by Zoe Blake
Peeking past his shoulder, I could see the guests starting to shift in their seats as they tried to see what was happening. The soft murmurings in the church rose in intensity as word probably spread through the crowd that the bride had appeared, looking like a madwoman.
Richard’s body stiffened. He too must have realized we were now the subject of speculation among the wedding guests.
Placing an arm around my back, he ushered me back into the small dark antechamber. Sweeping his hand along the wall next to the door, he found the light switch. The room glowed with soft light from an ancient light fixture above us. Wrapping his hand around my forearm, he led me to a small grouping of richly upholstered chairs and sat me down on one. Lowering down on his haunches, he placed his warm hands on the tops of my thighs and looked deeply into my eyes. I hated to see his own gaze troubled and worried.
He was probably thinking I was getting cold feet about marrying him. It was the truth but not for the reasons he probably suspected.
Reaching up, he stroked my pale cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “Tell me,” he ordered, his voice a soothing dark honey on my frayed nerves.
I couldn’t even form the words. I raised my arm. Looking down, he saw the dreadful phone still clutched in my shaking fist.
Reaching for it, he had to pry my fingers loose. Rising to his full height, with a concerned glance at me, he took a few steps away and pressed the home button on the phone.
The room was deathly quiet.
It completely shut all noise from the chatter of the wedding guests out by the heavy wooden door. There wasn’t even a clock in this small anteroom to break the oppressive silence.
As I waited for his reaction, I couldn’t help but twist the delicate silk of my dress between my nervous hands. I was ruining it, but in this moment, a few wrinkles in the skirt of my wedding dress seemed the least of my worries.
“Goddamn it.”
His harsh curse broke the silence and caused me to jump.
Placing the phone in the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket, Richard returned to me. Once more going down on his haunches, he placed a warm hand along my jaw. I held my breath, wondering if he would call off the wedding, having no idea if I wanted him to or not.
“It means nothing.”
My breath escaped in a shocked gasp. “Richard! How could you possibly say it means nothing?” Gesturing to the phone in his pocket, I continued, “There are countless photos of you with a laser gunsight on your chest!”
Richard rose and lifted me up by my shoulders. He then sat in the chair and placed me on his lap. It was a little awkward with the heavy skirts of my dress, but neither of us cared.
Placing a finger under my chin, he said solemnly, “Nothing. Nothing,” he repeated for emphasis, “is going to keep me from making you my wife today.”
“Who is she? Why is she tormenting us like this?”
Richard sighed. “She’s a mistake from my past and that is all I will say on the matter, Elizabeth. Do not ask again,” he finished firmly, his anger clear in the tightness of his jaw and furrowed brow.
“What if she tries to kill you?”
“My love, the queen is in attendance. There isn’t a single dark corner of this entire abbey that isn’t at this very moment being patrolled by both my security and her own. We are perfectly safe.”
I lowered my head, unsure of what to say.
Richard placed a hand on the side of my head and tilted it close to give me a chaste kiss on the forehead. “My poor little one. I promise I will keep you safe. You have my word. I will let nothing happen to you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”
Richard tapped my nose, then said in a light teasing tone, “If you’re worried about me, that must mean you like me, perhaps a little bit. Maybe even love me?”
I pouted. “Don’t tease, Richard. You know I love you!”
He gave me one of his rare smiles, which made his dark eyes glow. “I love you, too. So, let’s go make it official; after all, it’s rude to keep the queen waiting.”
My hand flew to my mouth. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! The queen! She probably thinks I’m this obnoxious American who selfishly doesn’t care about royal protocol! Richard!”
Lifting me off his lap, he stood and straightened his jacket. “As soon as she meets you, the queen will see why I fell in love with such a charming, innocent girl and adore you as I do.”
Looking around for a mirror, I lifted my hand to my hair. “Have I made a complete mess of my hair and makeup?”
After surveying me from head to toe, he lifted his arms to straighten my orange blossom wreath and tuck an errant curl behind my ear. “I think you look perfect.”
Nervously biting my lip, I gave him a sheepish look. “Is it bad I wish we could walk down the aisle together? I was nervous before seeing those photos, but now I’m positively petrified.”
Placing a reassuring hand at my lower back, he said, “Your wish is my command.”
“Richard, really? Won’t they get angry? Mr. Simmons will probably have a heart attack!”
He shook his head. “Since when have I ever let what others might say deter me?”
Walking over to the door that led to the altar, Richard opened it halfway and gestured to someone on the other side. A quick whispered conversation took place. I couldn’t hear what was said, but the person nodded and turned away.
Richard returned to my side. Placing a reassuring hand on my lower back, he escorted me out of the room and once more down the long hallway to my chamber. I was so glad to have Richard by my side, I completely forgot to even mention the missing guards.
Walking through the chamber, I retrieved my simple orange blossom bouquet before we entered the main cathedral and took our place at the top of the main aisle. The seven-piece orchestra began the opening strains of Sir Charles Hubert Hastings Parry’s ‘Bridal March.’ Looping my arm through his, Richard placed a hand over mine and gave me a wink.
With Richard by my side, we walked slowly toward the altar.
The kaleidoscope spun and spun.
This time it was a starburst of video cameras, extravagant hats, military uniforms, and the constant clatter of camera shutters almost drowning out the music.
I didn’t care about any of it. I focused on the feel of Richard’s hand on mine. Of the brush of his thigh against my wedding dress. I drew on his confidence and strength and his love.
Just before we reached the high altar, we both turned to offer our respects to Queen Elizabeth. Using Richard’s forearm to keep me steady, I lowered into a somewhat shaky but still respectable curtsy as he bowed.
We then walked arm in arm up to stand before the Bishop of Canterbury.
The ceremony seemed to go by in a flash and be impossibly slow and drawn-out all at the same time. I was painfully aware of every set of eyes on my back as we stood there listening to the welcome and opening prayer.
My gaze wandered over the splendid cathedral draped in thousands of pink roses and orange blossoms. The surrounding air smelled spicy and sweet from the flowers and the lingering scent of frankincense and myrrh.
My breath seized when the bishop came to the declaration.
“First, I am required to ask anyone present who knows a reason why these persons may not lawfully marry, to declare it now.”
I could hear the mysterious woman’s screams from the time she’d accosted me on the street when I first started dating Richard echoing in my head.
Bitch. You think you can take him from me?
I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!
You don’t deserve him!
He’s mine!
As the silence stretched, I trembled. There was a low cough from somewhere behind us, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Once again defying protocol for my sake, Richard released my hand and placed a comforting arm around my back, pulling me in close to his strength. It was all I could do to not wrap myself around his middle and place my head on his chest just to he
ar the steady beat of his heart, which always calmed and reassured me.
Finally, the bishop continued. “The vows you are about to take are to be made in the presence of God, who is judge of all and knows all the secrets of our hearts…”
I pressed my lips together to stifle a small nervous giggle. The thought of God knowing all the dirty, kinky secrets of our hearts was frightful to contemplate.
The bishop turned to Richard. “Richard Payne the third, Duke of Winterbourne, will you take Elizabeth Adelaide Larkin to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”
My cheeks flamed as I remembered Richard’s darkly whispered words on this very spot the day before.
I, Richard Payne the third, Duke of Winterbourne and various other exalted titles of the realm, do hereby claim Elizabeth Adelaide Larkin as my own. She will love, honor, and obey me as her rightful lord and master, forsaking all others and remaining faithful in her duty to me in mind, body, and soul, for as long as she lives, or face the consequences of my wrath.
“I will,” came Richard’s response, his voice strong and determined, loud enough for everyone in attendance to hear.
The bishop turned to me. “Elizabeth Adelaide Larkin, will you take Richard Payne the third to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and protect him, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”
Turning my head, I looked up at Richard. The man who both terrified and fascinated me. I was about to become his, before God and the law. His. He was fond of claiming me as his own, but now it would become official. Irrevocably so. I didn’t have to be told there would never be an out for me. Richard would never even contemplate allowing me a divorce should I ever decide being with him was too much. My words today would seal my fate with his. Forever. No turning back.
His hand gave my side a slight squeeze.
“I will,” I squeaked out softly.
“I’m sorry. Please say that again,” said the bishop as he tilted his head to the side to hear me better.
A ripple of unease waved over the guests as everyone strained to hear my response.
Clearing my throat, I said only slightly more loudly, “I will.”
You could almost feel the collective relief among the guests at my response.
By my side, the corner of Richard’s mouth quirked up in what looked almost like a satisfied smirk.
The bishop continued. “Will you, the families and friends of Richard and Elizabeth, support and uphold them in their marriage now and in the years to come?”
The guests collectively responded, “We will.”
We then exchanged rings. My hands were trembling so hard I almost dropped the simple platinum band before I slipped it onto his finger. Richard then slipped a gorgeous infinity ring of blue sapphires on my finger.
The bishop joined our hands. “Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder.”
Richard swung his arm around, pulling me close. Wrapping a hand around my neck, he leaned down and claimed my mouth in a deeply passionate and possessive kiss that had half the guests gasping in shock and the other half clapping and cheering.
We were married.
Married!
Richard was now officially my husband.
My lord and master.
In that moment, the orchestra burst into a loud, rousing rendition of our recessional music, the ‘Crown Imperial’ by William Walton.
It’s why I didn’t hear the gunshot.
Chapter 22
Lizzie
Crimson blood splattered across my bodice and exposed neck.
Horrified, I stared wide-eyed at Richard’s shocked face.
My gaze followed his to the bullet wound in the center of his chest.
My mouth opened on a bloodcurdling scream as I watched Richard slowly sink to his knees.
“No!” I raged as I fell to my knees by his side.
Despite his bullet wound, Richard grabbed me and shoved me to the floor, putting his body protectively over mine, shielding me from any possible additional gunfire.
The entire cathedral erupted into panicked chaos.
Armed guards raced to surround the royal family as Richard’s own security force swarmed over us.
“Secure the perimeter!”
“Lock it down!”
“Get an ambulance.”
“The queen! The queen! Secure Her Majesty!”
Blind with fear, the guests scrambled and fought their way out of the narrow pews as everyone dashed for the exits.
In my fevered mind, Richard’s body on top of mine felt like dead weight.
He was dead.
I was sure of it.
It was all my fault. She had killed him because of me. My shoulders shook with sobs as he pressed me down against the icy marble floor.
“Shh… don’t cry, baby girl,” rasped Richard against my ear.
He grimaced when my shoulder connected with his wound as I turned around in his arms. Lifting my hands to his face, I wept, “Richard! Richard, please don’t leave me! I love you! Please don’t die! I need you!”
I could feel the sticky warmth of the blood from his chest wound seep into my dress and onto my skin. Where the hell was Harris? He was always by Richard’s side and now he got shot and his head of security was nowhere to be found!
Placing his hand on my face, the pad of his thumb caressed my cheek. “It will take more than a bullet to take me from you, my love.”
I put my hand over his and cradled it to my face. “I love you.”
Finally, Harris appeared, looking surprisingly calm considering his employer was lying on the floor of a church with a bullet wound in his chest.
“Your Grace, we’re ready.”
He helped Richard to his feet. Richard then reached down for me. Holding me close, we crouched behind a wall of his guards who held up bulletproof shields as they hustled us out a side door of the cathedral.
As we emerged into the sunshine, which felt odd and out of place considering the cataclysmic events of the last few moments, an ominous-looking black helicopter hovered over a small square of lawn that overlooked the Old Palace Yard.
The helicopter skids had barely touched the grass before Richard and I were hoisted inside. Harris joined us as several guards took a position on the outside, standing on the skids with guns drawn as they wrapped a belt around their waists and secured it to a hook on the side.
Although it felt like an eternity, it was mere minutes before the helicopter once more lifted off, taking us to the nearest hospital.
Wincing in pain, Richard reached around me and grabbed the seat belt before securing it over my lap. Leave it to this man to be worried about my safety at a time like this.
Reaching down, I tore a long strip of silk from the bottom of my dress and balled it up in my hand. Turning to him, I pressed the fabric against his wound.
My shoulders shook and my face crumpled with fear and agony as the fabric quickly became soaked with his blood.
“Oh, God, Richard!”
His strong hand closed reassuringly over mine, applying more pressure over the wound. “I refuse to die, my love. What is the saying? I can’t die because Satan is worried I’ll take over hell.”
“Stop! Just stop!” I cried, rejecting his attempt at teasing. “I can’t lose you!”
Richard pulled my head close. Placing a fierce kiss on my lips, he vowed, “I’ve already told you, little one. You’ll never be free of me. You’re mine, forever.”
The helicopter jostled us all as it slowed its speed and lost altitude. Looking out through the small window, I saw doctors and nurses scrambling across the helipad with a gurney and crash cart.
The moment the helicopter skids hit the tarmac, everyone sprang into action. Richard’s guards lifted him out of the helicopter and onto the gurney. An orderly started at a sprint as he pushed his gurney toward a pa
ir of double doors that led into the hospital. Nurses ran alongside, desperately grasping at the canvas straps to secure him down as several doctors started screaming out vital stats.
I struggled to keep up, my heavy skirts hampering me as I tripped over the yards and yards of bloodied silk.
They pushed the gurney into a massive cargo lift.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. We need to take it from here,” said a nurse. She held up a hand to push me back as she pressed the button for the lift doors to close.
As the metal doors slid closed, I thrust my arm into the gap. “Fuck you. I’m his wife and I’m not leaving his side!” I declared as I shoved my way onto the elevator and reached for Richard’s hand.
He chuckled weakly. “It really is a shame to waste all this spitfire energy on something like this.” He gave me a suggestive wink.
My cheeks flamed scarlet, not only from my own uncharacteristic outburst and defiance of authority but also from Richard’s highly inappropriate innuendo.
The doctors and nurses in the lift exchanged amused looks.
The doors opened onto a scene of controlled chaos.
There was another older nurse, who addressed the doctors. “Operating room three is prepared. Do we have a blood type?”
“Yes, type O positive,” offered another nurse as she helped push the gurney out of the lift.
“His BP is falling. Let’s move it, people!”
“I need X-rays, stat! We need to find this bullet!”
“Someone page Doctor Graham.”
“Let’s go, people! Let’s go!”
I lost my grip on Richard’s hand as they shoved me aside.
“This time you really need to stay,” called out a nurse over her shoulder as she ran alongside the gurney.
Without even looking at her, I nodded that I understood as I watched the man I loved, my husband, disappear through a pair of doors as they wheeled him into surgery.
As if in a daze, I slowly sank down onto my knees, buried my face in my skirts and burst into tears.
The hours ticked by with no word.
I couldn’t sit. All I could do was pace back and forth within the small confines of the private lounge they had given us to wait out Richard’s surgery.