by Day Leclaire
“I should have sent Joc packing the minute he proposed that outrageous contract,” he told her, once they were inside.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Verdonia,” he said simply. “And then later, there was no reason to terminate our agreement. Why would I? It gave me everything I wanted.” He reached for her. Now that she’d returned, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. “It gave me you.”
“Oh, Lander.” She clung to him. “You should have told me you were in trouble sooner,” she informed him fiercely. “I would have been on the next plane back to you. We could have had this resolved a week ago.”
It was all he needed to hear. She lifted her face to his kiss at the same instant as he lowered his. Their mouths collided, setting the mating dance into motion. Clothes were shed with overwhelming haste. Limbs entwined. And then they were on the bed, with nothing between them but a desperate urgency.
They surged together, the crest building, the subtle upheaval like waves fomenting before a distant storm. Juliana undulated beneath him, arching into the ebb and flow of their mating, the depth and intensity increasing before the steady advance of the tempest. And then it was on top of them, breaking loose from all restraint. Crashing and clawing at emotions drawn bow-string taut. Howling for release. They were swept high into the storm’s embrace, and in that instant, she came undone, shattering in his arms.
Lander watched her, reveling in the knowledge that he’d brought her to crisis. Humbled by the fact that his hands, his mouth, his body, his touch—and his alone—could cause such an intense climax. The storm lashed out with a final violent kick. Roaring through him. Furious. Wrenching. And he followed her into the very heart of it, clinging to the one person in the universe who completed him. Who sheltered and fulfilled him.
His bride. His princess. His wife.
Much later, Lander rolled onto his back and scooped Juliana tight against him. By then dusk had settled in, leaving the room in semidarkness. He slid his fingers into her hair, filling his hands with her curls. He experienced a loosening deep inside, the knowledge that his world would only be right when it was like this—with his wife in his arms and his hands on her.
“Why did you return?” he felt compelled to ask.
Her calm gaze remained fixed on his, filled with an absolute certainty. “I returned because I realized you loved me as much as I loved you.”
His brows drew together. “Of course I love you.”
“You never said the words,” she replied simply.
Hell. How could he have overlooked something so obvious? “Then how did you know?”
“The wedding rings. I’d forgotten what you’d told me on our wedding day, about their having a special meaning. But then Rachel reminded me.” Her voice softened, grew richer. “That’s when I put it all together.”
“What did you put together?”
“That you loved me.” She held up her hand, her rings giving off a subdued flash of fire. “The Blushes on the outside represent how our relationship began, as part of a contract. But then the stones change and grow, just as our feelings for each other changed and grew. At the very heart, it’s a metamorphous from contract to soul mate.”
“I couldn’t have put it better myself.” He smoothed her hair away from her face. “I love you, Juliana. I have for a long time. But I knew you wouldn’t believe words alone. They’re too easy.”
“Even so, you put the words in the ring. I found those, too. In the gold filigree. It says ‘true love’ in Verdonian. There’s only one thing I don’t understand.”
“And what’s that?”
She ran her fingertip over the stones set between the Blushes and Royals. “The meaning of these other amethysts. The ones between the pink and purple. They’re such a unique color. Not quite red, not quite blue, nor purple. Yet, all of them mixed together. I’ve never seen an amethyst quite like it.”
“My father came across the stones years ago. Apparently just these few were coughed out of the mines. Nothing like them has been found since.”
“They’re so distinctive.”
“So is their name.”
“Really?” She looked up at him, innocent curiosity reflected in her face. “What are they called?”
He stroked her ring, touching each stone in turn. “The Celestia Blush. The sealing of a contract. The Verdonia Royal. To represent soul mates.” His finger lingered on the final group of stones. “And these were named by royal proclamation on our wedding day. This color is now known as the Juliana Rose, and will forever after symbolize true love.”
She wept then, helpless tears of disbelief and joy. He held her patiently until they’d eased. Wiping the dampness from her cheeks, she wound her arms around his neck. Her eyes shone brighter than the sun as she kissed him three times, each deeper and more passionate than the last. The first kiss sealed their marriage contract. The second was reserved for soul mates. And finally, she gave him the kiss of true love.
“You should know that you’ve done something for me no one else has ever been able to do,” she whispered against his mouth.
“What’s that, Princess?”
She laughed away the last of her tears. “You’ve made all my dreams come true.”
He smiled contentedly. “Now that sounds like the perfect job for a prince.”
The Royal Wedding Night
By Day Leclaire
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
One
Principality of Avernos, Verdonia—
How it all began…
“No. No way, no how. You’re not doing this, Miri. I don’t care what you say or do. I won’t have you involved in any of this.”
She threw off her cover-up to reveal the wedding gown she wore beneath. She didn’t care how much he loomed over her, she wasn’t about to back down. Her other royal stepbrother, Lander, had long been dubbed the “Lion of Mt. Roche.” But Merrick reminded her more of a golden leopard than the king of beasts. Maybe that had something to do with his being whipcord lean and sleek, and deadly silent until he moved in for an attack. Not to mention possessing a speed and agility she’d never seen bested.
“It’s too late, Merrick. I’m already involved.”
His mouth compressed at the sight of her gown, and he pinned her with a merciless gaze. “Only because you listened in on a private conversation.” He nodded knowingly. “Yes, you damn well should blush. Hell, Miri. I’m the head of Verdonia’s Royal Security Force. If I’d caught anyone else doing what you did, I’d have thrown them in the deepest, darkest pit I could find. Worse, if anyone in a position of authority had found out you’d spied, I’d have been forced to act. My own sister!”
“You need my help,” she insisted stubbornly.
He gripped her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Listen to me, honey, this is serious. Abducting a woman…it could mean jail for everyone involved.”
“Then it means jail.” She shot Merrick a stony glare, utilizing every ounce of logic she could summon—a difficult proposition when raw emotion held her in its grip. “Think about it. You’re planning to abduct Princess Alyssa minutes before her wedding. Don’t you think the groom’s going to notice when his bride goes missing? You need someone to take her place at the altar. To fool people just long enough so you have time to get away.”
He thrust a hand through hair streaked every color from blond to umber. “The operative words here are ‘get away.’ I get away. My men get away. Even Alyssa gets away, if not by choice. You’re the one left at von Folke’s mercy. What do you think will happen when he unveils you—literally—and discovers you’re not Princess Alyssa Sutherland, political ally. Instead, he’s married Princess Miri
Montgomery, sister of his political foe. Or have you forgotten that von Folke and Lander are rivals for the throne of Verdonia?”
She dismissed the question with a sweep of her hand. “Of course I haven’t forgotten. But do you really think Prince Brandt will have me arrested? Throw me into prison? How will that look five short months before the election to choose our next king?”
“Von Folke isn’t going to be happy,” Merrick replied, before adding beneath his breath, “and that has to be the understatement of the year. There’s no question in my mind that he’ll take out his unhappiness on someone. I don’t want that someone to be you.”
“Brandt wouldn’t hurt me. At least…not the way you mean.”
“You can’t be certain of that.” Merrick started hammering away again. “He might find another way to get even for the theft of his bride. I won’t allow him to use you for that purpose. Not when I’m the one responsible.”
“Nor will I.” She stood in a copy of another woman’s wedding gown, trembling from a combination of fury and heartbreak. “I have it all planned out. When it’s time for the unveiling at the end of the ceremony, I’m going to refuse to allow it. I’ll fake an illness, if I have to. I’ll ask them to take me to my room—Alyssa’s room—until I can recover. And the instant I’m alone, I’ll change into whatever of hers fits and leave.”
“Just like that? You don’t think anyone will stop you?” Merrick folded his arms across his chest. “You can’t be that naive.”
Miri lifted an eyebrow. “Why would anyone stop me? After all, I’m just a guest at the wedding, not the bride. It’ll be Miri Montgomery who strolls out the front door, not Princess Alyssa Sutherland von Folke. Now, stop arguing, Merrick. If you don’t like my idea, then work on perfecting the plan. What can we change so it will work?”
“There’s no point in perfecting or changing anything. I won’t allow you to go through with this.”
“You’ll do it.” She played her final card. “You’ll do it, or I’ll tell big brother what you’re planning.”
She may have pushed him too far. Anger sent twin flags of color flaring across his cheekbones. “You’d involve Lander?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“If you tell him, if you involve him in this, he’ll lose any chance at the throne. He’ll be an accessory.”
She grasped Merrick’s hands in hers. “Then let me help you. If your plan succeeds, Lander will sit on the throne. Isn’t that what you want?”
“That’s not why I’m doing this,” he instantly denied. “All I want is a fair election. That won’t happen if von Folke marries Princess Alyssa. If he gains her as a political ally, the throne is as good as his.”
“Fine. We’re both doing it for the good of Verdonia. I just want your plan to succeed and I’m the best person to make sure that happens. Now, are we through here?” She gestured toward the door. “Do we go switch brides now, or do you want to waste more time arguing?”
Sheer stubbornness turned his eyes a molten gold and for a full thirty seconds she was certain she’d lost. Then he gave an abrupt nod and Miri allowed her breath to escape in a silent sigh of relief. She turned toward the door, but he stopped her before she could open it.
“Not so fast.” Drawing her deeper into the room of the cottage he’d rented, he examined her appearance with a critical eye. “What the hell did you do to your hair?”
She touched the loose curls self-consciously. “Your man said Alyssa was a blonde. I figured my disguise would hold up a little better if I bleached it.”
“Can you turn it back…after?”
She actually managed to smile at the hint of alarm in his voice. “Yes, I can turn it back. You like it dark better than blond?”
“On you, yes.”
How ironic. From the day her mother had married Merrick’s father, King Stefan, she’d wanted to look like the rest of the Montgomerys, all of whom were tall and athletic and striking, their streaked hair and hazel eyes kissed with golden sunshine. Her coal-black hair and pale green eyes had always made her feel like an outsider, as did the fact that she was a princess by adoption and proclamation, rather than birth. Only with Brandt had she ever felt—
To her relief, Merrick broke in before she could complete the thought. “It just might work,” he conceded reluctantly. “From the photos I’ve seen, you’re close in height and body shape.”
“That was my biggest concern.”
“It’s not mine,” he retorted, a sharp edge to his words. “When it’s time for you to leave as Miri Montgomery, people might wonder why you’ve bleached your hair blond, especially when they see you exiting Alyssa’s room.”
“You think it’ll rouse suspicion?” She shook her head. “They’ll think I’ve made a poor fashion choice, that’s all. It won’t occur to them it’s because I took the bride’s place at the altar. As for being in Alyssa’s room…I was helping the bride, poor dear. Something she ate didn’t agree with her, I suspect. She’s asked that no one disturb her for a bit. Just give her an hour or two to rest and she’ll be fine. Oh, and perhaps you’d deliver a message to Prince Brandt? Tell him that his bride is looking forward to joining him a little later this evening, after she’s had some private time to recover.”
Merrick looked far from happy. “It might work.”
“It will work.”
“Don’t get cocky, Miri. You’re not a perfect match. And it’s far from a perfect plan.”
“So, I’ll improvise. With luck no one will notice the discrepancies, especially not beneath a veil. You’ll need to give me Alyssa’s. If I wear a different veil…that is something women will notice.”
“I’ll make sure you have it.” His voice turned gruff. “You look—You look incredible, sweetheart. I just wish this were real, that you were standing here dressed for your own wedding, instead of for this farce.”
His words struck like a blow, though he couldn’t possibly have known. She forced out a careless smile and prayed her voice would hold steady. “Thank you. But I’d need a fiancé for that, wouldn’t I?” Too bad the man she’d had in mind was no longer interested, despite what he’d once claimed.
An odd expression drifted across Merrick’s face, one she could have only described as “brotherly.” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he shrugged. “You’re only twenty-five. There’s plenty of time to fall in love.” He made a production of checking his watch, then gestured toward the door. “Time to go. We’re cutting this close as it is.”
Miri preceded her brother from the cottage he’d rented as a command center and allowed him to help her into the passenger seat of a silver-gray SUV. Behind them his men piled into a matching black one, which tailed them at a circumspect speed through the hilly roads of Verdonia’s northernmost principality of Avernos. Nerves prevented her from attempting idle chatter, not that she’d have had any opportunity. Merrick spent the entire trip filling her in on every detail he’d uncovered about Princess Alyssa, no matter how minor. Half an hour passed before the two cars turned down a narrow country road. Less than a mile farther along they veered onto a dirt shoulder.
Leaving the car to idle, Merrick swiveled in his seat to look at her. “Listen to me, Miri. This shouldn’t take long. No more than twenty minutes.” He tapped the car clock. “If we’re not back in that time precisely, you are to get behind the wheel and drive away. Head straight south from Avernos all the way through Celestia until you reach Verdon, and don’t stop until you get there. Don’t come looking for me. Don’t call anyone. Just get the hell out. Are we clear?”
“Clear.”
He shook his head. “I’m serious, Miri. I want your word of honor. If I don’t return in twenty minutes, swear to me you’ll leave without intervening in any way.”
They were the two most difficult words she’d ever spoken. “I swear.”
He nodded in satisfaction. Climbing out of the SUV, he signaled to his men. The four of them, all dressed in melt-into-the-shadows black, slid ominous hoods ov
er their heads as they trotted across the expanse of grass beside the road and headed toward a small ridge half hidden by a dense expanse of deciduous forest. Miri inched forward in her seat and kept her gaze glued on the car clock. The seconds crept by, one by one, until after an hour—or what seemed like an hour—a mere fifteen minutes had piled up onto the clock.
At nineteen minutes, thirty seconds, Merrick emerged from the woods. He held a woman in his arms, a woman wearing a silver gown that proved a close match to Miri’s. A flowing lace and tulle veil sat askew on her long blond curls. Princess Alyssa Sutherland. She was absolutely stunning, Miri noted with a sinking heart. And a bit shorter than she, herself, was. But that shouldn’t present a problem. She’d brought an extra pair of shoes to cover just that eventuality. Switching the ones she wore for the pair with the lowest heels, she opened the car door and headed toward Merrick.
“It’s time,” he said, as she approached. “You don’t have to go through with this. You can still change your mind.”
“I can’t and I won’t. There are…reasons.”
She didn’t dare explain further. If Merrick knew the truth, he’d never have agreed to involve her. At the sound of her voice, Princess Alyssa stiffened. She started to turn her head to look, but his grip tightened, preventing her.
“Quickly, Merrick,” Miri warned. “We have only moments until her disappearance is discovered.”
Ripping the voluminous veil from Alyssa’s head, he tossed it to Miri. “Will this work?”
“It’s perfect. From what I can tell our dresses are nearly identical. The veil will definitely conceal any discrepancies.” She shot a wary glance toward Princess Alyssa and switched from English to Verdonian. From what Merrick had said, the woman had been raised in the United States and, until she’d flown out to marry Brandt, hadn’t been in Verdonia since she was a toddler. Chances were excellent she didn’t speak the language.
