Temporarily His Princess (Married by Royal Decree 1)

This was Vincenzo as he was born to be. As she’d never seen him before. The prince whose blood ran thick with nobility and entitlement. The man who inhabited a realm she should have never seen, let alone entered. But she had entered it once, tangentially. Now she was stumbling all the way in, even if for only a year.

Her ravenous gaze devoured his every detail. His lavish costume complemented her dress, magnifying his height, breadth and bulk, worshipping his coloring and lines. A mid-thigh jacket in royal-blue silk, embroidered with Castaldinian designs, opened over a crisp white satin shirt and golden sash. His black fitted pants disappeared into knee-high shining black leather boots. A gold cape embroidered in blues and white flowed at his back down to his calf and completed the image of an otherworldly prince.

She’d always thought no description did him justice. Seemed there were always new heights to the injustice. Of his beauty. Of his escalating effect on her.

And he was hers. Tonight. And for a whole year.

Alonzo gave him the same water he’d given her to drink, and Gabrielle whispered that now the evil spirits couldn’t come between them from the inside.

Vincenzo strode in, a predator who had his prey standing before him. His eyes swept her before returning to her face with a promise that turned her into a mass of tremors.

And that was before he stopped before her and said, “I’ll kick these helpful ladies out and take the edge off so I can survive the torturous festivities ahead.”

The wild gleam in his eyes told her he wasn’t joking. He wanted to take her now, hard and fast.

Her lungs emptied on a ragged gasp. “Vincenzo…”

“Don’t stand there devouring your bride with looks and intentions.” That was Clarissa, her voice merry. She must have guessed what Vincenzo was saying. “The sooner you’re done with the ceremony, the sooner you can devour her for real.”

Unable to blush any deeper, she watched Vincenzo turn to his queen with a glare, felt him vibrating with control as he offered her his arm.

She clung to it as if to a raft in a stormy sea, felt his power moving her legs and his support holding her up as they exited the chamber after another water-sprinkling ritual.

It felt as if she was outside her body watching the whole spectacle unfold as they passed through the castle’s torch-lit corridors to the courtyard where the ceremony would be held. Her dazed gaze swept the magical setting that had become even more so with extensive decorations and ingenious lighting. Alonzo had turned the main building, its satellites and the grounds into a setting for a dream.

They passed through hundreds, maybe thousands, of smiling faces, only a few registering a spark of recognition in her stalled mind. Princes Durante and Eduardo, Gio, Alonzo’s partner, and other relatives of Vincenzo’s whom she’d met in the past week. Her gaze hiccupped and lingered only once, on her father and brother. They looked so dashing in their fineries, so moved, looking at her so lovingly. Her resentment crumbled and her heart trembled with that affection that had and would always defy logic.

Then Vincenzo swept her away and to the stage that now blocked the doors of the central tower, facing the courtyard where guests milled in concentric semicircles of tables.

As soon as they took the last step up the royal-blue satin-covered stairs, where a sumptuously dressed minister awaited them between King Ferruccio and Crown Prince Leandro, who would be their witnesses, the live medley of regal music stopped. Silence and sea breeze lamented in her ears as Vincenzo handed her down so she could kneel on the velvet cushion before the minister, then he followed her, keeping her molded to his side.

The minister of the province’s main church—a jovial man who’d told her how delighted he was to be finally marrying the confirmed bachelor lord of his province—gave a little speech then recited the marriage vows, in Italian then in English, for the bride’s guests’ benefit. As per Vincenzo’s province and family traditions, bride and groom didn’t repeat those vows or exchange ones of their own.

She welcomed that. She had nothing to say to Vincenzo. Nothing but the truth of her feelings. And those should not and would never leave her heart to pass through her lips.

Ferruccio came forward with their rings, blessing them and their union as their king, accepting their bows with that still-pondering smile. This guy was just too astute.

His assessing eyes spiked her agitation so much it made her keep missing Vincenzo’s finger as she tried to slip his wedding band on. Vincenzo took hold of her hands and branded them with a kiss that rendered them useless before guiding them through the achingly symbolic ritual. The imaginary pins holding up her smile started to pierce into her flesh.

Then it was Leandro’s turn as the second witness to perform the last ritual, coming forward with a crystal goblet. Vincenzo clasped her to his side as he leaned down, plastering his cheek against hers as Leandro held the goblet to their lips for them to simultaneously sip the bloodred liquid that tasted and smelled of an elusive amalgam of spices, fruits and flowers. He recited the words that would “bind their blood” so that they’d never be complete without the other.

Then Vincenzo turned her to face the crowd, who were now on their feet in a standing ovation, holding up their similarly filled glasses and toasting the couple in unison.

This was really happening. She was standing with the man she’d thought she’d lost forever, before his family, friends and followers, before the world, as his bride and princess.

Acting as his bride and princess. Never forget that, and you might yet survive this.

Just when she thought the worst was over, Vincenzo made everything infinitely worse.

His magnificent voice rose, carrying on the deepening night’s breeze. “My people, my family and friends, everyone blessed to call Castaldini home. I give you your new princess. The glory of my life. Gloria D’Agostino.”

If he hadn’t had her firmly tucked into his side, she would have folded to the ground.

The canopy of moonlit sky at his back blurred as he looked down at her with an intensity that flayed her already inflamed senses. He brought her back into her body, crushing it to his, and swooped down to claim her lips, reclaiming her wasteland of a soul, feeling like bliss, tasting like life.

The crowd roared its approval accompanied with a storm of clinking glasses as the orchestra played a joyful tune this time, with the majority of the crowd joining in, a song celebrating the newlyweds’ future happiness.

As the festivities escalated into the night, she lost herself in the creativity of Alonzo’s efforts and the enthusiasm of everyone present. The fantasy of it all deepened until she felt she’d never resurface, until her ordinary, solitary life blipped out from her memory.