Ingrid's Engagement: How A Beauty Tamed A Beast (Fairetellings Book 3)

by Kristen Reed

  “My goodness, child. Are you all right?” the concerned count asked, rising to meet his flustered daughter.

  “Yes, I’m perfect, but I can’t leave without speaking with the king. Can you please wait here for me?”

  “Of course, but perhaps I should go with you.”

  “No, your presence isn’t necessary. If anything, I might lose my nerve if you accompany me.”

  Seeing the jubilant light in Ingrid’s wild, hazel eyes and the flush in her cheeks, Edmund realized what his daughter meant to do. Though he consented to her marriage to Viggo what felt like eons before, the aging count suddenly experienced the sweet pang of loss that stings every father’s heart as his first daughter grows into womanhood and leaves his household.

  “Liesel and I will be right here waiting for you,” he smiled, kissing her forehead.

  With her father’s approval, Ingrid hurried back to the palace to find the contrite king. Of course, her first destination was the library, where Viggo had spent most of his time since their arrival. Bursting into the room moments later, the maiden’s eyes immediately fell upon a sharply dressed nobleman.

  The formidable man stood at the window with a canvas before him and a paintbrush in his hand, and her cheeks reddened as she berated herself for barging in and interrupting his private moment. Ingrid jumped with a gasp when the door swung shut with a loud click, but she recovered in time to greet the man with a curtsy as he turned around to see the commotion’s source.

  “My apologies, my lord. Do you know where His Majesty is?”

  Though the blue-eyed, blue-blooded man was strikingly handsome with his high cheekbones, cleft chin, and full lips, she still felt uncomfortable under his silent scrutiny and averted his questioning gaze by fixing her eyes on the floor. The man turned to look outside once more, holding his brush between his teeth as he mixed a new shade for his painting using a palette knife.

  “Do you know where the king is?” she inquired. “I must speak with him concerning an urgent matter.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Well, I’m supposed to return home with my father, but I can’t leave without speaking with him.”

  “Is something wrong?” the nobleman repeated.

  “No. Not exactly.”

  “Tell me what you need, and I’ll relay the message.”

  “I-I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “This is a private matter, my lord … something I can’t say to anyone but him.”

  Footsteps filled Ingrid’s ears as the man abandoned his brushes and canvas to join her in the center of the room.

  “What do you want, Ingrid?”

  Identifying the man’s voice at last, the young maiden furrowed her brow and lifted her gaze from the rug. With the man standing less than two feet away, Ingrid realized that she knew his icy blue eyes, which were now alive with undisguised emotion. She also recognized the shiny long-healed scar splitting his dark left eyebrow in two. Without thinking, Ingrid reached up and touched his newly cut hair, marveling at his dark waves’ unexpected silkiness. Then, her trembling, soft hand caressed his clean shaven cheek, and he leaned into her touch ever so slightly, making her breath catch in her throat.

  Good heavens! What am I doing?

  Realizing her breach of propriety, Ingrid ripped her hand away. The young lady fixed her eyes on the floor again, embarrassed by her second invasion of the king’s personal space. An onslaught of emotions she could scarcely put words to also overwhelmed her thundering heart.

  “Why aren’t you on the road to Anselm?” Viggo asked.

  “A wheel on our carriage broke.”

  Viggo furrowed his brow and pulled away, walking to the door.

  “Well, I’ll have another one prepared so you can be on your way.”

  “I don’t need another carriage.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t ride all the way home on horseback,” Viggo chided without a trace of exasperation.

  “I don’t want to go home at all.”

  Ingrid heard Viggo turn around to face her again, but she dared not meet his gaze just lest he see how her chest heaved with every anxious breath.

  “I’m not going to give in to my rage again. We set Ansgar’s and Bettina’s trial dates this morning, and their children are safe. You can trust me.”

  “I know. You are the reason I don’t want to leave.”

  Her heart filling with the boldness she’d initially lost in the transformed king’s presence, Ingrid turned around and faced Viggo, lifting the rose in trembling hands.

  “When the wheel broke, I decided to walk through the garden. There, I came upon a rose bush and remembered something my mother told me a long time ago.”

  “And what did she tell you?”

  “That no one is perfect. We all have our thorns, and we can’t be anything but scourges to the people around us left to our own devices. However, we can still love and enjoy one another despite our imperfections as long as we depend on God and turn from our sins in repentance,” Ingrid summarized. “I know our engagement hasn’t been easy, but I want to honor my promise to marry you.”

  “Ingrid, you’re not obliged to marry me out of duty or pity. You’re free to return to your home and marry whomever you choose.”

  “But I choose you!” she blurted. “And it’s not because of obligation or pity. I care about you deeply.”

  Ingrid took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment before looking at the king straight on and speaking once more.

  “Your Majesty … Viggo … I want to spend my life with you if you’ll have me.”

  Rather than responding, Viggo left the room, letting the door close behind him. Ingrid’s heart sank and her rapidly watering eyes dropped to the bloom in her hands. She chastised herself for not selecting her words more carefully before approaching the king or sending her father to patch up their broken engagement. In her haste, she invaded Viggo’s space and foolishly threw her heart his at feet only to have him trample on it by rejecting her in her most vulnerable moment … and she couldn’t even blame him after she’d been so harsh with him in recent days.

  What kind of man would want such a quarrelsome wife?

  But the door opened again.

  Ingrid lifted her eyes from the rose to see Viggo stride back into the room with a handkerchief. Taking the rose from her, he pressed the white cloth against her palm, but he didn’t withdraw once he finished. Instead, the king gently held her hands, marveling at how soft and delicate hers were compared to his.

  “The thorns pricked you,” he pointed out. “I couldn’t let my bride bleed out right in front of me.”

  Laughter bubbled from Ingrid’s throat as her tears of sorrow transformed into tears of joy. Viggo promptly wiped them away before giving her a grin that made deep dimples appear in his freshly shaven cheeks.

  “I’m sorry for concealing my identity. I didn’t want to prolong a painful goodbye, but my cowardice doesn’t excuse my deception. Will you forgive me?”

  “Of course, but I’m not sure if I would’ve believed you without hearing your voice clearly and looking into your eyes. You look so different. Why did you change?”

  “I wanted to look like a new man. My passions ruled me until I was nothing more than an animal driven by instinct and wrath, so I let myself look the part. I even swore never to wear anything but a military uniform until I avenged my parents. Now that I’m resolving not to be a beast, I decided to stop looking like one. I hope you think it’s an improvement.”

  Ingrid looked away for a moment, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as newfound attraction mingled with the affection in her heart.

  “You look very handsome.”

  Ingrid earned a bashful smile from her fiancé, who nervously rubbed the back of his neck and averted his delighted gaze. Viggo hadn’t heard a kind word spoken of his appearance in longer than he could remember, and having his future wife’s approval meant more to him than the compliment
s he received from his barber that morning.

  “Would you like to tell your father or shall I?” Viggo asked, clearing his throat.

  “I’ll tell him. I think he knew what I came back to do, but he needs to hear this from me so he can see how elated I am.”

  “And I will tell my brother. Halvard has been against our marriage from the start, but this won’t be the first difficult conversation we’ve had today.”

  Ingrid knitted her eyebrows together in concern.

  “What happened?”

  “I removed him from his position as my general and advisor. I love Halvard, but I cannot trust his counsel when he’s as blinded by his grief and animosity as I was. He also lost a great love in his youth, and our engagement being built on affection instead of obligation might add insult to injury.”

  “I’m sure he’ll come around in time.”

  “I hope he will as well, but you should go share the happy news with your father and Liesel before they freeze to death in the garden.”

  With one last smile, Ingrid released Viggo’s calloused hand, savoring the lingering sensation of his touch as she hurried back to the garden. As she passed through the palace, the young lady remembered the first time she agreed to marry Viggo. She had been afraid for her people, her family, and herself, but determined to do whatever she could to keep everyone safe. Now, as she began their second engagement, her heart soared with unparalleled mirth, affection, and hope.

  Chapter 7

  A dimpled grin lit up Viggo’s face when the chapel’s doors opened three days later to reveal his beautiful bride. Ingrid beamed at him from her father’s side with equal jubilation. The bride’s walk from the doors to the altar seemed unbearably slow as it transpired, but she felt as if she entered the chapel only seconds before once she stood beside the king.

  The priest began the ceremony by reminding those in attendance that the marriage they were witnessing was a picture of the union between Christ and His church, and such a covenant was not to be entered into lightly. As he spoke those words, the bride and groom both smiled. God, in his mercy, turned their hasty, imprudent engagement into what would soon be a happy, fruitful marriage.

  “Your Majesty, King Viggo Ingvar Lund, will you take this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together in accordance with God’s design in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love, comfort, honor, and keep her, in sickness and in health; forsaking all others, clinging only to her, so long as you both shall live?”

  “I will,” he swore.

  “My lady, Ingrid Carina Kappel, will you take this man to be your wedded husband, to live together in accordance with God’s design in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you serve, love, honor, obey, and keep him, in sickness and in health; forsaking all others, clinging only to him, so long as you both shall live?”

  “I will,” Ingrid grinned.

  “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

  “I do,” Edmund responded, taking a step back and leaving Ingrid and Viggo at the altar with the priest.

  The old man took Ingrid’s right hand and placed it in Viggo’s. Her heart fluttered as she remembered the moment the king placed a handkerchief in her hand days before and renewed his pledge to marry her.

  “Repeat after me, Your Majesty,” the clergyman instructed.

  After the priest recited the vows, Viggo repeated the holy oath.

  “I, Viggo, take you, Ingrid, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part, according to God’s holy design. This I swear with my heart, and soul, and spirit.”

  Once Viggo finished his vows, they released their hands and grasped them again. As before, the priest spoke Ingrid’s vows, which she reiterated with heartfelt, smiling devotion.

  “I, Ingrid, take you, Viggo, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, to cherish, and to obey until death do us part, according to God’s holy design. This I swear with my heart, and soul, and spirit.”

  Forcing himself to let go of his bride’s hand, Viggo took Ingrid’s simple, gold wedding ring and set it on the priest’s Bible. After a brief prayer, the man of the cloth picked up the ring and handed it back to Viggo. Then, the king slipped the ring on Ingrid’s fourth finger until it touched her mother’s ruby ring.

  “With this ring, I bind myself to you in holy matrimony. All that I am and all that I have is now yours, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

  After Ingrid recited the same pledge and gave Viggo his ring, the two knelt before the altar as the priest prayed over the couple’s marriage in the sight of their loved ones. Listening to the prayer, which entreated God to help them live in perfect love and perfect peace, Viggo was humbled.

  Nothing resembling love or peace resided in his heart when he began invading Schlagefilde. Now, his proficiency as a husband largely depended on his ability to keep those virtues at the center of their relationship. He would need God’s help more than ever to live up to his holy standard and to give his beautiful wife the life she deserved.

  Ending the prayer with a solemn affirmation, the priest gestured for the two to rise to their feet. Then, he placed their hands together and announced with a joyful finality, “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. I now pronounce you husband and wife in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. You may now kiss your bride.”

  Viggo lifted the lace veil from Ingrid’s radiant face, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest as he leaned in to seal their marriage with their first of many sweet kisses. When his lips touched hers for that brief moment, her very soul sang a song of tenderness and joy. She never wanted the moment to end, but the devotion and awe she beheld in Viggo’s sparkling blue eyes took her breath away more than his kiss had.

  As Ingrid looked away shyly with flushed cheeks and her rosy lips curved into an easy smile, Viggo recognized the love shining on her face. After all, it mirrored the adoration in his softened heart. The king lifted his wife’s hand to his lips and kissed it, earning another rident grin.

  In that delightful moment, he marveled at how he had miraculously earned not only the respect but also the love of a woman like her. Ingrid was lovely beyond compare in his eyes, but he knew her true beauty came from her heart … A heart which had somehow done the impossible task of seeing the good in a king who had shown himself to be nothing more than a beast.

  About the Author

  Kristen Reed, a graduate of the University of Texas at Dallas, is an artist, filmmaker, and author from Dallas, Texas. As a Christian, her faith influences her writing and is the driving force in her life.

  Visit kristenreedauthor.com to learn more.