Masked Prince (Fated Royals 2)

“You look beautiful, my girl,” he said.

Behind me, I felt the gentle tug of my train being fanned out to its full, luxurious length. I glanced back behind me to see Bonny, who had been helping me at the farm since she was a girl. She looked so beautiful in the dark green brocade that I had chosen for all my maids for my wedding day.

For today wasn’t just my wedding day. It was also the day of the harvest festival. And, in honor of that very first time Randal saw me, I chose dark green for my maids and a bouquet of wheat and roses. The tables for the feasts after the ceremony were spilling over with cornucopias of red apples, at Randal’s special request.

I adjusted the crown of wheat and lavender I wore. Then I got up on my tiptoes and gave Randal’s father a kiss on the cheek, his white scruff gently scratching my skin. “Thank you, father.”

“Ahhh,” he said, smiling up at the sun. “Never gets old to hear you say it.”

The music changed to a march and everybody in the cathedral rose. “Shall we?” Randal’s father asked. And we were off.

We stepped inside and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the shimmering light that spilled through the enormous stained-glass windows. But I knew where to look, even as my eyes adjusted. At him, always at him. And as the scene got clearer, I saw him. Randal. My love, my King, my everything.

He smiled at me the whole way down the aisle. Each step brought me closer and closer to my future, to my new life.

At the front of the church, Randal’s father gave me a peck on my cheek and then handed me over to Randal. I melted into his strength and took a long deep breath to fill my lungs with his warm, sexy scent.

Together, we walked the last few steps to the altar. His forearm was even bigger than I remembered somehow, and gleaming in his ceremonial silver chain mail, with a deep green velvet beneath. Green was to be our color. The color of prosperity, good fortune…and fertility.

As I gave my bouquet to Bonny and took his hands, I gazed up at him. There was a whole private universe between us; a whole realm of secret desires and experiences unspoken. The darkness of our dungeon, the intensity of our love.

“Do you, Iris, take King Randal to be your husband, to have, to hold….” The bishop said the words, but they felt far away, like I was overhearing them across a meadow. It was okay—I knew them by heart already. I focused on Randal’s beautiful eyes, his scars, his confidence. His utter, breathtaking, heart-throbbing perfection.

“I do.”

“And do you, King Randal…”

The words faded away again, and I let myself get lost in his eyes, knitting my fingers into his, running my thumb over the edge of his chain-mail cuff. He had done so much, not only for me, but for the whole kingdom. He was such a magnificent man. And I was lucky to have him as mine. But more than that, I was lucky—in every single way—to be his.

Promises gave way to vows, vows gave way to rings, and I watched—mesmerized—as his huge fingers wiggled my ring onto my finger, at the way the diamonds that encrusted the band pressed into his fingertips.

More vows, more promises. I was blushing so hard I knew I must be cherry red. This was our big moment. This was it.

“…then you may kiss the bride.”

The organ music roared up into its most majestic octaves, making my whole body tremble, but as soon as his lips met mine, I hardly heard or felt the vibrations of the notes. Because the kiss, oh God, that kiss. He took my cheek in his huge hand, gripping the back of my neck with his thick, strong fingers.

I groaned into his mouth, watching him through slightly parted lashes. He was watching me, too, and I felt him smile as I smiled. This was no polite kiss, though; this was deep and long and the sort of thing I’d never done in public before. The crowd hooted their appreciation as he stepped into me and pulled me close, with one massive hand on the small of my back, lowering me down into a dizzying dip.

When the kiss finally ended, the crowd erupted in applause and delight.

Now was the part of the ceremony when we turned to walked back down to the aisle, but as I tugged on his arm to turn and go, he shook his head at me, smiling. All mischief. “I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said into my ear.

My maids of honor stepped back, as did his men. Two priests joined the bishop that had married us. The organ music built up into one chest-shaking chord and then ceased. The cheers of the crowd died down.