Page 135 of Fallen Court

Lach was still laughing as I shut the door behind us and slumped against it. I’d never seen him like this before—so light, not a single shadow lurking in his eyes. It soothed my jangled nerves enough for me to smile.

But Ciara knocked on the door before I could catch my breath. “They can do a private appointment this afternoon.”

I tried to muster as much enthusiasm as I could as I called through the door. “Great!” I lowered my voice. “Is it just me, or are things moving at warp speed here?”

Darkness crept over his features. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No! God, no. Never.” I shook my head. “I’m ready to be married to you. I just… I’m not sure I’m prepared for the full Princess Diana wedding extravaganza your sister seems ready to plan.”

He prowled closer and planted a hand on either side of me. “What if we ditched them and went down to the courthouse right now? We could be married before lunch.”

I laughed, only half sure he was joking. “Don’t tempt me.” Avoiding a full-blown fae wedding was my dream scenario. “But I’m pretty sure Ciara would hunt us down and drag me to that boutique by my hair if I tried to bail.”

“So, no cold feet, then? You’re just trying to get out of shopping with my sister.” Lach shook his head in mock disapproval.

I was already exhausted from the night before. “I don’t know where fae get their stamina,” I muttered, “but your sister uses hers shopping.”

He kissed my forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it up to you later using mine.”

“You’d better.” My toes curled at the thought. I sighed, resigning myself to an afternoon of silk and tulle. “I better get in the shower before she breaks down the door to find out what wedding colors we want.”

But a slow smirk spread across his face. “How about I give you an early demonstration of my stamina?”

I fluttered my lashes, pretending to be put out. “If you must.”

Lach swept me up and threw me over his shoulder, playfully swatting my rear. “You’re going to be the death of me, princess.”

For once, he sounded pretty pleased about it.

I felt like I’d been ushered into heaven—if heaven came with what were sure to be jaw-dropping price tags. Creamy wallpaper with hints of gold softened the walls, chandeliers dripped crystals overhead, and, of course, there was more champagne. But the showpieces were the gowns lined up in rack after rack of lace, silk, and tulle. The shop, Blanche, had closed early for the day to allow us a private shopping experience, and the sales associate flitted around, fawning over us like a guardian angel. My stomach did a nervous little flip as she appeared with yet another gown strewn across her arms.

The champagne fizzed over my tongue, and I willed its bubbles to help ease my queasiness.

“What about something like this?” Ciara turned around, clutching a lace gown trimmed with white fur.

I wrinkled my nose. “It’s a bit much.”

She pivoted to the mirror, fiddling with its trim, a dreamy smile on her face. “But if you get married around Yule…”

“Yule?” I didn’t need anyone to translate that fae holiday. My stomach cramped at the idea of being married in just over a month. “Isn’t that kind of fast? We’ve been engaged for like ten seconds.”

“I just thought…” She trailed away, her mouth pressing into a tight line.

My brows creased at the obvious shift in her tone. “You thought what?”

Her eyes met mine in the mirror’s reflection, something flashing through them before she returned to studying the dress with a bit too much interest. There was no mistaking the hollow pain I’d seen for that split second. “I thought you might want to do it sooner, since…”

“Fiona is going to find something,” I said firmly. Even Sirius had said that they would. “We don’t need to plan a shotgun wedding.”

She rolled her eyes as she hung the dress back on the rack. “No one said anything about that.” But she frowned as she chose another one and held it up for my appraisal. “Although everyone will probably be heavily armed.”

My fiancé included.

“What about this one?” she asked.

Something told me this shopping trip wouldn’t be over until I’d picked one.

This dress was simpler, a silk A-line with cap sleeves that flowed into a short train, but I found myself shaking my head. My stomach did another tumble, the squeezing sensation moving lower. This was something more than nerves or excitement. “I think I need to use the bathroom. I don’t feel so good.”