by Frankie Love
I’m getting married to a stranger. Right now.
Am I ready for this? To be his?
Suddenly I’m scared.
I blink once, twice, fighting the tears that are threatening to surface. He takes my hand in his and slips a simple gold band over my ring finger.
This is really, really happening.
I do feel slightly disappointed that I’m not getting a royal wedding, but I can’t deny that something passes between Garrick and me when we exchange rings, and that’s more important to me than some fancy show.
I’m forced to squeeze my legs together, because with just the touch of his hand, I’m already imagining his body possessing mine.
And so, as we exchange rings, I focus on that simple truth. That his eyes are on mine, and that he’s looking at me as if he wants to devour me.
“You may now kiss your bride,” the priest announces.
Garrick doesn’t hesitate. He leans down, his palm wrapping around the base of my neck, tilting my chin up ever so slightly with his thumb. We lock eyes, and the room stills. The fluttering in my stomach and the fear and the resounding worry that Dahlia was absolutely right about him—they all disappear.
Garrick, my husband, kisses me.
He kisses me, and time stops.
His lips are unexpectedly warm, and the calluses on his hand rub against the soft skin of my neck. I hear a moan, and to my horror I realize that moan is coming from me.
Garrick’s tongue pushes past my lips and I open my mouth ever so slightly, granting him access to a part he wants to take.
I sink into the kiss, knowing his parents are watching and a priest is watching. He doesn’t seem to care, so neither do I.
Then, just as suddenly, he pulls away from me, blinks.
I press my hands to my heart, catching my breath, because I’ve never been kissed in my life, and I certainly never imagined it could be like that.
Garrick’s jaw tenses as he looks down at me, as if he’s considering me as his wife.
The priest smiles. “I now present to you the Prince and Princess of Alpinweiss.”
I look around the chapel. The queen is blotting her eyes with a tissue, and the king is beaming proudly with a smile across his face; everyone seems so happy.
I hear his parents mutter “thank God” and “it’s about time,” and I realize it isn’t so much happiness on their faces as relief.
Except for Garrick. Because whatever sliver of romance passed between us when we kissed is long gone. Now he coughs into his elbow, nods to his parents.
“We’ll be off then,” he tells them.
“Oh, Garrick,” his mother says, “wait a moment. Let us bring you back to the castle and feed you some supper. I know you insisted that no one know about the wedding, but … well, the truth is, we did tell a few people. The cook prepared a lovely meal for you and Iris. And don’t hate me, Garrick, but we also sent notice around about your nuptials.”
“Sent notice?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow, and I have to admit, even though he seems disgruntled at his mother’s announcement, his raised eyebrow does make my heart do that fluttering thing again.
“I’m guessing a few hundred will join us for the reception,” she admits.
Garrick groans. “I made one request. One simple request. That we just get married in peace. I don’t want a show, and never asked for one.”
“Oh, Garrick,” the king says. “It’s not a show, it’s just a reception for our son and his wife. The dignitaries at court need to see a more genial side of you. You’re always so grumpy around them. A reception with a bit of publicity will show them your softer side. With Iris’s help.”
“I don’t give a shit about what those people think of me.”
I sigh, trying to redefine my surroundings.
So at first sight I assumed these people were simply assholes that didn’t want to celebrate our wedding. But now I realize it wasn’t about the King and Queen not wanting to make this a special day. It was about their son—my husband—not giving a rat’s ass about me being here.
I swallow my pride, however bitter it may be. Because it’s okay; I don’t need Garrick to like me instantly. I’m certain I can win him over soon enough.
Especially if the winning-over occurs at a party. I’ve been waiting my entire life for some real fun. Some royal fun.
Garrick looks me over, scowling. “What are you smiling about?”
I shrink into myself, instantly hating that his tone causes me to become smaller. I don’t do smaller. I do bigger-than-life. Insistently, I raise my chin, open my eyes wider, and pull back my shoulders. “I love a good party.”
“Are you kidding me with this?” he asks, not even addressing me with the question. He looks over at his mother and father.
“Don’t be rude, Garrick,” the king says sternly. “You agreed,”
“I agreed to a marriage. I didn’t agree to go on fucking parade.”
“Oh, fine,” the queen says. “Just go back to your cabin and pretend your parents don’t care about their only son and his wedding day. We’ll send the guests home.”
I swallow, realizing I’m witnessing a family feud.
“I’m not being rude,” Garrick says flatly. “I did my part. I’ll continue to do my part. I got married, because it’s what my family wanted. And I’ll give you an heir, because it’s my duty. But I’m not committing to anything more than that.”
Behind us, the priest coughs and says, “Well, son, you have committed to one more thing. You committed to Iris. She’s your wife.”
“Goddammit,” Garrick hollers, ticked off. “She’s my wife, and I’m taking her home.”
With that, he grabs my hand and leads me out of the chapel without another word.
6
The moment we’re outside the chapel, we see people waiting around, ready to gawk at us. I’m guessing the tourists got wind of whatever reception my mother was cooking up at the castle, and put two and two together.
Under my breath, I mutter, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Realizing that Iris has stopped in the center of the sidewalk, I know we need to get out of here, stat. The last thing I want is to get caught up in some press release. I wrap my arms around Iris, pulling her close to me, noticing the way her breasts press against my chest—and I admit, that forces me to pull her in even more tightly.
“We’re good here. Move along,” I call out, raising my free hand and waving at the people. More like, waving off the people.
“Is there a car for us somewhere?”
“We don’t have cars in the village. You can get yourself a car over the mountains, that’s fine, but we keep things old-school here.”
“Oh,” she says flatly. “We don’t drive cars in Elexia either. I mean, we have golf carts and people drive motorbikes, but no cars.”
I frown; I didn’t realize we’d find common ground so fast. Not that it’s a bad thing, but I’m just adjusting my understanding of where this woman is from. Maybe she’s used to having a less than privileged lifestyle.
As we walk down the street, the people surrounding us are respectful; since the announcement of my wedding was short notice, there aren’t too many people around. I’d stop and say hello if any of these people were the actual people of Alpinweiss, but the people here are obvious tourists, holding up their camera phones and trying to capture the newest royal couple. I lower my head, refusing to be a part of this charade.
Iris lifts her head confidently and scans the crowd. She smiles, waves. People stare openly at her, but scowl at me. Anyone who doesn’t live and work in the village thinks I’m an ass—mostly because I’ve never participated in their bullshit photo ops. I work, do my duty, lend a hand. But I won’t play the part that the media and paparazzi want.
“You don’t have to do that—wave at them. No one here needs a princess like you.”
“A princess like me?” Iris asks through a gritted-teeth smile. “I’m going to assume you mean that in the best way possible?”
“Oh, exactly. The best way possible.” I reach for the hem of her skirt and lift it up. “Just what I expected, not even wearing boots. Your feet are going to blister—not to mention freeze—in those sandals before we get to my door.”
“Get your hands off my dress.” She pushes my hand away and forces me to drop the hem of her skirt to the ground. It falls into the mud. “Oh,” she sighs, “Dahlia and I worked so hard on this, too.”
“You made your dress?” I come level with her, turning to face my bride. Now that we’ve traipsed through the square and are headed toward the road that leads to my cabin, I need to make some sort of amends before I carry her over the threshold.
“Yes, my sister and I made it, with our own two hands. I may be a princess, but I do know how to make do with what I have. Although, I was hoping I would be….” She doesn’t finish her sentence.
“Oh,” I grin. “You thought you were marrying up?”
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head in obvious disappointment. “Of course not. I married you—the reclusive jerk of a prince my sister warned me about,” she says through clenched teeth. “I don’t think I’m marrying up; I think I’m a fool.”
I don’t know how to play this. On one hand, this is a terrible idea. I’m dragging the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life through the muddy streets, toward a cabin I know she’s going to hate.
On the other hand, another part of me finds it thrilling to get her all riled up.
Still, I can’t deny the reality of the situation. I want to consummate this marriage, and pissing her off before we even get to bed is a terrible plan.
“You’re not a fool,” I tell her roughly. I want to put a sheen on this conversation but I’m not quite sure how to gloss it up.
“I am a fool,” she continues. “Do you have any idea how much I want to go to a party?” She presses a hand to my chest, forcing me to look at her. “Garrick,” she says. “I’ve wanted to go to a royal party my entire life. I’ve never been to a ball or a gala or a coming out party. I’ve never attended a royal court. My father would never have been able to afford any of that. My family is poor—so, sure, you know what? I did think I was marrying up. I thought I was marrying into a family that could take care of me, because my own father couldn’t. Yes, I wanted to dance on the day of my wedding. So sue me.”
“Calm down, woman. People will hear you.”
“I don’t care if they hear me,” Iris says. “I’m stuck in this country with a man who doesn’t care about me being here. And you know what the really sad thing is? I actually wanted to come here to marry you. Badly.”
“You wanted to do this?” I narrow my eyes, trying to get a better read on this woman. So far, I feel way over my head with her. She’s gorgeous, complicated, loud, and pissed. This is a terrible combination for my wedding night.
“I wanted to go anywhere that wasn’t Elexia. I wanted adventure, a challenge. I wanted a chance to live. I was dying in Elexia. There was nothing for me there, but ... apparently there’s nothing for me here either, is there, Garrick? Because the reception that’s being thrown for us isn’t even one we’ll attend. I came all this way for nothing.”
“You came for a dowry. A double dowry, if I’m not mistaken. So you do have a vested interest in this marriage, whether you like it or not.”
“Wow, way to sweet talk your woman. God, Garrick, do you think I really care about a dowry?”
“Oh, so you don’t give a shit about where you come from and don’t give a shit about being here? What do you care about?”
Iris steps away from me, crossing her arms. “Why are you being so mean?”
“It’s not personal.” I shrug. “What you see is what you get with me. I’m not playing games; I’m not going to pretend I wanted a wife. I’m not going to pretend that I want to go to some party at my parents’ place. I don’t do that shit.”
“Well, I’m not going to pretend either.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I don’t like her tone, but damn, when she gets all fired up, the way her chest rises and falls, the way her eyes burn with intensity, the way her cheeks flush—all I want to do is to make them flush a little bit more.
“I’m not going to pretend I want you to take me to bed tonight,” she says. “In fact, I won’t let you take me at all.”
“You’re playing hardball, Princess.” I take a step toward her, realizing I may be pushing her a little farther than she deserves.
“I’m not playing anything. I came here to be your wife, Garrick. I came here of my own free will, which apparently eight other princesses were not willing to do.”
She must see the surprised look on my face. But it isn’t for the reason she thinks. I’m the one who turned down those princesses, not the other way around.
I don’t respond, not needing to prove anything.
Shrugging, she says, “It’s on Wikipedia.”
“That’s neither here nor there. You want a prize for coming here and marrying me? I’ll give you a prize.”
“Good. That actually sounds fucking fantastic,” Iris barks. “I love prizes. Princes, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about.” She purses her lips, shaking her head as if she’s backed me into a corner.
As if she’s won.
And damn it, I think she has.
Because what I want, more than getting my way, is getting her in my bed.
“You want your prize?” I step toward her, close enough that I could kiss her. The energy surging between us is palpable. The fiery exchange instantly dies down and turns to something electric. I may not have fallen in love with this woman, but the lust surging between us is ready to ignite.
Iris nods, her eyes on me, a smile crossing her lips. It’s as if she realizes I’m giving her the best offer she’s had all day.
“What will I get in return for giving you this prize?” I ask.
“Depends on how good the prize is, husband.” Iris raises her eyes.
Damn, she’s trouble.
“Come on, woman. Let’s go to this shitty party.” I grab her hand and lead her back toward the chapel.
I’ll let her have her way. She wants to go to the castle, fine. I’ll take her, because more important than getting my way, is making sure I have my way … with her.
7
The moment we walk back into the chapel and see that Garrick’s parents haven’t yet left, my heart fills with happiness.
Garrick may be a gorgeous asshole, but he is also a prince who has disappointed the king and queen.
His parents are thrilled with me. His mother, Julia, wipes her eyes and then wraps her arms around me. “Oh, Iris, you are a gem. Whatever did you do to convince him?”
I hug her, blinking back the truth. I know what Garrick wants in exchange for taking me to the party.
And the truth is, it makes me feel better about what I want to happen. Of course I want this strong, confident, handsome-as-hell husband of mine to take my virginity, but I don’t want to admit that to him. Not after he was so condescending outside.
But this way, we both get what we want, without me having to admit how badly I want him as well.
This way I can have my wedding reception, and a wedding night.
“Garrick told me he wanted to make his wife happy,” I tell his parents, “so here we are.”
“Wonderful,” King VonTrap beams. “We have a carriage waiting for you, Princess.”
I turn to Garrick, hoping he’ll take the lead.
His jaw tenses; his eyes refuse to acknowledge anyone. However, he does offer me his elbow. I take it, because I have nothing else to hang onto right now, honestly. I’m counting on him to lead the way, in so many ways. With this party and with the wedding night.
I have no experience with either—but damn, I want to learn.
In the castle, there are about a hundred well-dressed dignitaries in the large hall, milling about with drinks and smiles. A string quartet in the corner fills the space wit
h soft music.
There are banquet tables filled with food, and a five-tiered wedding cake front and center. A dance floor and candle-filled chandeliers anchor the room. It looks like we’ve gone back in time, with staff in crisp uniforms—suspenders and knee socks—that are reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel.
The tropical sea breezes filling my bedroom, the dinners of mahi mahi tacos and the fresh fruit kabobs of home are a world away. Here there is dark beer in steins, and skewered sausages.
I don’t resist the differences. This is still a straight-up party, thrown for me and my husband.
Walking into the room, although the two of us are severely underdressed, I raise my hand and wave warmly, smiling at the people who stop their conversations and turn toward us.
A footman calls out a formal pronouncement: “Welcome husband and wife, Prince Garrick and Princess Iris.”
The room fills with applause, and we’re ushered around the ballroom to say hello to the invited guests of the King and Queen. No one seems very interested in Garrick, but they kiss my hand, introduce themselves—the Marquis of so and so, the Earl of whats-it-called and the Duke of blah-ti-blah. I’m too amped up to remember anything except that the room is spinning with my dreams come true.
Garrick, however, is less than thrilled—which is no surprise. Me? I must admit, my heart surges with each cheek-kiss I am granted.
I can do this. I can so do this.
For the first time in my life, I think I’ve actually found what I was looking for.
Except everything does seem a little too polished, a little too shining and perfect. Garrick’s words in his fight with his parents, about not wanting to be in a parade, ring true.
Right now, we’re being shown off. We’re a product of the palace. It isn’t anywhere near as fulfilling as I’ve imagined being in a royal court would feel, but they seem enchanted with my enthusiasm. I guess, compared to the scowling prince, that’s a nice reprieve.
Garrick leans over and whispers in my ear. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”
I frown, having only just gotten started. “Introduce me to your friends,” I tell him. Maybe I can’t win him over, but I can win over his buddies.