Hester was glad of the veil—it gave her soft focus too. She could literally hide behind it.
She climbed the stone steps slowly as instructed, though mainly it was because the silk train of her dress was heavy. Then she saw Alek waiting at the end of the long aisle and was unable to tear her gaze from him. Every step drew her closer to him and revealed more detail of his appearance. He wore full royal regalia—gleaming gold trim, military medals and that scarlet sash of power across his chest and, yes, even one feather. He stood straight and strong and so serious, but as she finally drew alongside him she saw the smile in his eyes and a teasing twitch of his lips.
The ceremony was full of pomp just as he’d promised. There were trumpets, choirs, a cellist…but she barely noticed them. Nor did she really see the beautiful floral arrangements and the stunningly attired guests. He sucked all her attention.
It seemed to take for ever, yet passed in a flash. She was vitally aware of him breathing beside her, so close yet distant, and every moment watched by millions. She grew stupidly nervous after reciting her vows. Her mouth dried and she swallowed back her anxiety. Why had she shot down the idea of a practice kiss? They’d probably bump noses, or clash teeth or something even more awkward in front of the world. It was mortifying. And it would be replayed over and over, immortalised in memes on the Internet for ever. The ‘world’s worst kiss’.
Terrified, she looked at Alek. That knowing glint of good humour in his eyes grew and his lips curved enough to set the dimples free. She couldn’t hold back her own impish smile in response. This whole thing? It was ridiculous. And suddenly it was fun, this secret contract between them.
He bent nearer, so very slowly. Utterly still, she expected only a brief peck.
It was a gossamer brush of his lips over hers, so gentle that she wouldn’t have been sure it had happened if she hadn’t seen him. But he lingered and her eyes drifted shut as intimacy was unleashed in that lightest, purest of touches. She yearned to capture it—to stop time and bask in the warmth and connection from such slight pressure.
He pulled back and smiled again right into her eyes as she blinked and returned to the world. The roaring cheers of the crowd seeped through the stone walls and a ripple of audible pleasure ran through the guests present in the magnificent palace chapel. He drew her hand through his arm and escorted her down the long aisle. The noise of the applause boomed tenfold as the church door was opened for them to exit. They stood for a long moment on the top step, smiling at the scores and scores of people—the crowd stretched as far as she could see.
‘Hester.’
She heard his soft command and faced him. The wicked laughter in his eyes was for her alone.
‘Steel yourself, sweetheart,’ he muttered.
She was ready and more willing than she wanted to admit. But he knew, didn’t he? She saw the triumph in his eyes as he bent towards her.
This kiss lingered. This kiss lit something else—there was more than a gossamer caress, there was a hint of intent and she couldn’t stop her own response—the parting gasp of delight that allowed him in.
But instead he pulled back. She saw his face only briefly but the smile was gone from his eyes—replaced by blazing intensity and an arrogant tilt to his jaw and suddenly he was back. Stealing a third. This last kiss was not chaste. He crushed her lips with his in a too-brief stamp of passion that promised so much more than it ought to—the sweep of his tongue commanding a response that she couldn’t withhold. Heat and power surged through her as his hands tightened—holding her firm while promising even more. Still dignified, but so, so dangerous. It was only a moment, but one that changed her irrevocably. Because she’d been the one to moan in regret when it ended. She’d never wanted it to end.
‘That was three, not two,’ she breathed, trying to whip up some fury but failing. She was too floored, too unstable in containing her feelings.
‘So sue me,’ he breathed back before laughing delightedly. ‘What are you going to do about it standing here in front of the world?’
‘Stop it, all the lip-readers will interpret what you’re saying and they’ll know this is—’
‘You stop talking. I’m not even moving my lips. Ventriloquising is a talent of mine. Learned it from a very early age. You do when you’re filmed and photographed at every possible opportunity.’
She giggled as she knew he’d intended. ‘Is it even a word?’
‘You bet. Formal study required.’ He turned his head so no cameras could get between either of them and gazed into her eyes; his own were dancing. ‘Now seriously, be silent, or I’ll have to employ emergency tactics and I don’t know that it would be wise for me to do that here and now.’
His voice had an edge and she knew what he meant. He raised his free hand and waved to the crowds, who cheered again, then he helped her down the marble steps and into the glass carriage. He sat close, his arm tight around her while she rationalised that extra kiss. He was pleased with the afternoon’s events, that was all. That kiss had been a moment of pure male satisfaction—of pleasure and power.
‘Hester?’
‘No.’ She glinted at him. ‘You’ve had more than your lifetime allowance.’ She smiled and waved to the crowd.
‘But—’
‘You can’t ventriloquise your way out of this, Alek,’ she scolded. ‘You broke the deal.’
‘Why, Hester Moss, are you chastising me?’
‘I’m no longer Hester Moss.’ She flashed her teeth at him in a brilliant smile. ‘And I’m putting on a good show, aren’t I?’
* * *
The woman formerly known as Hester
