The Princess of the Wild
Page 28
She took in his confession with her elation, laying her fears to rest.
He began moving, pushing her on before him toward the beach with his body until she laughed at his silliness and freed herself from his hold. He caught her hand and kept her still while he reached into his hip pocket. He pulled out a pair of earrings—surprising her—for they were the earrings she had bartered at the sport shop.
“Now, these,” he said, scolding her. “No one else can wear.”
“How did you find these?” she asked.
“I noticed that you still had the necklace I gave you, but not the earrings. I searched every sport shop in Seascape and found that the investigators had them, with the help of the merchant where you bartered them for your camping gear, and that they were searching for your DNA on the visitors’ passes to see in which direction you went. But, I found you, first.”
He held a violet-blue gem up against her cheek, studying the shade of her eyes. “I worked hard to match them. I have a good eye, if I say so myself. These earrings go with this ...”
He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a black jeweler’s case. He opened it to reveal a splendid ring, the violet-blue gem set against a circle of shimmering crystals.
“Skye, you have no more excuses. You have the old, new, borrowed and blue. You have a man standing before you who will love you forever.”
He bent down on a knee and took a hard swallow. “Skye Aria Williams Hamilton,” he said, anxiously. “Now will you marry me?”
Skye let him stew a moment, watching the expressions of hope move cautiously around on his handsome face. When a look of panic came into his eyes, she had mercy.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Yes?” he echoed, as if he feared that he had heard wrong.
“Yes!” she cried, freeing her happiness. “Of course I’ll marry you!”
He sprang up to his feet and quickly placed the ring on her finger. She marveled of its perfect fit and how natural it felt on her hand before she was caught up in a twirl, him unable to contain his emotion while he lifted his wife-to-be up into the air, taking her on a spin.
He set her down and he kissed her, drawing her into his passion. She clung to him as he spread his fire within her ...
He drew away and grasped her dress at the hips, drawing it up and off her and tossing it away onto the sand. He took a moment to admire her beauty, her bare and delectable breasts, her slim waist, the soft contours of her hips and shapely thighs, his hot gaze moving all the way down to her toes. He returned to her face, brushing a tress of her hair away from her cheek—the red-gold billowing softly in the breeze—wanting to see her eyes, the violet-blue portals into her beautiful soul. The unfathomable lights smiled at him, wanting him, loving him ... He doffed his shirt and then his leggings, and he kissed her, taking her down with him to the sand ...
Nicholas understood now a monogamous passion, like the kind his father had for his mother. It was a joining of the spirits, an exhilarating and emotionally dangerous journey where nothing or no one else could compare. The pain was worth the pleasure, and he had no choice anyway, being so deeply intertwined. No more masks ... no more disguises ... He hadn’t been searching—or had he? But he had found it, the joy of his life.
He drew away, cherishing her contented sigh, and he whispered hoarsely in her ear. “I love you, Skye.”
She trembled from her emotion and whispered, “I love you, Nicholas.”
Their confessions drove them to new heights and sent them rollicking, rolling across the sand until Skye was the victor above him. She took a moment to savor her surroundings, the warm sun in the blue sky above her, the tranquil and endless sea, the land where her family would one day be raised, and the air that smelled of a hint of approaching storm clouds. His large hands came up to caress her breasts, his fingertips gently and deliberately twisting on the hard peaks, bringing out her wantonness until she rolled off him onto her back, urging him to her. He enjoyed her lustiness and wanted to make the moment last, and he took her slender hips into his hands, hoisting her thighs up over his shoulders, and he kissed her softness, flooding her with his fire, the waves and waves of torrid ecstasy.
As he came down to take her, overcome by his need of her, and he thrust himself within her, Skye wondered if all of this could truly be real before she became lost again, swept off into paradise.
***
The Royal Gardens’ flowers were in splendid form this day, the predominately blue and white and peach blooms open to the warm brilliance of the midday sun. Before the rose-filled gazebo, the guests waited in their white petal-adorned chairs, restless in their anticipation of the nuptials. The bride and groom had insisted on a secret, intimate outdoor ceremony with only the immediate family and friends. They would give the subjects the royal wedding the world expected, with all the pomp and fanfare, in a month, after they returned from their honeymoon on Beacon Hill—of all places. The wedding announcement, given yesterday, would also give the young and pining subjects’ hearts—male and female—the time to adjust to the fact that the two most fantasy-inspiring people on the planet were no longer available to their reality. It was fitting that they should be wed to each other ...
Skye heard the musicians change their tune to the slow and simple melody for her entrance, knowing that her walk was about to begin. She had no trepidation, only a clear insight into her path. She took her soon-to-be father-in-law’s strong arm, him standing in proxy for her father, and began her journey down the petal-splashed aisle ...
Nicholas’ blue-green eyes glowed in his admiration for her, him incredibly handsome in his sky-blue formal suit. Her long and flowing bridal gown was the same hue as his, the color signifying purity from ancient times. She wore a wreath of tiny lavender flowers on her brow, her red-gold hair left unbound, cascading freely down to her waist, and she carried a bouquet of lavender roses. The audience rose while she moved ...
The Menes family sported wide and jovial smiles. Celeste and Selina awaited her at the altar as her bridesmaids. Royce was beside his brother as his best man, ready to do the honor with the rings, the younger prince having grudgingly accepted their inevitable union, deciding that he wasn’t done with carousing the females of the world yet, anyway. When she reached the altar, the senior Nicholas gave her away, and she gave her bouquet to a smiling Celeste. Nicholas gently grasped her hand, filling her with his presence, and they turned to the serene face of the white-robed preacher, to receive the blessings of God.
They spoke their vows of their eternal love, bringing a muffled sob of poignancy from Queen Sarra who sat behind and beside them, next to her husband who consoled her with a pat on her hands. Royce did his duty in producing the rings—albeit, with a jesting show of disapproval, inciting the laughter of the crowd—and Nicholas easily slipped her band onto her finger, and she just as easily slipped his band onto his. And then the preacher said the words that would join them together for forever:
“You are now husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
Skye smiled up into Nicholas’ impish blue-green eyes.
“For sure,” he uttered empathically.
As he took her into a wholehearted, impassioned kiss, amidst all the applause and cheers, Skye was exalted to realize that—at last—she had found her home.
APPENDIX
I hope that you enjoyed The Princess of the Wild, Volume Two of The Royals of Adriel series. There’s more ...
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THE PRINCESS OF THE WILD
Thank you,
Lorelei Orion
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