AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Then don’t marry him,” he simply says. “I have a car outside waiting for you, just in case.”
“You do?” I ask, incredulous.
“Of course. Say the word and we’re out of here.”
I blink at him. “But what about the king? The business will be ruined. You’ll have a target on your back for the rest of your life.”
He shrugs. “We can change our names and move to a fishing village in Portugal.”
I haven’t laughed this hard in a long time.
I suck my lips into my mouth. “Or maybe everything will turn out just fine,” I say.
“My girl, you have made the best of the worst situations. Whatever you decide to do today, I know everything will turn out more than fine. Your life will be spectacular.”
“I love you, Daddy.” And yes, I’m still pissed about the beer business, but parental relationships are complicated.
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
“Dammit, now you’ve ruined my eye makeup,” I laugh wetly.
He hands me his pocket square, and I don’t realize what it is until I’ve smudged it with mascara.
“Ilsa will have a fit over you ruining this silk.”
He chuckles, then both of us startle as the ushers abruptly throw open the arched oak doors.
My eyes widen and my throat dries up at the sight of the chapel. It’s the most elaborate celebration of a sham marriage I’ve ever seen. More white roses and crystals and candles. It’s so much, and no one even asked me what I’d prefer.
I take a deep breath. “Guess I’m doing this.”
“Last chance,” Daddy says.
9
Etienne
The wedding march begins and I turn to my sister, standing to my left. Flora nudges me, whispering, “Don’t look at me. Here comes your bride, dummy.”
Slowly making her way down the aisle with the silly beer man is…her.
Kala St. Rain.
Unlike the bizarre dream from this morning, there’s not a speck of tulle anywhere in sight. Her dress. Good gods.
The pale silk sheath skims every curve, shimmering over hips that she usually hides inside conservative outfits. The straight neckline cuts across the swells of her breasts, and reveals bare freckled shoulders.
As my bride approaches, her practiced smile can’t hide the worry in her eyes.
I know she’s doing this to pay off her father’s debt to the king.
She doesn’t want to be here. And she’s scared.
Her eyes scan me for clues. Will I run? Fall down drunk at the altar? She’s wise to be worried.
Everyone in this room is holding their breath as they wait for me to slur my words, stumble into the altar, or do something needlessly stupid.
If any of them knew the truth—if these assembled dukes, duchesses, lords and ladies, prime minister, and her entourage knew what my father said to me when he forced me into this engagement—I shudder to think of the repercussions.
