Claim

33

Kira’s stomach filled with nervousness as she looked down at the lawn. The weather had cooperated beautifully, producing a sunny spring day that was only slightly cool. Everyone had arrived, the chairs in front of the pergola filled with their friends. The string quartet Rosemary had hired played softly, the notes drifting to Kira in the bedroom suite where she had been getting ready.

The rooms were still under construction, but Rosemary had had two full length mirrors brought in along with a vanity where Kira did her hair and makeup, and the room had proved more than suitable as a staging space for the wedding.

Kira’s eyes were pulled to the dark figures at the edge of the back lawn. She’d protested about the security so close to the ceremony — the woods behind the house were thick with trees, and the front of the house was well guarded — but Lyon had insisted, and she could tell it had eased his mind.

She touched her hand to the gun under her dress. It had been to heavy too be held in place by her garter, so she’d used one of Lyon’s ties instead, knotting it tightly around her thigh. She thought having it with her would make her nervous, but she was surprised to find it gave her a kind of quiet comfort.

Just in case…

Word had still not gotten out about Ivan’s death, although Roman Kalashnik had confirmed through secure channels that it was done. Lyon had told Kira it meant either that Ivan’s body and that of his security team hadn’t yet been discovered on his private estate, or that Vadim Ivanov was guarding the news while he figured out his next move.

Either way, it felt to Kira like a reprieve. By Monday, the news would surely be out. Then, there would be no denying its impact or the danger.

Today she was determined to enjoy her wedding and the commitment she was making to Lyon.

The door to the room opened and Zoya entered, looking lovely in a red dress she’d chosen for the occasion.

“They’re ready to begin.” The older woman’s features gentled as she took in Kira in her mother’s wedding dress. She nodded with satisfaction. “This is right. You look so beautiful.”

Zoya’s Russian accent was stronger than usual, which is how Kira knew she was feeling emotional. It was a contrast to her demeanor on the day of Kira’s first wedding to Lyon, when Zoya had worn black and carried herself like a pallbearer at a particularly devastating funeral.

“Is the headpiece straight?” Kira asked, touching the diamond band on her head.

Zoya reached out to adjust it, but Kira had the feeling it was more to give herself something to do with her hands than because the headpiece actually needed adjusting.

“This man you are marrying again…” Zoya began. “He is obnoxious. He is arrogant. He is a dangerous man. Maybe even a bad man. He is — ”

“Zoya! Enough!” Kira said, shocked her old friend would say such things minutes before she recommitted herself to Lyon.

Zoya scowled. “You didn’t let me finish.” She paused, as if to highlight the suffering she must endure at Kira’s hands. “He is wounded, Kira. I see this now. But he loves you. His love for you is like none I have seen. You will be in good hands, safe hands, with him. And so… I give you my blessing.”

Kira threw her arms around Zoya. She hadn’t asked for Zoya’s blessing, but she was unspeakably happy to have it. “Thank you.”

“And now,” Zoya said, nodding at the window, “your groom awaits. We must go.”

Kira took another look through the window and saw that Lyon had stepped to the front of the crowd. Her heart stuttered as she looked at him, standing tall and proud, as magnificent as the animal for which he was named, in a fitted black tuxedo that highlighted every inch of his muscled body.

It felt like time slowed. Like she was seeing every moment in her life in a new light, seeing that they had all led her right here.

To this moment. To this man.

It was where she belonged.

“I’m ready,” she said, turning away from the window. “I’ve never been more ready.”