by Day Leclaire
At some point the storm had passed, leaving the air scrubbed clean of humidity and filled with the delicious scent of early summer. A soft mist rose around the carriage, giving everything a fairy-tale quality. They rode through streets lined with Verdonians who cheered her passage. In no time they arrived at the chapel and Joc literally lifted her from the carriage and swung her to the flagstone entranceway.
“You know I only want the best for you,” he said gruffly.
“Of course I know that.”
“I’d hug you, but you’re all—” He gestured to indicate her veil and dress. “I don’t think I can wade through all that and back out again without getting it messed up.”
She smiled, though she doubted he could see it through the veil. “I appreciate your restraint.”
He offered his arm. “You ready?”
She took the question seriously. Was she ready? There were certain aspects of her future life with Lander that worried her, mainly living as a public figure. She’d spent a lifetime fighting the negative labels affixed to her name. How long would it take before she went from acclaimed to infamous again? It could happen. Public favor was a fickle thing.
And then she thought of Lander and how she felt about him. How much richer her life had become now that he was a part of it, and nothing else mattered. Nothing. “I’m ready,” she said, and slipped her hand into the crook of Joc’s arm.
Music drifted from the dim interior, Handel’s “Minuet.” They paused in the foyer where attendants straightened Juliana’s gown and unhooked the train, spreading it behind her. “His Highness said he cut these himself,” one of the women whispered, handing her a bouquet of fragrant white roses. “He said you’d know where they came from.”
The gazebo. Tears sprang to Juliana’s eyes and she started to lift the heavy blossoms to her nose, but the veil prevented her. As though realizing she was on the verge of ripping through the layers of lace and tulle, Joc urged her toward the sanctuary. The rippling majesty of horns broke into Stanley’s “Trumpet Voluntary” the minute she appeared.
And that’s when she saw Lander. He stood at attention waiting for her, dressed in full military whites, including a chest rippling with medals and an ornate saber belted at his hip—the Lion of Mt. Roche at his most majestic. Late-afternoon sunlight struck the stained glass windows on the west side of the chapel. The colors shattered, forming a rainbow of hues leading from where she stood to where she most wanted to be.
And then she was walking toward him. No, not walking. Floating, as though in a dream. The wedding service began, vanishing into the mists of memory almost as soon as it occurred. She vaguely recalled Joc joining her hand with Lander’s. Father Lonighan spoke at length, his deep voice rumbling over her. Through it all, her full attention remained on the man professing to love, honor and cherish her, to protect her from all harm.
One of the clearest moments of the ceremony, a shard so piercing in intensity that it would forever remain a part of her, was when he slipped a pair of rings on her finger. The first was a heavy band of gold studded with Verdonia Royal amethysts. The second had her catching her breath. Instead of Soul Mate, he slid a far different ring on her finger, a delicate confection of diamonds and amethysts in a trio of unusual shades that complemented the earrings he’d given her earlier.
“I had it designed just for you,” he murmured so only she could hear.
“Does it mean something?”
“Of course.” His hazel eyes glowed with tenderness. “We’ll see how long it takes you to figure out.”
There wasn’t further opportunity to speak. Father Lonighan gave them a final blessing, and the ceremony concluded with their being declared husband and wife. As tradition dictated, Lander had waited until the very end to lift her veil.
“I’ve never seen you look more beautiful,” he told her.
Cupping her face, he took her mouth in the sweetest kiss they’d ever shared. Her eyes drifted closed as she lost herself in his embrace. The only thing that would have made the moment more perfect would have been if he’d told her he loved her. Just as the kiss ended, trumpets flared to life in a triumphant recessional. Lander took her arm and escorted her down the aisle and then outside where a roar of cheers greeted their appearance. The sun dipped low on the horizon spreading a rosy glow across the city. With a laugh, Lander swept his bride into his arms. Her train caught the breeze and billowed around them as he carried her to their waiting carriage. And in that moment Juliana didn’t think she’d ever been happier.
Nine
After the wedding, Lander hosted a dinner reception for close friends and relatives. Laughter flowed as easily as the sparkling wine, both bright and effervescent and full of good cheer. During those brief hours, Juliana knew what Cinderella must have experienced after she’d married her prince. A rightness. A completion. For the first time in her life, Juliana felt loved and cherished. She felt like a real princess.
Toasts followed the dinner, some funny, some poignant, others heartwarming. Just as the last glass was raised, the majordomo appeared, inviting the guests to adjourn to the balcony to watch the fireworks display celebrating the royal marriage. When Juliana would have followed, Lander caught her hand and urged her in the opposite direction.
“We’ll watch them from a more private location,” he told her.
She didn’t need any further encouragement. Gathering up the voluminous skirts of her wedding dress, she raced with him through the deserted corridors. At least, they appeared deserted. If security was stationed between the dining hall and Lander’s private wing of the palace, they remained well hidden.
The two of them arrived at his bedroom suite breathless with laughter. She couldn’t say what they’d found so amusing. Perhaps it was just their happiness bubbling over like uncorked champagne. Or maybe it was being alone together at last, the joyful anticipation of the hours to come. Pushing open the door, Lander swept Juliana into his arms and carried her across the threshold.
When he set her on her feet, she glanced around, her breath catching in her throat. Candles lit the room, dozens upon dozens of them on every surface, encircling them in a soft, warm glow. White rose petals were strewn across the carpet, providing a romantic pathway from door to bed. More of the petals were scattered on the satin sheets, their fragrance filling the room. Soft music issued from hidden speakers, and she paused to listen for a moment. It sounded so familiar. And then she realized why. The songs were selections from their wedding service.
“You did this, didn’t you?” she asked in a broken voice.
“I’m forced to admit, I didn’t light the candles. But, the rest…” He nodded. “I wanted it to be special for you.”
“Thank you.”
In the distance she heard a faint boom signaling the start of the fireworks, and she crossed to a set of French doors that opened onto the balcony. Lander joined her there, coming up behind and wrapping his arms around her waist, enfolding her in the warmth of his presence. They watched the initial fireworks in silence, a blaze of color and explosion of sound that celebrated their union.
Gently he turned her. “Come. Let’s get you out of that gown.”
“I’m sewn into it, you know. I’m told it’s traditional.” Did he hear the sudden nervousness in her chatter? But then, how could he miss it? “No one’s explained the origins to me.”
“I believe it’s to ensure the safe passage of the bride from her family’s loving arms to that of her husband. Proof that no one has touched her during the interim.”
“I’ve got news for you. There’s plenty of touching that can go on without the bride removing her dress.”
“Not if it’s done right.”
Juliana’s mouth twitched. “Good point.” She lifted an eyebrow. “So how do you propose to release me?”
“Like all good Verdonian husbands, I come prepared.” He picked up a jeweled dagger resting on the bedside table. “This is called a koffru.”
“I’m almost afrai
d to ask.”
“You should be. It’s a bride cutter.”
“Lovely,” she said dryly. “You’re going to cut me with that thing?”
He responded to her jibe with a grin. Pulling her close, he spun her around so her back was to him. “It’s not you I plan to cut. It’s your gown.”
“Don’t ruin it!”
“Trust me, wife.”
After sweeping her veil to one side, he sliced through the seam holding the back of her gown together with delicate precision. Inch by inch the knife skimmed down her spine until he reached her waist. And then it dove lower still, to a point just past her hips. Finished, he slid the dress from her body as well as the layered petticoat beneath. Offering her his hand, he helped her step free of the yards of satin and tulle. She stood before him, oddly self-conscious considering that they’d already been lovers, her only covering a few flimsy scraps of lace, her stockings, heels and garter, and her amethyst-studded veil and tiara.
“So beautiful,” he murmured as he unhooked the veil and set it aside. When she would have removed the tiara, he stopped her. “My job.” He slid the tiara from her hair, freeing the few curls that insisted on clinging to the jeweled hairpiece. “I wondered if you’d choose to wear this.” His voice deepened. “It’s in honor of my mother, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Tension gripped his jaw, while sorrow cut brackets on either side of his mouth. Seeing him like that nearly broke her heart. “I wanted her to be a part of the ceremony in some small way.”
“Thank you for that. She would have appreciated the gesture.” He placed the tiara out of harm’s way before turning back to her. “And now my favorite part.”
One by one Lander removed the pins restraining her hair, catching the loosened pool of curls in his palms. Behind her fireworks lit up the night sky, flinging brilliant flashes of color across the hard, masculine planes of his face. Rich, vibrant sparks of green glowed in eyes filled with unmistakable hunger.
She reached for him with trembling hands, fervent and unabashed, fumbling with buttons and zips as she helped him remove his clothing. If she lingered over the corded muscles she found beneath his dress whites, he didn’t complain, though she could feel the tension gathering across his shoulders. Nor did he complain when she followed the plunging vee of crisp, masculine hair that darted from chest to abdomen and farther still. She followed that line until she found the heart of his passion. She cupped him, stroked him, playing along the full length and breadth of him. It made her keenly aware of her own femininity and of his unrelenting maleness.
He took her mouth with a groan, plying her with fierce, desperate kisses. Her few remaining garments were a barrier swiftly eliminated and then it was her turn to be filled with an unnerving urgency, one painful in its intensity. He stroked her, the sensations growing hotter, headier, more concentrated. Just when her legs were on the point of giving out, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.
She drank in the aroma of the roses surrounding her, felt their silken caresses against her bare skin. But they were overlaid by another aroma and another caress, a more elemental, pervasively masculine one. He braced himself above her, touching, barely touching. Sliding with excruciating slowness. Rousing sensations that had her fevered one moment and chilled the next.
“Please, Lander. Now,” she urged. “Make love to me now.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. He lowered himself to her, crushing the rose petals against her skin in an explosion of scent. Palming her thighs, he parted her legs, releasing his breath in a rough sigh as she welcomed him home. He surged into the liquid warmth, sealing their wedding vows as he sheathed himself fully within her.
“My bride,” he whispered. “My princess. My wife.”
He moved then, taking her with the utmost tenderness and care. Stroke built upon stroke, gathering the heat, driving it toward a burning need, escalating toward a frenzied desperation that left her utterly exposed, utterly abandoned to this most intimate of embraces. Her muscles tensed in anticipation of the ultimate surrender. When it came it stormed through them, demolishing every defense in an explosive release, one echoed by a final barrage of fireworks.
And in that moment of shattered completion, they became husband and wife in body, as well as name.
“Damn it, Joc. Could we get this over with?” Lander growled. “Juliana will wake any minute now. Considering it’s our first day of marriage, I’d like her to do it in my arms, rather than waking to a cold bed.”
“The final contracts are right here. All we have to do is get these lawyers to agree on the remaining two points and we’re done. A few months from now, new business will flow into Verdonia, and hot damn—” he rubbed his hands together “—you’ve got a source of revenue to fill in the gaps left from the declining amethyst trade.”
Lander grimaced. “It can’t be soon enough. The Royals are becoming scarcer by the day. If something’s not put in place to augment that lost income—and soon—it’s going to have a disastrous effect on our economic stability. Nine months, a year from now, we’re going to be hurting.”
“We’d have an easier time finalizing our plans if you had an executive accountant working with us. What happened to yours?”
“She left after my father’s funeral.”
“Any chance she’d be willing to come in and lend a hand?”
“None. Lauren made that clear before she left. She took my father’s death pretty hard. I guess she’d been with him since—” Lander shook his head “—must have been before the death of my own mother. I believe she’s somewhere in Spain enjoying an early retirement.”
“I’m tempted to call Ana in and have her go through everything.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
Joc waved him silent. “I know. I know. It was just a thought.”
“A bad one. We’ll cope using our current accountants, not to mention the team of lawyers we both seem to have in excess.” He shot a fulminating glare in the direction of the conference table. “Will they never finish?”
A light knock sounded at the door. Before Lander even saw the tumble of auburn curls and the gold-spiced eyes, he knew who it would be. Sure enough, Juliana poked her head around the door. She was dressed in a simple off-white silk shell and billowing skirt that had him remembering how beautiful she’d looked in her wedding gown. Even though her face was bare of makeup, she’d taken the time to put on the earrings he’d given her as a wedding present. It took every ounce of his self-possession to keep him from sweeping her into his arms and carrying her back to their bedroom.
“Oh, there you are.” Relief brightened her face. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Not a chance.” Lander pulled her into his arms, not giving a damn who was watching, and kissed her. “Good morning, wife. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up,” he said, and meant it.
“What’s going on?” She glanced at her brother. “Hey, Joc. What are you doing here?”
“Business,” he replied easily. “Just moving some of my interests over here. You know me. Spread the wealth around.”
“Right.” She smiled at her brother. “Lander wouldn’t discuss it, but I had a feeling you two were in negotiations over some deal or another.”
“Oh, we’re long past the negotiation stage. We should be done within the hour.”
“Why did you have to wait until this morning to finalize everything?” To Lander’s amusement, she shifted into scold mode. “In case you didn’t realize, your timing stinks, Joc. That’s not like you. You usually have impeccable timing.”
“Sorry, Ana.” Joc worked to appear suitably chastised. “I guess your wedding threw it off. If it makes you feel any better, we’re at the sign, seal and delivery stage. As soon as that’s done, you two lovebirds can take off on your honeymoon.”
Juliana laughed, slanting a mischievous glance up at Lander. “I’ve worked with Joc on countless contracts. I know all about the delivery stage. One of the first things m
y brother taught me was to always wait until every last precontractual condition has been met before signing any agreement. He drummed the importance of it into me during every negotiation.” She lowered her voice in a mocking imitation of Joc’s Texan drawl. “Don’t sign based on promises, Ana. Wait until they’ve done what they said they’d do before putting your name on the dotted line. It’s all about leverage. It’s all about getting what you paid for.” Her gaze flashed from husband to brother. “So, what’s left to do? Anything I can help with?”
“No!” Joc and Lander replied in unison, far too emphatically.
Juliana froze, and the tiniest of clouds drifted across her expression. The silence thinned. Sharpened. Became painfully acute.
“Your Highness?” One of Lander’s team of lawyers rose. “Excuse me, sir, but we can’t move to the next stage until Mr. Arnaud has signed the papers indicating that you’ve fulfilled all the preconditions to the contract.”
Juliana stiffened and the clouds from earlier deepened, piling darkly across her face and dimming the brilliance of her eyes. She untangled herself from Lander’s embrace and took a quick step in her brother’s direction. “What conditions are they talking about? What did Lander have to do in order to get your business?”
“It’s not important,” Joc dismissed the question. “Details. Nothing for you to worry about.”
One look warned Lander she wasn’t buying her brother’s glib reply. He signaled the lawyers, jerking his head toward the door. “Out.”
They didn’t wait for a second invitation. Within thirty seconds they’d cleared the room. The minute the door closed behind them, Juliana spoke again, her analytical brain focused to a pinprick. “Joc, did you ever refuse to do business with Lander because he and I were having an affair?”
Lander relaxed ever so slightly, as did Joc.
