“He won’t forget this,” Cronala breathed. “You truly are a queen!”
The ringing at the door sent Sarra’s heart on a faster beat.
The caller was Darius, all garbed in black finery. “Is she ready?” he asked, fretfully.
Cronala pointed over her shoulder at the bride. “She sure is.”
Seeing her great beauty, he fell into a bow and then he smiled. “We must hurry. Raine is becoming impatient. He’s starting to growl.”
Cronala stayed behind to dress in more suitable attire, and Sarra took her escort’s arm and walked with him down the sunlit hall until they reached the room adjoining the chapel. Raine was there, speaking with a man of the cloth. The instant she saw him, she grew weak.
She doubted that he could be more handsome. He wore a formal three-piece suit, the ivory hue honest upon his majestic frame. His hair was tied back at the nape, accenting the grandeur of his profile. Suddenly, he turned. She was taken aback by the power of his appreciation while he raked her from head to toe, his gaze becoming so brilliant and sparkling that, for an instant, the green appeared white.
It was the preacher’s gasp that brought her back to reality. The middle-aged, average-built man, wearing his white and gold ceremonial vestments, came up to her with astonishment in his gray eyes. He took her hand and bent low in respect.
“Your Royal Highness!” he uttered. “I cannot believe that you are actually here!”
The Reverend Joel Richmond feared that he had come into the presence of an angel. As Princess Sarra greeted him with a bright smile, he stepped back, stricken by her grace. He glanced at the bridegroom’s beaming visage. His nephew had called ahead to make preparations for the wedding, but had failed to tell him who the bride was until arriving at the church. His brother-in-law’s son had always been into mischief—quite an independent boy—but now that he was a man, waywardness had become criminal.
Less than an hour ago Joel had learned that his own kin was one of the Revolutionaries, the ruthless clan who had kidnapped the princess. After the reasons were explained—about the rainbow mines and the destruction of Tyler Oaks—he understood. There always had been something sinister and questionable about his relatives’ deaths, but the answers were overwhelming to his God-fearing mien. But, the greatest shock of all was that his nephew wanted to join with the royal in holy matrimony—they had fallen in love! This was highly irregular! Wasn’t there some kind of law that would forbid it? Still, he could see—from the way that they were looking at each other—that there was great affection between them.
Joel felt it in his heart that he should marry them; God had brought this pair together. However, it was the worldly dangers that worried him. The groom had insisted that the king’s wrath wouldn’t fall upon his parish, but Joel knew that there was no guarantee in that. Nevertheless, whatever the repercussions of this union, he would comply—the man was, after all, family.
He cleared his throat loudly to stop the couple’s admiration for each other and get back to the business at hand. “So ... Raine ... how shall we do this? You’ve had no rehearsal.”
“We want it simple,” he replied. “Just marry us.”
Everything became like a blur to Sarra. The clergyman left for his duties and Raine went to join him—but not before exhilarating her with a hasty kiss. Cronala arrived, looking beautiful in her pink satin gown. She gave to her a bridal bouquet, hugged her, and went to the altar as the bridesmaid. Sarra clutched the white roses to her breast, her heart beginning to race. She peeked into the small chapel where there was a fair, blue-eyed middle-aged lady—dressed smartly in green—who seemed to know Raine rather well. The motherly woman fussed about him until the music, a stately tune, began. Then she sat on a pew, the only audience of this event.
Sarra took a deep breath as Darius looped her arm in his, beginning her walk down the aisle. Soon she was before the altar with the groom at her side. The minister broke the silence, commencing with the rite of matrimony, his gentle voice speaking about the Lord, and caring, and destiny. She concentrated on remembering that this was all a hoax. It felt real. She blinked to keep her emotion away. And then came the vows.
“Do you, Raine ... umm ...” the pastor faltered.
“Nicks,” he rescued smoothly.
“—Raine Nicks, take the princess—No, ummm ... Sarra Anna? ... Shantay to be your lawful wedded wife? To love, honor, and cherish so long as you both shall live?”
Raine was tall and confident. “I do.”
“And do you, Sarra, take Raine—”
The drumming in her ears drowned out his voice. Before, when she had dreamt up this scheme, she believed that she could say the words with no trouble. Standing here now, she was guilty of lying to God. And yet, this seemed like such a natural place to be with Raine. But, someday the oath—the ultimate declaration of endless love—must be broken. She comforted herself with the revelation that her heartbreak would be for forever.
Everyone awaited her answer.
“I do,” she promised softly.
Raine helped her out of her gloves and gave them to the bridesmaid. Sarra bit her lip when he grasped her cold hand, took a ring from Darius, and glided the golden band onto her finger.
His rich voice caressed her. “This is a symbol of my devotion, my love.” Then, under his breath he muttered, “And I hope it stays here always.”
Sarra trembled while she took his ring and slid the golden band into place on his hand. “This is a symbol of my devotion, my love.” Then, she whispered—although she wondered why— “It will be.”
They turned forward to receive the blessing of the cross.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
He drew her into his arms and bestowed such ardor upon her that it set her senses reeling.
The ceremony was over. The four witnesses gathered around them, hearty with their congratulations. Dizzy, Sarra leaned up against her husband.
“Ahhh, Your Royal Highness!” the lady cried, falling into a curtsy. “It is so incredible! Her Royal Highness, married to my nephew!”
Sarra was surprised when the pastor put his arm around the woman.
Joel said, “Miracles never cease, do they Clara?”
“Never!” Clara agreed, knowing that she’d never forget this day. “But, she should have had a grand wedding, Joel. What will the king say about all this? Nic—”
Joel had the sudden urge to kiss his wife, and Sarra glanced at Raine suspiciously. Why didn’t he tell her that he was related to the minister? The irony of it all—him, kin to a man of God!
“We hadn’t the time to plan, Aunt Clara,” Raine said. “The idea of marriage struck us rather suddenly.”
Clara recovered from her husband’s affections. “Youth, today. Always in a big hurry.” A look of panic crossed her blue eyes, her fair complexion. “Please, forgive me my manners, Your Royal Highness! But it isn’t every day that one is in the royal presence.”
“Please—both of you—just call me ‘Sarra’,” she offered. After all, they were her new relations and she did like the couple.
Ahh, Princess Sarra!” Clara exclaimed. “You are so lovely! I’ve never seen anyone with such a glow! We were all so worried about you—all of Adriel! Abducted by awful men—and it is my nephew who rescued you!” she said, proudly.
“Um, Clara,” Joel dissuaded, regretting that he hadn’t had the time to tell her the entire story. “I believe that the newlyweds would rather think of more pleasant things.”
Clara bit her bottom lip. “Forgive me.”
Raine smiled. “You always need to be forgiven, Aunt Clara,” he teased, and then became serious. “Uncle, we should finish up with the papers, now. We have a long ride ahead.”
Joel nodded and began leading the group from the chapel.
Clara was dismayed. “You’re not leaving now, are you? You can’t! I haven’t seen you for ages, and I’m sure not going to give up the opportunity to chat with your
new wife! You must stay with us, at least for the night. I insist!”
Sarra was discovering that Clara could be very charming, and guessed that it must run in the family. The gregarious woman convinced Raine that he would be a brute to make his royal wife sit in a boring auto on her wedding night. Sarra didn’t protest, for she didn’t relish the idea, either.
As Joel laid out the marriage certificate on the vestry’s desk, Sarra found that he wanted her signature first. Since her title didn’t matter when she had spoken her humble vows before God, it wouldn’t matter here. She signed it simply: ‘Sarra Anna Shantay’.
Darius and Cronala marked themselves as witnesses, and when Raine took his turn, she strained to see. He moved in line of her view and all she saw was his back. He gave the legal document to the pastor, and that was that. She understood that it wouldn’t be wise to present this to the king as evidence, as of yet. Still, she promised herself that she would call up the certificate someday if he continued to be so boorish about guarding his real name.
It was a short distance from the church to the Richmond Estate. Their home was a lovely stretch of land, abundant with flowers and trees, the quaint little cottage lost in the wilderness, a cozy haven for servants of God. Sarra smiled as she stepped out from the vehicle, taking in all the picturesque scenery. But, the mistress of the house seemed embarrassed by its simplicity.
“I know this isn’t what you’re accustomed to, Your Royal Highness. But we’re common folk.”
Plainly, the lady didn’t know what she had been through. “I’m Sarra. And don’t apologize. It’s beautiful!”
“It’s home,” Clara sighed, and then gasped when seeing the hem of the regal gown dragging in the dirt. She was flustered, unable to remember her nephew’s alias, and finally she just pointed at him. “You! Help her with her dress!”
Raine complied, sweeping the princess off her feet and into the cradle of his arms.
“Darius!” Clara snapped. “Take the women’s things!”
He was rather sheepish while he helped Cronala with the bags.
The lady frowned, thrusting her hands on her thin hips. “Goodness! Whatever happened to chivalry?”
Joel jested, “It will be alive and well as long as you’re around, dear wife.”
Later that evening, after the three couples dined a cheerful seven-course meal, Sarra prepared for her wedding night. Cronala had planned ahead, guessing that they might not return to the suite, and had brought along lingerie for the bride. The garment was similar to the notorious black one except that it was ivory in color and longer in length. While being carefully aided into the fragile mesh, Sarra fidgeted, wondering why she was so nervous.
Her friend’s dark face had a mischievous expression. “Raine couldn’t stop staring at you all day. You’ll drive him mad in this! There, finished. Go show him who the real prisoner is.”
After the woman left, Sarra stayed in the bath, stalling. She tried to sort out her emotions, to find what was plaguing her, but it was a useless attempt. She wandered out into the homey guest room and saw Raine. He wore a long ebony dressing robe, gazing out on the ending of the spectacular sunset. Catching sight of her, his eyes brightened, glowing upon her. He doffed his robe while moving to the bed. He slid between the sheets and held out his hand invitingly.
She went to the window instead, watching the darkening array.
Raine sighed. “I hope that you don’t plan to torture me like before when you wore such lingerie,” he said huskily. “I couldn’t survive it again. Come to me, wife.”
Sarra was in a gentler mood hearing her new title. Their simple, unadorned vows had bound them together, and she loved the concept but feared growing accustomed to it. He wasn’t truly hers. She rolled the golden ring around on her finger, marveling of its feel.
“Whom did I marry?” she asked quietly.
“How soon you forget.”
“I’m serious. Who?”
He sighed. “It’s safer for you not to know.”
“Why?”
“Other lives might be threatened. Please, Sarra. Let’s not talk about this, tonight. I feared that we’d never escape my aunt, with the way she chatters. We’re alone, now. Come to me.”
Raine’s breath came faster just by looking at her. She was a vision, her glossy golden hair glimmering about her womanly curves, the sheer white robe teasing him with a hint of what was beneath. She turned, her dark-blue eyes shining softly like the twilight behind her.
Seeing that she was troubled, he went to her, swooped her up, and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and passionately he kissed her, scattering her worries.
Sarra yielded to his ardent seduction. He seemed at peace with his ring, as if he accepted it as a part of him. Oddly, she felt bashful, like she was an innocent. He treated her this way, wooing her, patiently sliding her robe off, tenderly touching her everywhere until she was flushed like flame. Only then did he begin his calculated destruction, ruthlessly tearing the lower half of the lingerie and taking her to the heights ... carefully freeing her breasts and making her soar again. She was weak and sultry beneath him when she was completely bare, when he savored her anew with his hands and lips, his spirit.
How could something this true be such a lie? The question echoed silently in her head as she wrapped her arms around him, lost in the tumultuous sensations, the languorous ecstasy that was even better than before.
Chapter 22
Raine knew for certain that his wife was the most headstrong woman he’d ever know. They had left the Richmond Estate in the morning and had arrived back at the suite, at his trusted maternal Aunt Glenna’s vacation home, in the late afternoon. Darius and Cronala had left for the Revolutionary Headquarters, leaving them alone. Just a short time ago, Sarra had told him about her plans and she was adamant. She wanted to return to Queen’s Palace. Tomorrow. Alone.
He took his glare off the garden beyond the window and turned. She was in a chair with her hands folded in her lap, lovely as ever in her white and black dress. He tried to put disapproval into his eyes, but knew that she saw the ever-present praise. “So you want to go home tomorrow. And what—leave our honeymoon?” he asked sarcastically.
Sarra considered his tall masculinity, his handsome face that was sober in his indignation. Leaving him was the last thing that she wanted to do, but it had best be done sooner rather than later. “I don’t want to,” she said softly. “But I must.”
“Why?” he asked tightly.
She rose and began to pace. “It’s strange,” she said. “I dread going home, but I need to get it over with. I miss my father and my aunt—they must be worried sick! I have so much to tell them! And, I must set the sovereignty straight. I don’t know—maybe I’m feeling the brunt of my royal responsibilities.”
Raine tore his gaze off the gentle swing of her hips. “Can’t you wait?”
“For what?” Sarra bit her lip to keep from retorting, ‘Wait until you’ve torn my heart to shreds?’
“My men are working to fix the self-destruct mechanisms on the M-5s. We’ll soon have enough to take action, if need be.”
“Action!” she cried. “And just what would you do? Attack the mines? Storm the palace? How many people do you want to kill?”
Sarra regretted her flippancy when the resentment settled in on his face.
“It is true that my ransom scheme has not gone as planned,” he said, with a glower. “Every move I’ve made, I’ve met a brick wall. Someone in the very midst of the Revolutionaries seems intent that I do not succeed. And above all that, the monarchy is a little too careless in dealing with rebel threats. Don’t they want their princess back? Is she immortal? They have given us deadly guns. They won’t cooperate about the rainbow mines. What would happen if I set you free? If you go to your father and he is involved ...”
He stalked near. “I will make it very clear. When I set a goal, I will not rest until it is done, even if it means my death!”
Sarra held her groun
d, refusing to shrink away from his intimidating stance. “How many times do I have to tell you? He loves me! My father would do anything to have me returned safely! Just let me prove it to you. Let me go to him and explain—isn’t that what our marriage is all about?”
“I didn’t think you planned to go alone!” he snarled.
She moved a safe distance away. “But, how else? It would be too dangerous for you. The Royal Guard might not understand, at first. I’ll tell my father and then you’d come to the palace as a safe and pardoned man.”
“No, woman. I’m going with you. You need protection.”
“When I’m on the Royal Estate, no one can harm me.”
“That’s a little naive,” he scolded.
“I’ve lived there for eighteen years! Whoever these evil men are, they wouldn’t dare touch me. I could have security on them so fast that it would send their heads spinning!”
“If you’re so worried about me, then why can’t you call your guards off me just as fast?”
“Don’t you see? When the princess royal returns home, the word will spread quick as lightning around Adriel. If you were there by my side—like an ally—it would bring many false conclusions. Besides, I will need some time alone with my father, to tell him the news ... gently.”
Raine privately agreed. She was simply being sensible. Even so, he didn’t feel right about it. Something nagged at the corners of his mind, like an omen he couldn’t quite fathom. He sensed that she was different somehow—as if she were concealing a secret.
He concluded that it was his own dread that was working against him. Nevertheless ... “I can’t just let you go.”
“You must—Ohhhh! Can’t you trust me at all?”
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