of emotion threatening to choke him.
She stepped forward on her father’s arm, Silas carefully pushing the wheelchair so Evangeline set the pace. Her father’s face shone with pride, his chest puffed out, head held high but in his eyes was a clear warning to Drake.
I’m giving you my dearest blessing. Make her happy or I’ll make you suffer.
Well, her father had nothing to worry about on that account because if Evangeline wasn’t happy then Drake suffered. Period. Her happiness was his happiness. Her misery was his misery. And, God willing, neither would ever know a day of sorrow again. As long as Drake had Evangeline, he couldn’t imagine ever feeling the barren emptiness that had been his entire life before her.
The closer they got to where Drake was standing, the more powerful the urge was for Drake to go to her, to sweep her into his arms and haul her before the waiting minister so they could get on with making her his. Legally, that is. Because she was already his and nothing, no legalities or anything else, would ever change that fact.
Marriage, or rather the official act of marriage, had never meant anything to Drake. Until now. In his mind, a piece of paper and a man of God’s words meant nothing to him nor to anything he claimed as his. But he’d found himself surprisingly adamant about the matter of marriage.
Evangeline had softly told him that if marriage wasn’t what he wanted, if it made him uncomfortable, they didn’t have to do it. Him loving her was enough.
Fuck that.
He’d damn near exploded, his insides turning to ice when she’d made her statement. His first reaction had been to tell her that they were getting married and that it was not just important, it was everything to him. His second thought had made him sweat and he’d demanded to know if she was having regrets. And did she not want to get married?
He shook off those moments of despair and refocused on the vision before him. God, she was so beautiful. And his. She was completely and utterly his.
Silas slowly pulled the wheelchair to a stop and Evangeline turned, momentarily only having eyes for her father. Tears glistened in the older man’s eyes and Drake suddenly had a glimpse of the future. Him in Grant Hawthorn’s place. Drake giving away his and Evangeline’s daughter in marriage. It was a humbling and terrifying sensation all in one.
Giving their daughter away in marriage? Like hell. Their daughter would never marry—or ever have boyfriends—if Drake had anything to say about it. He was perfectly okay with his men being the only males in his daughter’s—or, perhaps someday, his daughters’—lives. And even they would only be there to protect their lives. He shuddered at the very idea of daughters in the plural sense. As in more than one. Just as quickly, he suddenly pictured a half dozen daughters, all miniature replicas of Evangeline. He could feel the blood leaving his face and his knees growing weak. Six mini angels? He would be so fucked . . . and completely delirious with joy.
Evangeline kissed her father and he squeezed her hand before once more looking in Drake’s direction. The men exchanged nods that spoke volumes. They had an understanding. Drake could well understand the other man’s position.
Silas pushed the wheelchair to the pew so it would sit on the outside just beside where Brenda Hawthorn sat and then he took Evangeline’s hand and brought her slowly to Drake, connecting her hand to Drake’s.
“Take good care of her,” Silas said gravely.
“Always,” Drake vowed.
Then Silas melted away and it was only Drake and Evangeline. Evangeline’s tiny hand in his. The others melted away. There was only Evangeline for him. No one else mattered. He stared hungrily at her, so relieved that this day had finally arrived, never mind that it had been only two weeks since his angel had forgiven him and had taken him back. Those two weeks—and the four before them—had seemed like an eternity.
Now the only eternity he contemplated was the eternity he planned to spend with his wife.
“Drake,” she whispered, tugging gently at his hand.
He frowned, sure this wasn’t part of the ceremony. She smiled up at him, taking his breath completely away.
“The minister is waiting,” she continued whispering.
Ah fuck. He’d been so immersed in staring at her, taking in what belonged to him and thanking God for it that he’d just stood there like some gawking fool instead of proceeding with the ceremony. Oh well. Who could blame him? He was marrying the sweetest, most beautiful woman—inside and out—in the world. If that didn’t warrant a few moments of staring while flabbergasted, what did?
“Can’t have that,” he murmured, tightening his hold on her hand. Then he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, knowing that this too wasn’t part of the planned ceremony. “I love you, Angel. I love you so damn much. Thank you for loving me.”
Evangeline’s smile warmed him to his toes. She didn’t look terribly
upset over his breach in etiquette, or that the minister stood waiting, amused exasperation in his eyes.
“I love you too, Drake. Now don’t you think we’ve waited long enough? It’s time for us to get married.”
Hell yes it was. The longer he held things up, the longer it would be before he had her in their honeymoon suite making love to her until they both went blind.
As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, she grinned, mischief flashing in her eyes. Dear God, he suddenly had no clue or remembrance of anything having to do with the actual details of the ceremony and they’d even gone through a fucking rehearsal the night before, of all things. As if he needed coaching on how to make the woman he loved his! Only now his mind was consumed with only images of Evangeline—his wife—in his arms, in his bed, wrapped sweetly around him while he made love to her as many times as humanly possible. And even after he’d exhausted them both, he’d still be thinking about making love to her and plotting the next moment when he slid into her welcoming body. Hell, he just might spend the rest of his life with his dick as far inside her sweetness as he could go. He could certainly think of worse ways to spend what years he had left on this earth.
He’d never believed in heaven and hell but in short order Evangeline had made him keenly aware of both. Because when he was with her? Heaven. Absolute heaven. And without her . . . the very worst sort of hell. And well, if he had heaven to look forward to with Evangeline after their last day on earth? He suddenly didn’t mind the idea at all.
Heaven was where angels came from and Evangeline was the sweetest of all angels. He wasn’t a worthy man nor had he done anything to deserve redemption or even a glimpse of heaven and yet in Evangeline’s arms, he’d been closer than any man could ever hope to get to such goodness.
Once more Evangeline tugged at his hand and he shook himself from his silent perusal of his angel, blinking in confusion. Laughter glittered in her eyes as though she were enjoying a joke at his expense.
“I think this is where you kiss me,” she whispered.
Kiss her? They’d already gotten to the best part of the whole damn thing? Oh hell yeah. Kissing her he could definitely do. Something he planned to do a lot of. Next to the part where the minister declared them man and wife, kissing her was the best part of the ceremony.
With infinite reverence, he ran his fingers and palms down her face, caressing her pink cheeks, touching the fullness of her lips until he cupped her chin in his hand and then he leaned down to capture her mouth, shivering when she gave a breathy sigh of contentment.
No matter how often he kissed her—and he’d done little else since having her back—it was still like the first time all over again. Never would he get enough of her touch. Her warmth and her love.
His kiss deepened until he felt her lean fully into him, completely surrendering to his need to be as close to her as possible. Around him, seemingly a great distance away, he heard sounds of amusement, laughter, even teasing but he didn’t give a damn. Not when he had what he loved most in his arms.
And if he wasn’t mistaken and he had indeed paid correct attention to the trial run from the night before, kissing his bride came after the minister declared them man and wife. Which meant he was kissing his wife. His angel. The mother of his child and of the many children he’d promised to give her in the future.
“Mine,” he murmured before plunging his tongue deeply into her mouth, uncaring of who witnessed his passionate declaration.
“Yours,” she whispered back. “Always and forever, Drake. I will always love you and I will always be yours.”
He closed his eyes as the betraying sting of tears burned his eyes. God but he loved this woman. More than he ever imagined loving another living person. For that matter, he’d never imagined anyone loving him. And yet the woman in his arms, the woman he’d just married loved him—had loved him—without conditions, strings. She’d never doubted him and she’d forgiven the unthinkable not once, but twice.
He gave up trying to suppress the wash of emotion that had flooded his very soul and he buried his face in her beautiful hair. He inhaled, taking her scent deeply so that it became a permanent part of him.
“I love you too, Angel,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll always love you. There will never be another woman for me.”
She pulled away, concern in her eyes as she reached to cup his cheek. “Drake, darling, what’s wrong?”
She looked alarmed as she studied his expression, no doubt seeing the evidence of tears in his eyes. Before he would have killed himself before ever allowing another person to see any perceived weakness in him. But with Evangeline? He knew he would always be safe with her.
“Not a damn thing,” he said, smiling down at her. “If I’m not mistaken, the ceremony is over and you’re my wife, Mrs. Donovan.”
He was absurdly delighted by hearing his last name associated with her, but then judging by the sudden joy that lit up her eyes, he wasn’t the only one gripped by that savage satisfaction.
“Which means,” he said, reaching for her hand in preparation of hauling her down the aisle—now his wife—“that it’s time to take my wife on her honeymoon.”
Laughter rang out over the church and he marveled at how beautiful the carefree sound was. They’d made it roughly three steps when Drake’s own joy took over and reality set in that this loving, generous woman was his! He swung her into his arms and carried her down the aisle, but he didn’t stop at the door, took no time to visit with well-wishers nor did he wait for his men to catch up. He simply carried her to the waiting car, and he made love to Mrs. Evangeline Donovan on their way to the airport.
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