Nyssa got to her feet and turned, ready to greet their visitor. Her breath caught in her throat as Tatum strode into the room. He wore tan linen pants and a white shirt open at the throat. A hint of a scar showed on his skin and she resisted the urge to trace her fingers over it, holding still as a stone in case he disappeared.
“Mr. Scott. So good of you to join us.”
Tatum bowed to her mother. Nyssa couldn’t believe he was here—and that her mother had learned his last name before she had.
“It’s an honor, your Majesty. And I asked you to call me Tatum.” His eyes sparkled with a bit of mischief. Her mother would love that.
“Let’s save that for after the ceremony, assuming my daughter says yes.”
Nyssa was so pleased to see him, to have him standing in her home, that she thought she would burst. “Yes!” she said.
Her mother scowled. “You haven’t heard the question yet, dear.”
“I don’t care—for Tatum it will always be yes.”
Tatum grinned. “In that case, I want a bowling alley on the first floor of the palace.”
“Done!” Nyssa clapped her hands.
“Nyssa,” scolded Mother.
Tatum stepped closer—close enough that she could smell his clean skin and see the nervousness in his eyes. “Nyssa Jobassit, you make the little moments mean everything and I would like to spend the rest of my life doing ordinary things with an extraordinary woman. Will you do me the honor of entering into a traditional Zimradian courtship?”
“Yes.” She put her hands on his cheeks, unable to stand the distance between them any longer. She unabashedly pulled his lips to hers just has she had in the bowling alley. He kissed her back without a pause, without thought, but with a slow and deliberate love.
Mother stood and cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go break a prince’s heart and work out a new treaty with the king of Riodan.” She left the room, her dress billowing behind her.
“Did I do something wrong?” asked Tatum.
Nyssa giggled, running her hand over Tatum’s shoulder and back up his neck. “Not at all—that’s Mother’s way of saying she approves.”
Tatum grinned. “Good—she was a tough negotiator for the con—”
Nyssa put her finger over his lips. “The first rule of living in the palace is to kiss me as often as possible. Especially if no one is around.”
Tatum’s eyes lit. “I like that rule.”
Nyssa nodded. “It’s a good rule.”
And they followed the rule all the rest of their days.
About the Author
Lucy McConnell has always been a reader and a writer. She writes fantasy, clean romance, Christian romance, historical fiction, and cookbooks under the name Christina Dymock.
When she’s not writing, you can find her volunteering at the elementary school or the church; shuttling kids to baseball, soccer, basketball, or rodeo, depending on the time of year; skiing with her family; wake boarding; cycling; or curled up with a good book.
You can sign up for her newsletter by clicking here and can check out here website here: http://lucymcconnell.wordpress.com/
