She sighed, and kissed him. “Even though that was decades ago, you’re right. That I wouldn’t tolerate. When do you want to leave?”
“This weekend. Just for three or four days.”
She nodded without hesitation. “I’ll have Cataline arrange it.”
“I’ll be back in time for the sailing school’s commercial taping, and we can get to work on arranging the wedding.”
“Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
Flynn lifted her hands to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. “I’ll be quick. I want to marry you as soon as possible. Big or not. So long as I can officially call you mine.”
Alanna cupped his face, holding him like the Holy Grail. “That’s been true since the first time you kissed me all those months ago. On the dock in Palau. Do you remember?”
“I’d never forget.” He grinned.
Of course he remembers.
The man had a memory like his American Fort Knox.
“That moment was like kissing an angel. A seductive, hypnotizing angel.” She breathed in his husky scent.
“My thoughts at the time were hardly angelic.”
“Lucky me.” She kissed him, slowly turning from sweet, to sensual, to outright devouring each other.
By the time he got back, she’d have the leak uncovered and taken care of, and set a date for both the private and public ceremonies.
Nothing said she had to keep her hands off him until then.
What expert hands her man had.
Chapter SIX
Gemma
She breathed in the exotic fragrance of the wild flowers around the lake estate, a surprisingly pleasant blend with her morning coffee.
Solana certainly loved their gardens. Or at least the royal family did. Every property they owned had a lavish one, according to Stefano.
Gemma had seen three of them; the royal palace, the mountain getaway, and this lake estate. The humid air wasn’t uncomfortable due to the constant breeze, which carried the smell of the sea with it through the whole island, even well into the mountains.
The lake estate was her favorite. Not that she didn’t enjoy the palace. The staff was more than accommodating, and she could spend hours studying the beautiful paintings on the ceiling, let alone the artwork throughout the hallways.
This place gracing her with peace was more secluded, a cozier feel with a view that reminded her a little of the tank back at the ranch.
Because of this place, she felt serenity. Something she’d never expected to feel with her harrowing childhood.
And the loss of Reyna.
Although here, Gemma didn’t feel her guardian’s loss so much. It was as though the sweet woman breathed with every wind gust here, and hugged her with every ray of sunshine.
Real peace.
Which she almost couldn’t trust. She’d known years of chaos, neglect, and abandonment. This thing called peace and stability always seemed like a fantasy. Because the bottom always dropped out of her brief reposes of happiness.
It always did.
This repose had lasted the longest so far.
This love with André.
Her fingers curled around the hot mug, and her engagement ring clinked against the ceramic. A circle of amepphire stones circled around a diamond the size of her pinkie nail, wrapping the center stone into a rose bloom.
The amepphire gems weren’t found anywhere on Earth than Solana, the country’s main export and primary source of wealth. Gemma didn’t care about any of that. The stones’ colors were so unique, the same ice blue color as her eyes, with soft tinges of violet.
She’d finally mustered the courage to admit she loved him, and he’d slid this beauty on her finger.
No regrets ever since.
André made sure she didn’t.
It was still hard to imagine herself married. She’d never expected to live this long, let alone have the temperament for that kind of long-term commitment.
Somehow, her prince made it seem easy. Natural.
“I love watching you look at that thing.”
Gemma turned in her rattan chair.
The man of her dreams grinned back. So damn sexy.
Every time she looked at him, he melted her. Made her feel like she was home.
André carried his own coffee mug.
“It’s growing on me.”
He sat at the foot of the rattan lounger, and draped her feet over his knees. “I’m glad.”
She shook her head on a sigh, just staring at him.
“What?”
“Still can’t believe you want this. Want me.”
His lips thinned, only to press them against hers in a swift, soft kiss. His tongue traced the seam, leaving her hotter than her coffee.
When he pulled back, light danced in his eyes. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
She smirked. “Your sister wants a huge reception, and it’s putting my stomach in knots every time I think about all those people staring at me. In front of a huge altar with that Archbishop. The same one who crowned your sister. Hard to top that.”
He chuckled. “That would tend to inflate someone’s head, crowning a sovereign. But bottom line, our marriage is just you and me. No one else in that big room exists.”
Gemma took in a shaky breath. If only she could just kiss her vows, she’d much prefer that kind of oath. So much easier. Especially with his mouth receiving them.
André tilted his head, a curious smile on his wickedly handsome face.
“What?”
“I have an idea.”
Her skin hummed. His ideas were always insanely delicious. “I’m all ears.”
“Do you trust me?”
She couldn’t hold back her devilish smile. “About as far as I can ride you.”
His cheeks pinked, and she melted again.
Making her prince blush was one of her guilty pleasures. Because she could ride him into oblivion, and back.
“Good. Because this is exactly what we need.”
André
He couldn’t stop fidgeting by the lake’s edge. André wore his tux and tie surrounded by lit candles and torches forming a semicircle around him and Stefano, and the priest.
The only sound was the flickering flames, and the rippling water behind him. A cool breeze blew, but the sand beneath his bare feet was warm.
He’d first fallen in love with Gemma by the water, on the Texas ranch she loved. Made sense to make their joining official by the water, as well.
His heart thundered hard.
What if she panics? What if she takes one look at me beside a priest, and she runs?
The local clergyman’s smile didn’t calm him.
What if this isn’t enough? What if I’m not enough?
“Calmate.” Stefano’s soft voice beside him helped. “When she sees you, everything will work. That’s the way it is between you two.”
“If she sees me. What if she ran out that front door, and leaves me standing here?”
Stefano chuckled. “You know her better than that.”
The door from above the stone steps opened, the glass shimmering against the moonlight reflection. It closed again, and Gemma moved to the top of the steps.
André’s heart stuttered.
White silk draped her form, leaving her shoulders bare, and gathered at her waist. A thin layer of lace crisscrossed her front, and hung from her frame, skimming her knees.
But what stole his breath was her nervous smile.
So glorious, her eyes alight like the water behind him. A few white asters graced her blonde hair, and simple diamond earrings on those soft lobes.
Her bare feet were adorable when she descended the steps, her hand holding the stone railing, and her other clutching a single white rose.
As soon as he’d told her his idea earlier that morning, he’d raced into town and picked out five different white dresses, various styles, and discreetly arranged for a hair stylist to come to the estate.
Everything else had been handled by Stefano with a few phone calls. Including the priest at the local chapel.
He’d had no idea which dress she’d choose, but he’d wanted to give her options.
She’d unknowingly chosen his favorite.
The second Gemma’s feet touched the sand, her smile widened. Her gaze focused solely on him.
Everything else around him faded away, and all he could see was her. Her beauty, her smile, her magnetism.
I cannot wait to marry this woman.
Stefano was right.
The second he saw her, everything in his frazzled heart fit together, and cleared the path in front of him.
She reached his side, and put her hand on his chest. Over his heart. “You ready for this?”
“I’ve been ready.” He covered her palm.
Gemma grinned again, and put the white rose in his tux pocket.
The priest began his opening prayer, his dulcet voice warm and soothing.
Their stares never wandered.
His heart nearly jumped with joy when the clergyman finally reached the vows. He swallowed, hoping his voice wouldn’t break as he said the words. “I, André Miguel Peralta Domingo, take you, Gemma Hope Westfall, to be my wife. To have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish you until death do us part. I give myself to you wholly, as an equal and a mirror to my true self. This I pledge, in the eyes of God.”
Her smile grew with every sentence, and her eyes misted, tears threatening to fall. For once, they were happy tears.
If he had anything to say about it, she’d never cry a single sad tear ever again.
The priest turned to Gemma.
Her chest rose and fell fast, and she cleared her throat. On her first breath, a single tear finally fell. “I, Gemma Hope Westfall, take you, André Miguel Peralta Domingo, to be my husband.” Her voice shook on the last word, and she took another breath, pure joy radiating in her eyes. “To have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and health, to love and cherish you until death do us part.” She winked. “Which I think we’ve already proven.”
He chuckled, his heart nearly exploding as she continued with the rest of the words he wanted to hear most.
“I give myself to you wholly, as an equal and a mirror to my true self. This I pledge, in the eyes of God.”
André wiped away the moisture that’d clung to her cheek. Then surged forward to seal their vows with a kiss.
Stefano snickered behind them, as the priest cleared his throat.
“Not yet. The rings first.”
He tried to pull back, but Gemma cupped his face and wouldn’t let go, searing another kiss to his lips.
The priest cleared his throat three more times before they finally released each other.
Damn, that good-and-kissed flush on her face made him stir with wanting.
“The rings,” the priest repeated.
André pulled the band from his pocket.
Gemma looked to Stefano, who smiled and handed her his band.
She held his hand, and slipped on the platinum band, simple and elegant. On a deep breath, she pledged, “With this ring, I thee wed.”
André repeated the same gesture, another simple platinum band, only hers had a single amepphire chip in the center.
He’d had her rings ready for months. With a deep gaze into those beautiful blue eyes, he gave his oath, “With this ring, I thee finally wed.”
She laughed.
The rest of the night was a blissful haze.
Between their constant kisses, champagne toasts with Stefano, and unending finger foods, André walked among the clouds, his love never more pure and complete.
Until they retreated to their suite of rooms. Because his displays of love turned less than pure. More primal, erotic, and consuming.
The first round was rushed and crazed. In the throes of their next round, as they were joined together as one soul in every way, she uttered the most beautiful words he’d ever heard.
“I love you, my husband. My prince. My André.”
His heart soared. André kissed her, and several thrusts later, pressed his forehead to hers. “And I you, my wife…forever and always.”
Chapter SEVEN
Alanna
She breathed a sigh of relief as André and Gemma walked through the palace doors.
Finally, they could get to the bottom of this leak, and start wedding preparations.
Their happy glow made Alanna smile, wishing Flynn would return sooner rather than later from his trip to visit his parents in Brisbane.
However, the lovers’ glow lasted longer than usual. They never released their hands all the way up to the sitting room, where they had only one hour to settle critical details.
Something was up.
Finally, after they were all alone together in the sitting room, she crossed her ankles and started on the list in her tablet.
First, the leak.
Gemma immediately lost her glowing smile. “I’ll handle that one.”
Alanna paused. “How?”
Her brother nodded. “She’ll speak with the leaker directly. We’ll let you know what move comes next.”
Alanna tilted her head. “I think it’s more serious than that. This is a matter of—”
“Do you trust me?” André asked, his expression determined.
“Of course.”
“Do you trust Gemma?”
She nodded to her future sister-in-law. “With my life.”
“Then trust us. You have enough on your plate. We’ll handle this one.” He sat composed and calm, but a storm brewed within Gemma from her tightened knuckles and annoyed expression.
“You have my word,” the blonde beauty added.
Alanna swallowed, and finally nodded. “Very well.” She moved to the next item. “Wedding plans. You know Flynn and I just announced our engagement. But since you were technically engaged before us, your nuptials come first. We were thinking December timeframe, perhaps the second Saturday. What are your thoughts?”
Gemma’s cheeks pinked and she pressed her lips together.
André squeezed her hand tighter, his gaze on the carpet.
Alanna rolled her eyes.
They were clearly embarrassed. She loved how in love her brother was with Gemma, and clearly they’d just had a rigorous tryst at the lake estate, and no doubt in the limousine on the way home. But they were all adults. “No need to be shy around me. I’ve already consulted with the Solanian Cathedral, and they’ve reserved that weekend for us, along with the full week to prep. The Archbishop will be back from his visit to the Vatican by then, and that gives us plenty of time to design and fit Gemma’s gown.”
“Um, Alanna, we have some—” Gemma started.
“I know you’re not one to be fussed over for gowns and jewels, but it is your wedding. I think an exception can be made for this. I cannot wait to see you in—”
“Alanna,” André said her name sharply.
“What?”
“We’re already married,” he simply said, on a deep sigh with a boyish smile.
She stared. Had she heard him right?
Alanna blinked. A long few seconds passed before the words started to hold meaning.
“Alanna?” her brother nudged.
“Excuse me?” She failed to hide the admonishing tone she’d inherited from her father. Glanced at their joined hands.
They both wore a platinum band on their left right fingers.
A buzzing filled her mind, and words stuck in the back of her throat.
“We were married at the lake estate,” he said.
“When?” she croaked out.
“Yesterday,” André replied nonchalantly.
A deep anger churned with a vicious hurt, low in her gut. Tears pricked the back of Alanna’s eyes, and she blinked them away. She hated that she sometimes cried when intensely angry. Opening her mouth to let out h
er protest resulted in her just bobbing her mouth open, because none of the words would get past her tonsils.
“I know it was sudden,” Gemma said, her expression serious. “We didn’t go up there with the plan to wed behind your back. It was more of a spontaneous decision. But the idea of a big wedding in front of all those people was terrifying. It’s been giving me anxiety for months.”
“Spontaneous? You think marriage is something one does on a whim?” Alanna kept her voice low. If she released her full anger, her screaming would be overheard throughout the palace. “Who else knows?”
“Just us, Stefano, and the priest. And you, of course.” André tightened his grip on Gemma’s hand.
“How could you do that to me?” She targeted her piercing stare on her brother.
The thoughtless, obtuse fool of a man.
“This wasn’t about you,” he replied, keeping his own voice low in return. A calming mechanism he often used to diffuse tense situations.
Both of them had become well experienced in that the last year, with their country under attack and defense negotiations almost as vicious as the cartel bombings.
“This marriage is between her and me. Both of us wanted something private.”
“Private is one thing. Excluding me is quite another.” She swallowed back a break in her voice.
Her brother pressed his lips together. “We didn’t exclude you. And it’s not like we were covert. You already gave your royal permission after our engagement was announced. We didn’t break protocol.”
“Royal protocol be damned!” Alanna tossed her tablet on the couch, and gripped the edge of the cream cushion. “You’re the only family I have, André. I wanted to stand beside you as you took such a major step. How could you take that away from me? My only remaining brother—as you pledge your life to your wife. Don’t you know how much that moment means to me as your sister?”
His eyes widened, and he shook his head, speechless.
Gemma watched her carefully, her expression mournful.
“Gemma,” Alanna continued. “You know I love you, and I already consider you my sister. But dammit!” She directed her vicious glare back on André. More tears threatened to fall. “This hurts! That you would exclude me!”
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