A March Bride (A Year of Weddings Novella)

by Hauck, Rachel

  The men hammered the table with their fists and the women hooted. “Go, Gib!”

  Nathaniel bowed toward Daddy. “I am duly warned.”

  “On that note, Nate, King Nathaniel II, welcome to the family, son. It’s good to have another man. I’ve been outnumbered by girls for thirty years.”

  Queen Campbell rose from her seat. “Move over, Gib, it’s my turn.”

  “Mum!”

  The dowager queen stood next to Daddy, smiling, looking regal in her fitted but simple summer suit.

  “When Nathaniel was seven or eight years old, one of our maids became quite ill. A chambermaid. So most of her chores had little to do with the family on a day-to-day basis, but when young Prince Nathaniel heard of her plight, he insisted on seeing her.”

  “You never told me this,” Susanna whispered, gazing up at him.

  “’Twas nothing, really.” Was he blushing? He had just purchased another piece of her heart. As if there were any pieces left.

  “He slept on the floor of her room. Demanded a nurse to attend her needs full-time. We couldn’t get him out of her quarters without a huge ruckus, so we let him stay, not really sure if she was contagious or not.” Campbell’s glassy gaze bore down on her son. “I knew then, son, you were born to be a king. Susanna, he’s loved you from the start and I believe you are exactly what he needs. Welcome to our family, to the House of Stratton.” She raised her champagne glass. “To King Nathaniel II and his bride, Princess Susanna. Long may they live.”

  The guests responded in robust chorus. “To King Nathaniel II and Princess Susanna! Long may they live.”

  The music changed and “Celebrate” hit the airwaves. Susanna boogied over to her college friends, all seven of whom had made it to the wedding, and sang at the top of her lungs, “Celebrate good times, come on.” She glanced back at Nathaniel, who urged her on with a smile and a wink.

  She’d once heard a profound statement, “There’s no force more powerful than a loved woman,” and tonight, right now, she knew it to be true.

  A little after eleven thirty, Susanna collapsed onto the white leather sofa curving in front of the veranda fireplace. She was exhausted, but her happiness ran so deep her bones buzzed.

  Nathaniel sat next to her, his face glistening, his WWII jacket removed and his shirt collar open, his dark hair loose and free. “I think I’ve danced half the night with your loony college mates.”

  Susanna laughed. “I know. Aren’t they great?” She wove her fingers with his, loving the reflection of the hearth’s flickering flames in the ocean of his eyes. “I miss them. I forgot how knitted our hearts were.”

  “We’ll have them all to Brighton sometime soon.”

  “Can you see them hobnobbing with Nigel, Blythe, and Morton, or Lord and Lady Dean?”

  “We’ll make popcorn and sit back and watch the show.”

  She leaned in and kissed him. “How’d I get so lucky as to find you?”

  “Don’t know, but I’m going to count my blessings and believe there’s more where they came from. In the meantime, take a look here.” Nathaniel tugged Susanna forward so she could see the dance floor where Avery and Colin were entwined.

  “You think they’re truly falling for each other?” Susanna shivered as midnight drew near with a chilly nip in the March air.

  “I’ve asked him straight out, but his answers are vague.”

  “She’s going to college next year on a volleyball scholarship.”

  “And he has two more years of university. But—” Nathaniel reached behind Susanna for the lap blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. “Perhaps we started a lovely trend. Truitts and Strattons falling in love.”

  “Of American girls marrying European princes?” She made a face, laughing. “Good grief, if it were a book, no one would believe it.”

  “Susanna Jean.” Mama’s voice boomed around the wide stone porch post as she made her way up the steps, her strappy sandals swinging from her fingertips. “Daddy and I are leaving. Got an early delivery in the morning. The out-of-town family and friends are all swinging by the Shack for lunch around one. Grandpa will be able to bring Granny out again. We’d love for y’all to come and carry on this magical wedding one more day. I even got your people coming, Nathaniel.” Mama kissed him on the head.

  “Well, then—” Nathaniel said, peeking at Susanna.

  “Thank you for everything.” Susanna reached for her mama’s hand. “I know you helped him pull this off. It was beautiful, Mama.”

  “One of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and I’m not saying it because you’re my daughter.” Mama kissed Susanna, whispered, “I love you,” then shuffled back down the steps, walking around the veranda to the outer gate. “Avery Mae!” she called over her shoulder. “Get the lead out. We’re heading home. Prince Colin, see you tomorrow for lunch.”

  Susanna yawned, really feeling her exhaustion. She wanted to crawl into bed and relive tonight in her dreams. Meditate on all the special moments.

  Seeing Nathaniel standing under the oaks in his grand-father’s white uniform, so regal and strong.

  His confession of love.

  The romantic Christ Church grounds.

  Wearing Granny’s gown.

  Their vows.

  Sigh . . . It was all so very lovely.

  Standing, Susanna reached for the Louboutins she’d shed twenty minutes ago. “Avery, I’m ready when you are.”

  Nathaniel cleared his throat. “Where are you going?”

  “Home.” She glanced down at him. “Avery’s my ride . . .” Her heart fluttered, revelation dawning, her body responding with fiery pulses. “Oh—” A deep blush crested her cheeks. “I hadn’t even thought . . .”

  “I surprised you. I understand.” He stood, reaching for her. “But this is our wedding night.”

  “I-I guess so.” She laughed low, shoving the lap blanket from her shoulders. Did someone turn up the heat in that fireplace? “I was all mentally geared for our wedding on the twenty-first. It didn’t register that, you know, tonight is—”

  “We have the whole cottage to ourselves. No Jon, no servants or staff. Not even Liam.” He swept her into his arms and held her against him. “Come with me.”

  He led her into the house, through the kitchen where the staff, the locals, and the Stratton Palace team talked and laughed, cleaning up.

  Walking hand-in-hand up the broad, winding staircase, Susanna made the last mental adjustment she needed to realize that this was her wedding night.

  Oh, she was staying. She could finally let her heart and desires go. She’d not deny this man. Not deny herself. She’d waited ten long months for this night, and she wanted to be with him every bit as much as he wanted to be with her. Plans and schedules be darned.

  At the top of the staircase, a soft light glowed from the master suite at the end of the hall.

  Nathaniel had turned his bedroom into a bridal chamber with dozens of candles, fresh white linens, and a fire flickering in the old stone fireplace. A small bowed gift and a bouquet of roses awaited her on the dressing table.

  “Nathaniel, oh my . . . will your surprises never end?” She laughed and shoved him out the door. “Now, get rid of our last guest and the cleanup crew. Give a girl a chance to prepare. Got a dress shirt I can borrow?”

  His eyes glinted with passion. “In the closet.”

  She rose up on her toes and kissed him. “My heart is beating so fast I can’t breathe.” She pressed his hand over her heart. “Give me a few minutes, and then the rest of the night, I am 100 percent yours.”

  As Susanna closed the suite door, Nathaniel raced down the hall and shook the entire cottage. “Everyone out! Out! Good night and good ’morrow.”

  Sunlight filled the room when Nathaniel woke up, reaching for his bride. Her side of the bed was warm but empty.

  “Suz?” He sat up, listening for the sounds of life.

  She popped out of the bathroom. “Morning, sleepy head.”

 
; He grinned. Seeing her wrapped in a towel, her wet hair combed back, his desire for her stirred. “You going somewhere?” He patted the bed next to him. Nothing had prepared his heart for what he’d feel for this woman once she was completely his and he was hers.

  “It’s twelve thirty. We all leave tomorrow, so I thought it would be fun to go to the Shack for lunch and hang out with the friends and fam.”

  He crawled out of bed. “I thought it would be fun to hang with my wife.”

  “You have the rest of your life to hang with me.” She kissed him, teasing and slow. Then she turned him toward the shower. “Get ready. Let’s go see everyone and continue the celebration.”

  “Married not even twenty-four hours and my wife is bossing me around already.” He reached for another kiss, letting her love awaken his sleepy heart.

  After his shower, Nathaniel headed downstairs, snatching up the SUV keys from the dining room table. “Suz, love, let’s go. I’m dialing Liam. Making sure he’s at the Shack with everyone. I’d like him there so he can have fun and we have security.”

  He’d kept this wedding private, away from the watchful eyes of the media, but he didn’t want to venture far without Liam. Word was bound to spread over St. Simons sooner or later that a royal wedding had occurred.

  Though he felt sure they were safe for one more day, he didn’t want to risk it. Two Royal Air Force planes had crossed the Atlantic in less than a week. Surely they’d alerted someone, somewhere.

  “Liam, we’re on our way to the Shack. Yes, see you there.” Nathaniel tucked his phone in his jeans pocket. “Suz, love, you ready?”

  She bounded into the room glowing and beautiful, free and sweet. He hooked her with one arm and kissed her. “Want to walk on the beach later?”

  “Whatever you desire, Your Majesty.”

  “Whatever I desire?” He nuzzled her neck. “You . . .”

  Susanna laughed softly and leaned into him for another kiss as he fumbled for the doorknob. As he swung it open wide, a gush of cool, fresh air swirled around them, along with the battering sound of a dozen camera shutters.

  Photographers flooded the front veranda, the lawn, and down the driveway.

  “King Nathaniel, is it true you were married last night?”

  “Your Majesty, if Susanna is still an American citizen, how does this impact your monarchy?”

  “Susanna, King Nathaniel, look this way, this way . . .”

  Nathaniel slammed the door shut, grimacing at Susanna, anger boiling in his bones. “I’m sorry, love, but our honeymoon is over.”

  KING NATHANIEL II IN BREACH OF MARRIAGE ACT; PARLIAMENT TO TAKE ACTION

  THE KING’S POLITICAL OPPONENTS HEAT UP: “HIS MARRIAGE TO THE AMERICAN DEFIES OUR LAWS”

  BRIGHTON WEDDING NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR OUR KING? PEOPLE OUTRAGED AT AMERICAN WEDDING

  In the Parliament Debate Box, a windowless anterior room outside the Senate and Commons joint chambers, King Nathaniel faced off with Prime Minister Brock Bishop, Susanna standing beside him. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Most serious.” Brock crossed his arms with a smug glance at his vice minister. “You knew what you were doing, Your Majesty. Why are you surprised Parliament is outraged? Not to mention, you robbed your people of seeing their first reigning king marry in three hundred years.”

  “So you’re demanding my throne?” After the paparazzi surprise on St. Simons Island—Nathaniel had yet to discover who leaked the wedding—the Brightonian media exploded with stories, opinions, documentaries, online polls about the American ceremony.

  Days and days of unrelenting coverage.

  “Mr. Bishop.” Susanna spoke with reverence and honor. “I was very reluctant to give up my American citizenship, but I’ve come to realize it’s not what defines me. Nor does a Brighton citizenship. Sure, it’s hard to give up something that’s been a part of me before I was born, but I am taking the Brighton Oath of Allegiance tomorrow morning and renouncing my American ties. So what’s the harm here?”

  “Harm? That our king went behind our back, defied the law, and married a foreigner without her having taken the oath of citizenship. Never mind the renunciation of your civil ties to America.” Brock motioned for his aide to hand him a document. “Many already see this as a compromise with another nation. The influence has started. The Liberal-Labor Party in the House of Senators is demanding you step down from the throne.”

  “Pardon? Demanding?” Nathaniel snatched the document, his blood boiling as he read the word TREASON scrawled across the top of the page. “You are out of your mind, Brock.” He tossed the paper to the floor. “You cannot charge me with treason for defying a writ. Especially when the Marriage Act states I’m allowed to marry whomever I wish.”

  “As long as His Majesty’s government approves.”

  “Which it did. Last May.”

  “Well, your new government placed conditions which you blatantly ignored. Naturally, you’ll remain a member of the royal family after you abdicate, but we are asking you to vacate your throne immediately.”

  “Brock, you blasted idiot! How does this accomplish your goals to be rid of a monarchy? Stephen will just take my place.” Nathaniel had had enough of the politicking, the media, the naysayers, and his government using Susanna to get to him. “My marriage to Susanna on Friday was our business. Between us. When we wed here, in Brighton, we will be within the law.”

  “I fear it’s too little, too late.” Brock retrieved the petition for abdication. “We are moving forward with this action. As for your brother, we have plans there as well.”

  “So you’re accomplishing your mission. To rid Brighton of a royal throne.”

  “I’ve never denied my sentiments toward the monarchy.” He shifted his shoulders, adjusting the set of his jacket on his shoulders. “It’s archaic. From another century. It’s time has come to an end.”

  Nathaniel met the prime minister’s gaze with his own rock-hard resolve. “Then shall we adjourn to Parliament?”

  The morning session was just beginning. By next week, final government business was to be concluded before Parliament’s spring recess. Just in time for the wedding.

  Brock hesitated with a slight hint of surprise. As if he weren’t expecting Nathaniel to take action. “Certainly, Your Majesty.”

  “You bring the petition and I’ll address the assembly.” Nathaniel reached around for Susanna. “Care to join us?”

  Brock cast a shadow over them through the dark aura of his heart, then left the chamber.

  Susanna shuddered. “Oh Nathaniel, how did he ever get to be prime minister?”

  “He’s head of the Labor Party. They formed a coalition with the Liberal Party for the elections. They secured the most seats in the House of Senators and thus Brock became prime minister.”

  “Does he hate you?”

  “In his way, yes. But you know, Susanna, I’ve come to learn as king that whenever I meet someone I don’t like or understand, I put a big X on them and remind myself, ‘There’s treasure buried here.’ ”

  “Nathaniel, that’s brilliant.”

  “So while Brock puzzles me and feels like my enemy, I remind myself that somewhere in all the supposed venom, there’s treasure.”

  Lord, help me find the treasure . . .

  Nathaniel led the way out of the room, reaching back for Susanna’s hand, and took the stairs toward the grand central chamber, bypassing his robing room because he wanted to keep the Houses off-kilter for this debate.

  At the mezzanine level, he entered through the King’s Door and sat on his red velvet and teak throne overseeing the bright, round room with its atrium ceiling and gleaming paneled walls.

  He motioned for Susanna to sit in the seat on his left. The Parliament thrones. Handcrafted from Brighton oak three hundred years ago and covered with thick red velvet.

  “Here?” She pointed to the Queen’s Seat.

  He chuckled at Susanna’s very overwhelmed expression. “Yes, and don’t worry,
love. All is well.”

  “Too late,” she whispered. “I am worried. What are you going to say?”

  “The truth. Remind them of a few things.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I come with a few punches of my own.”

  Brock had slipped on his speaker robe and white wig and was now taking the podium. “We’ve before this Parliament a decree of treason against King Nathaniel II of Brighton.”

  He recounted the issue and Nathaniel held himself in check, trying not to shake his head in disgust or scoff at the ridiculousness of it all. He would act like a king. Impartial. Even in cases against him.

  When Brock finished his diatribe, Nathaniel stood, bareheaded without his crown or his robes. He needed no symbol on his head other than God’s delight and the love of his wife.

  “Members of this esteemed parliament, I concede I married Susanna while she was an American. Out of love and deference to her. To prove my love was unconditional. She, in return, has offered all we and our law demand. She is ready to surrender her American citizenship and become a Brightonian. With no conditions. But knowing this, what do you do, slap me with a charge of treason? That is a serious charge and, according to our law, one not to be uttered lightly, as I believe it has been done here today.” He paused to survey the room and many heads bobbing in agreement. “Let me remind you that if I am deposed for no other reason than that I married an American on American soil, our government will be dissolved. A new one will have to be formed. Your seats, earned by hard work and campaigning, will be gone. You’ll have to begin again. In fact, our entire political existence will have to begin again. Because our prime minister has informed me he plans to rid Brighton of its monarchy.”