Suspending Reality

by Chrissy Peebles

  She gasped, anger rising inside her once again. “Don’t feel guilty for leaving me here to marry a complete stranger who wants nothing more than to see my stomach swollen with his seed.”

  He turned around, his eyes wide. “You’re right. I can’t do this. What in the world am I thinking? Leaving you here is just…stupidly impossible. Come with me, Sarah. We’re gonna find your sister and find our own way out of this Renaissance nightmare.”

  Knowing there was no other way, Sarah turned and ran down the corridor.

  “What’re you doing?!” Frank yelled, chasing after her.

  She grabbed the door and slammed it shut, then walked to the back of the cell. Staying in that freaky dimension wasn’t an option. She had to take a chance on marrying the nutcase if it meant she could get her hands on that key. “Lock me in! Hurry!”

  “What?”

  She met his gaze through the rusty bars. “You heard me. Lock it and leave. Tell the other knights to inform the king that I’ve changed my mind and I’d love to marry him.”

  “Sarah, are you sure? You really need to think about this. I mean, you’re risking everything, and what if we—”

  “I have thought about it, Frank, and this is the best way.” She smiled. “Now go…and don’t worry.”

  “I’ll get you out of this, I swear. Just get that ring.”

  “Not a problem.” As he turned to leave, she added, “I’ll be sure to say hello to hubby for you.”

  Chapter 5

  Sarah smoothed out her white and gold Juliet-style dress. The corseted bodice clung to her chest like a second skin, raising and flattening all the right places, but she hadn’t seen that style in any magazine in the last twenty years. She felt for the tags at the back, but the scratchy piece of material wasn’t there. It certainly wasn’t a designer label, but with all the sequins, lace, and fine details, it would have made a killing on any runway.

  The maidservants had wasted no time preparing her for her dreaded nuptials. They scrubbed her skin with lye soap in a tub of scalding water. Countless hands had forced her into a wedding dress so tight she didn’t know whether she was dead as a ghost or just floating from the lack of oxygen, and the shiny tiara that weighed a ton didn’t ease her throbbing headache either. A long veil trailed the ground, promising to send her into a tumbling fall if she didn’t move gracefully.

  Curls trimmed her forehead and fell in ringlets down the sides of her face. Thicker curls hung loosely at the back of her head and neck. She played with one gingerly, marveling at how easy it wound around her finger. So this is what hair felt like before straightening irons and all that hairspray. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone with ringlet curls, but she was beginning to think the trend should be brought back to life.

  A guard walked Sarah through the dimly lit corridor, then stopped, his eyes focused somewhere above her chest.

  Frowning, she followed his line of vision and let out a groan. The pervert’s stare at her cleavage couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d have tattooed the words on his forehead. She rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.” She was certain that King Victor had definitely picked out the winner of a dress.

  The guard cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me, Highness?”

  “Paint a portrait?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  “Never mind,” Sarah hissed. Of course they wouldn’t know what a camera was in a place where they still knew what a chastity belt was and thought asking for a woman’s hand in marriage meant knocking her over the head and dragging her to one’s cage.

  The guard opened the door, letting her into a large room. More guardsmen stood in every corner. She brushed against the wooden frame to avoid touching him. Her eyes fell on the iron chandeliers holding a multitude of taupe-colored candles. Beautiful red and purple tapestries and elaborate arrangements of gleaming swords, maces, arm poles, and shields covered the stone-sculptured walls. She took a deep breath as realization hit: She was there, in that real medieval castle, to marry a real king.

  “Wait here.” The guard motioned her to stand by the floor-to-ceiling fireplace.

  Minutes later, Victor walked in. He took her hand and kissed it gently. Her stomach fluttered as she peered from his gleaming white teeth and black, shaggy hair into his blue eyes. As much as she hated to admit it, he could’ve stepped out of a fairytale; he was dressed like Prince Charming himself, complete with crown, cape, short breeches tucked into high boots, and tights. The black and white doublet, with a golden lion emblazoned on the velvet, outlined every muscle in his chest. He was a handsome sight, even if he had the personality of a wolverine; she had never gone for the controlling type who enjoyed threatening to murder her for his own political gains. Against her better judgment, her knees went weak. Quit drooling! she scolded herself. She was in a very dangerous situation with a man who could kill her at any moment if he found out who she really was—or wasn’t. Sooner or later, he’d discover that she wasn’t Gloria, and there wasn’t a royal bone in her body.

  Slowly, his gaze traveled over her. “Princess Gloria, you look dashing…much more like a princess now, soon to be a queen, my dear.”

  Sarah knew that she had to play along if she wanted to get out of there. She returned his smile and curtsied, hoping it looked close enough to the real deal. “Thank you, milord.”

  A grin grew across his lips. “You respond to your name now?”

  An incredibly sexy dimple in his left cheek drew her attention. She moistened her lips; her breath caught in her throat. “I-I must’ve hit my head earlier and was confused, forgetting my identity. It’s all coming back to me, but certain parts still remain unclear,” she fibbed, hoping that would cover her if someone asked her a question she couldn’t properly answer. She had to play the part of Princess Gloria perfectly or Plan B was gonna be a no-go.

  He pointed around the room. “Welcome to my home…your home now.

  “Since you’re mentioning it, the first thing I would like to do is hire an interior designer.”

  “I’ve no idea what that is.” He inched closer and touched the side of her face with a caress so tender it sent shivers down her spine. “However, if it’s within my might to buy it for you, then so be it.”

  Sarah took a step back, her fingers barely connecting with the material of his shirt as she placed a hand between them. Her throat felt constricted; her heart hammered in her chest. If he wouldn’t have followed her command, she wouldn’t have had the willpower to push him away.

  “You make a beautiful bride,” he said. “I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”

  “Well, Victor, sitting in a cold dungeon will do that to a girl—that and threats of execution will nudge a gal in the right direction.”

  “You’re taking all of this rather calmly. Your reputation preceded you, and I expected more of a fight.”

  “My father doesn’t care if I live or die, so I hope he chokes on my new title.” She smiled inwardly. Getting into character wasn’t as hard as she thought.

  “That’s the spirit! You would never have been queen in your own kingdom. I have a feeling your mother is going to hold on to that title for a long time.”

  “Exactly, and that’s why I’ve decided to take this wonderful opportunity, though I must admit I would have preferred a bit more romance and a proper courting.” She blinked her lashes, amused. “May I give you some dating…er, courting advice, my King?”

  “You may.” A note of amusement rang in his tone.

  “It works best to woo a girl and sweep her off her feet rather than throw her in a dungeon. When you propose, try kneeling and stating your undying love. That works better than threatening your future bride with impending death or impregnating her with ten kids.”

  Victor laughed, the delicious dimples forming on his cheeks again. “You’re here to marry me, are you not?”

  She bit her lip. “Guess you got me there,” she said, knowing s
he didn’t have much of a choice.

  He inched closer, a shadow passing over his features as he peered into her eyes. “You know the consequences of the ring, yet you are still willing to move forward with the marriage?”

  Yeah, she knew the consequences. She’d wear a ball and chain for a few hours before she cut it off with a hacksaw and ran as far away from the guy as she could—no matter how gorgeous he was. “I’m aware.”

  “I knew you were, but I had to make sure. I wouldn’t want you to blame me for…” He winced slightly. “Keeping it from you.”

  Whoa! Is there more to this thing than he’s letting on, more to it than what that Jules told Frank? She thought maybe she could play up the amnesia angle, leftover from the bump on the head. She narrowed her eyes to tiny slits, considering her words. “Uh, just to be on the safe side, would you be so kind and refresh my memory? Things are a little fuzzy from the fall.”

  He nodded. “Of course, my love. It’s said that—”

  A knock on the door interrupted him.

  Victor held up a hand. “Ah, the priest. I want this done quickly.”

  Sarah grabbed hold of his arm. “Wait! What about your bad conscience? You wouldn’t want me to blame you later, would you?”

  He laughed, motioning in a short man with white, thinning hair. He was dressed in a wide-sleeved, kimono-style, monk’s robe with a knotted rope belt tied at the waist.

  Victor shut the door, then met Sarah’s gaze. “All royalty knows about the ring’s secrets. And I’m certain you wouldn’t forget something so important. Let’s get started.”

  “You don’t waste time,” she said. “Nothing says love better than a shotgun wedding.”

  The priest bowed. “It’s nice to meet you, Princess.”

  She nodded. Frank had better be right about this ring being the key we need to get outta here. I hope his sources really are reliable, because if I go through with this all for nothing, I’m gonna kick his butt into the next century!

  “Is anyone else attending the ceremony?” the priest asked.

  “No, Father,” Victor said.

  Sarah chuckled and motioned around her. “I think the only guests we have are the guards.”

  “I need you to stand to my left, and King Victor, please stand to the right,” the priest continued.

  Sarah moved into position, butterflies dancing in her stomach. Can I really go through with this? Staring at all the polished swords and shields hanging on the wall, she gulped. She’d always planned to get married in a church filled with smiling friends and family, not alone on some King Arthur movie set. And what’s Victor hiding from me about the ring? Obviously, there was something she needed to know, because it was something all the other royals were aware of. The problem was, she wasn’t royalty.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Victor whispered, cupping her face. “You take my breath away.”

  Her heart leapt. The guy throws me in a hole in the ground and then feeds me a bunch of compliments? She gazed into his eyes, searching for sincerity. For a minute, she thought he actually meant it. “I’m flattered.” Then it dawned on her: There’s got to be something in this for him, even if it is just plain old revenge.

  “Your father and I don’t get along, but I bear you no ill feelings. I’m sorry I lost my temper in the dungeon. I am fuming angry with your wolf of a father, and I should not have taken that out on his blood.” Victor slipped his hands around her waist, his eyes glistening with something she couldn’t place. “I know you were forced into this, and I grant you my deepest apologies. I assure you, my love, that I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy.”

  Gazing up at his face, she was surprised to find that he actually had a soft side. So his threats were all a bluff? And he really wants to spend the rest of his life making me happy? Confusion flooded through her. What girl doesn’t dream of getting swept off her feet by a handsome king declaring his undying devotion? Even if we did start off on the wrong foot when he imprisoned me.

  The priest cleared his throat and opened his leather-bound book.

  The king grinned. “Ah, yes. Let’s get started, shall we?”

  The priest nodded. “King Victor Fesque II, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her, honor her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, forsaking all others? Wilt thou cling only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

  Victor met Sarah’s eyes and smiled. “I will.”

  “Princess Gloria Jarod, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband? Wilt thou love him, honor him, keep him and guard him, in health and in sickness, as a wife should a husband, forsaking all others? Wilt though cleave only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

  The words sounded surreal, almost as though marrying a man she never met before was nothing more than a dream. Sarah wished she’d get up in the morning and erase all memory of the nonsense with a steaming cup of coffee. Victor looked into her eyes, and she held his gaze. Bring home the Oscar, Sarah, she told herself. She was enjoying her undercover work much more than she should have been. Hmm. Getting that ring on my finger might be easier than I hoped. She gulped and spat out the words. “I will.”

  The priest continued, “Do you take Princess Gloria Jarod to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do you part, if the Holy Church doth ordain it? And thereto plight her thy troth?”

  Victor smiled, flashing gorgeous white teeth. “I do.”

  The priest turned and repeated the vows to Sarah.

  She’d never dreamt she’d be saying the words to a stranger, but she said, “I do.” Her stomach twisted into knots, and she took a deep breath. It had all seemed like make-believe to that point, but now it was real. There she was, in that ridiculously fancy wedding gown, facing a man in all his royal finery, wearing a gold crown crusted with jewels.

  The priest said a blessing, then joined Sarah’s and Victor’s hands, “The third finger on the left hand has a special vein called vena amoris, which means ‘the vein of love’. This vein runs from the ring finger directly to the heart. The special ring that is placed upon this finger is the symbol of the sun, earth, and universe, and it represents perfection and peace. It has no beginning and no end, just like time.” He turned to the king. “You may pledge your allegiance to your love and undying devotion.”

  Sarah smiled as Victor pulled a ring from his pocket, cradling it on his palm. Her plan was coming together perfectly and nothing made her happier.

  “The rubies represent love, and the diamonds signify eternity,” said the priest, nodding to the sparkling gems set in a gold band.

  Sarah’s eyes widened. Not only was the ring her ticket back home, but it was also drop-dead gorgeous, a huge, hulking piece of bling. She couldn’t stop staring at it. With its four-carat oval ruby silhouetted by shimmering diamonds, it didn’t look like a traditional wedding ring.

  She cleared her throat and raised her gaze for a second. “It’s real?”

  Victor shook his head, wide-eyed. “Of course, my dear. I assure you it is genuine, for it has been in my family for centuries. Why do you ask?”

  “Because…” She took a deep breath to hide her emotions. “Well, I am a real princess, after all, and I don’t do knock-offs.” Undying love or not, she made sure to hold on tight to the ring. The least she’d get from that forced marriage would be a small house with a nice view in a neighborhood where she didn’t need to barricade her windows at night and sleep with pepper spray under her pillow.

  As her new husband slid the ring on her finger, a jolt of electricity raced up Sarah’s hand and spread throughout her body. She blinked, and a flurry of spots flooded her vision. It was weird and quite inexplicable. The sensation stopped just as quickly as it appeared, and for a moment she stood there, flabbergasted. Wait…did I just imagine that? Granted, her nerves were on edge, what with almost be
ing blinded by the gemstones. Or maybe I’m just dehydrated.

  The priest handed her a matching ring. Looking closer, she noticed his ruby was square, making it look more masculine.

  “Put the ring on Victor’s finger,” the priest whispered.

  She’d never been through a wedding ceremony before, and they hadn’t granted her the courtesy of a rehearsal, so she had no way of knowing what to do. With trembling hands, she slid the ring on his finger and gazed up at his beaming face.

  “We’ve done it,” Victor whispered.

  Wait…that’s it? We’re…married? The cave of her mouth felt dry, almost painful, as she swallowed past the lump in her throat. Is he going to kiss me? She stared at his best feature, those full, firm, luscious lips. She couldn’t come to terms with what was going on in that head of hers. There she was, marrying a powerful king who might keep her from ever going home, but all she could do was stare at his mouth.

  The priest broke through her thoughts. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. My King, you may kiss your queen.”

  “You’re mine now—forever. Our bond is unbreakable, the spark between us never to be quenched.” In slow motion, she saw his face lower onto hers, their lips barely touching. His hand wandered to the low of her back, drawing her closer, her chest pressing against his as his lips came down harder but with nowhere near as much force as she would’ve expected from such a man.

  Sweet and gentle? That’ll work. Don’t all fairytales end with the perfect kiss? A flame spread over her, spanning from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. He wasn’t kidding about that spark! But she knew it was time to shut that down and go to the reception.

  Victor dismissed the priest, and Sarah let out a breath of relief. The ring felt heavy on her finger, reminding her that only the first step was done. The hard part was yet to come. She needed to find Frank and get the heck out of there. She smiled sweetly as she peered at her new husband. “Can we eat cake and smash it in each other’s faces now? It’s my favorite wedding tradition.”