Crowning His Kidnapped Princess

God, if you bring Clara back to me, I’ll be a better man. I’ll open bereavement centres for children. I’ll open animal sanctuaries. I’ll—

A blast of music jolted him from his prayers. What jolted him even more was the recognition. It was the song he’d danced with Clara to...

He spun around.

His mouth dropped open.

Walking up the aisle in a white dress any princess in the world would be proud to wear was Clara. She was looking straight at him, beaming. At her side, with an identical grin and in a deep green bridesmaid dress, and carrying Bob, was his sister.

He blinked vigorously, hardly daring to believe what his eyes were telling him.

She got closer.

It wasn’t until she was a couple of feet from him that he saw she wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up. Her hair had been swept into a loose bun, the tiara was skewed.

She had never looked more beautiful.

For a long moment, they did nothing more than stare at each other in wonderment.

And then the beaming smile returned. ‘Ready to get married then, my prince?’

He couldn’t help himself. Forgetting tradition and propriety, he pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her passionately, his senses filling with the taste and scent of the woman he’d deep-down believed he’d lost for ever.

When they came up for air, he gazed in awe at the beautiful face he loved so much. ‘You came.’

Her eyes shone up at him. ‘I love you.’ She sighed. ‘I love you so much. I’m so sorry for—’

He put a finger to her lips. ‘No. You are here. That is all that matters, and you, my princess, have just made me the happiest man in the world.’

Tears welled in her eyes, but then she blinked and a flash of the old mischief suddenly crossed over her face. Marcelo thought he might just burst from the happiness that bloomed at the sight of it.

‘You might want to check my feet out before you call me your princess again.’

Holding her hand tightly, he stepped back to drop his gaze to her feet.

She pulled the skirt of her dress up a couple of inches so only he could see. Instead of the traditional cream or white heels a bride usually wore, Clara had donned a pair of trainers.

‘Princess Twinkletoes forgot to bring the shoes,’ she explained with a giggle. ‘I would have run back to our quarters for them but thought you were probably on the verge of a heart attack as it was.’

Laughing loudly, he hugged her tightly again then took her hand firmly in his and faced the bemused priest.

Without an ounce of hesitation, they both pledged their lives together.

It was the best day of both their lives.