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By then, he’ll be hers.
She cannot believe he’ll be hers to keep. Her own man.
She wants to strut about the house on his arm, so everyone can see, and shout he’s mine.
Alessia laughs at herself, feeling a little foolish and giddy.
He loves her—he told her in no uncertain terms this morning—and his declaration has fortified her inner strength.
Since Caroline’s shocking revelation, Alessia has realized that his family is challenging her. She squares her shoulders.
Challenge accepted.
Maxim is worth fighting for.
She’s just stood up to his mother, and she’ll remain vigilant. Maxim has always been circumspect about Rowena, so Alessia will be cautious too. She knows that she must build a bridge with Caroline. After all, she’s Maxim’s sister-in-law. But still, she’s wary. Caroline has her own agenda, and Alessia suspects she’s in love with Maxim.
“Alessia, here!” Agnesa calls and hands Alessia her bouquet of white roses.
“Thank you.” Alessia smiles as Maxim takes her hand, and she puts her thoughts aside as together they leave the house.
Alessia drops Maxim’s hand as she steps out of the house and takes the handkerchief her mother has embroidered for her for this very occasion. As tradition dictates, she pretends to be sad that she’s leaving her parents’ house and dabs at her eyes, but inside she’s dancing.
“Are you okay?” Maxim asks, concerned as he slips his hand over her elbow.
She flashes him a quick grin and winks at him.
His brow creases. He’s puzzled but amused.
“It’s tradition.”
“Oh?”
“There’s no prettiness in a bride without tears,” she whispers.
Maxim shakes his head, not understanding, but they’re soon distracted by the cheers and applause from family and friends as they make their way, flanked by Tom and Joe, toward the spacious tent. Her parents and Maxim’s mother follow in their wake as they head into the venue, ready for the wedding ceremony.
* * *
We’re seated in front of Ferid Tabaku, the registrar, at a small table—with the Demachis, their family and friends, and the scant members of my family sitting at the tables behind us—while he solemnly informs us of our obligations.
Tabaku stands and reads through the code for the family, explaining what is expected of us during our marriage. Thanas quietly translates everything for me.
“Spouses have the same rights and duties toward each other.” He peers at both of us, his dark eyes bright with sincerity. “They should love and respect each other, maintain marital fidelity, assist each other in fulfilling all family and social obligations…”
I glance at Alessia, and she squeezes my hand as tears form in her eyes. I look away quickly as a knot forms in my throat.
Deep breaths, mate.
Tabaku goes on and on and on… and I think it takes longer because poor Thanas has to translate everything.
Behind us, the crowd, even though they are seated, begins to fidget. There are coughs and snickers, and a baby starts to cry. A child says something that causes some tittering in the congregation, but I have no idea what he’s said. I think it’s his mother that removes him from the room, and I suspect he needs the lavatory.
Finally, Tabaku asks if we agree to our obligations and consent to the marriage.
“I agree to all our obligations, and consent,” I respond.
The registrar nods, satisfied with my answer, and turns to Alessia, who answers him in Albanian, and I hope she agrees and consents too. She gives me a quick smile.
“I have your consent. I now declare you are married in the name of the law.” Tabaku smiles, and the Albanians erupt into applause. “Congratulations,” he says. “You may exchange rings.”
I wondered when we were going to do the rings.
I fish them from where I’ve secured them—my inside pocket, next to my heart.
“Lady Trevethick,” I say to Alessia, and she gives me her hand. I slide on the platinum ring, feeling a little weird that I don’t have to say anything. It fits perfectly. Thank goodness. I raise her hand to my lips, my eyes on hers, and kiss the ring and her knuckle together.
Alessia’s answering smile is crotch-tighteningly beautiful. I hand her my ring, and she slips it on my finger. “Lord Trevethick,” she whispers, and taking my hand in both of hers, she kisses the ring and my knuckle, then leans forward and kisses me.
The Albanians applaud and cheer, and Tom leans down. “Congratulations, Trevethick,” he says, and I stand and hug him. Joe is next.
“Gentlemen, you will need to witness the marriage contract. Maxim, Alessia, you need to sign them too,” Thanas tells us.
* * *
Maxim’s family approaches them.
“Congratulations,” his mother says to Maxim in her clipped, crisp tone. She places her hand on his arm and offers her cheek.
“Thank you, Mother,” Maxim responds, equally clipped and crisp, and his lips barely graze her cheek.
She turns her steely, dry eyes on Alessia. “You make a beautiful bride, Alessia. Welcome to the family.” She offers her cheek to Alessia, and taking her cue from Maxim, Alessia gives her a quick peck, mindful that she’s wearing lipstick.
