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“Pumpkin…I…you look…,” he stammered. Finally, he smiled. “You look like a princess out of a fairy tale.”
Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You outshine the stars, Pumpkin.” He carefully arranged the veil over her face and Jean helped adjust it.
Anne caught one more look at herself in the mirror. The sun shone through the windows and the crystals on her dress caught the light, sparkling as she moved. The tiara was a perfect match and the simplicity of the veil contrasted nicely with the elaborateness of the dress.
She was ready.
Sliding her arm through her father’s, she beamed a smile at him. “Let’s do this, Daddy.”
Jean fussed over her train as they made their way to the vestibule. The organ was playing something elaborate and there was the quiet hum of conversation.
Kade and Maria were paired and waiting for the ceremony to begin. In front of them were the flower girl and ring bearer—two adorable six-year-old fraternal twins whose mom worked with Anne. She’d been thrilled when Anne had asked if they’d agree to be in the wedding. Of course, Anne wouldn’t let her buy the clothing. She was well-aware of the kind of salary people at the department earned.
Her mother was by herself. Anne had a momentary pang of loss. It should’ve been her brother to walk her mom down the aisle.
She determinedly pushed that thought away. She had to believe that her brother was there with her, watching down over them all.
Blane had grimaced when she’d suggested organ music for the procession and Anne had laughed at his expression. He’d suggested a small brass ensemble and Pachelbel’sCanon in Dfor when Anne came down the aisle. She hadn’t objected.
Kade caught her eye and winked. Anne smiled shyly back.
Jean sent her mom down the aisle, then the flower girl and ring bearer, the little girl happily tossing rose petals. Then Kade and Maria disappeared inside the doors.
Jean closed the doors and moved Anne and her father into place, making a few last adjustments to her veil and train. Oddly enough, Anne was calm. The music was beautiful. And Blane was waiting for her. She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. Today was their day.
Jean flung open the doors just as the music changed to Pachelbel and Anne caught her first glimpse of Blane, dressed in his officer’s uniform adorned with medals, the epaulets on his shoulders bearing multiple gold stripes. A sword hung by his side.
Her breath caught in her chest.
* * *
Blane couldn’t breathe.
It was her. Somehow, the fairy princess stepping down the aisle on her father’s arm was his bride.
She sparkled as she moved, so graceful, she looked as though she were floating.
Everyone stood. The cathedral was packed to overflowing. Only two photographers were allowed inside the church: Blane and Anne’s official wedding photographer, and another to take images for Getty that would be available to the media.
The music resonated through the church, soaring to the arched ceiling above him. The twelve-piece orchestra he’d hired from the musicians in the New York Philharmonic were worth every penny. Considering how Anne looked, he should’ve hired the whole damn orchestra.
Her father beamed at her side, his chest puffed out with obvious pride as they slowly made their way down the aisle.
“Damn,” Kade whispered in his ear. “You go, brother.”
Blane barely heard him, his eyes glued to Anne. Finally, she reached him and halted. Dimly, Blane heard the bishop ask, “Who gives this bride to be wed in holy matrimony?”
“Her mother and I do.”
Anne’s father gave her one last peck on the cheek through the filmy veil, then went to sit by her mother.
Blane stepped forward and placed her arm through his and they ascended the stairs to the altar and waiting bishop.
Blane couldn’t tell anyone later exactly what was said by the bishop. Though they were supposed to face front, Blane’s eyes were glued to Anne, who kept shyly glancing his way before dutifully back toward the bishop. He remembered having to take communion and kneeling before an altar with Anne, and something about candles.
The vows were the traditional ones, which he fervently repeated, staking his honor on his word and grasping Anne’s hands tightly in his. Maria held the bouquet while Anne softly repeated her vows. Their gazes were locked together. Blane desperately wanted to remove the veil so he could see her face clearly.
They exchanged rings. Anne had said nothing fancy. Blane couldn’t help it that the jeweler thought diamond baguettes embedded in the platinum band would look exquisite.
