Faery Wedding(6)

“Ahh…yes. Um, okay.”

The priestess’s smile wavered in the face of the sarcastic comment, but she quickly recovered, the panicked look in her eyes fading once more into the benign joy that was beginning to bug the crap out of him. Not for the first time he wondered whether the Great Mother’s priestesses were on something, or smoked something. They were into all the herbal stuff, and there were some weird-ass herbs out there.

The priestess raised her hands in welcome, looking out over the congregation. “My lords, ladies and…err…gentlemen.” Dev sighed as she caught sight of his father, standing to his right. True to form, Lord Archer had ignored ‘acceptable behavior in company’ and gone right through to ‘the best way to embarrass every member of my immediate family.’

Currently he was making a crude gesture with his tongue at the Rubenesque priestess. Which was bad enough. What was worse was that he’d acquired a tongue piercing since Dev had seen him two days ago. Something which did not make him look hip, happening, or in the least cool. It just made him look more of a pervert than he already was. He sighed and turned back toward Ash. Her back was rigid, and her lips pursed in displeasure.

Wonderful. Between the snow queen and Casanova, this was going to be a great wedding.

Things didn’t get better for Dev. The ceremony went off without a hitch, if you discounted the fact the priestess was blushing so much her face resembled a lobster, and his bride looked ready to commit murder. Her vows had been said in a tight, clipped voice, and when he’d gone in for the traditional kiss the look on her face would have rivalled Medusa’s. Who, as Dev recalled, had been a very nice lady indeed. Just a bit sensitive about her hair.

They posed for the photos in a stony silence that took him aback. And to think he’d been worried about being driven mad by the inane chattering of his Fae bride, he mused as he eyed up the gaggle of gossiping blondes stood off to one side as they waited their turn in the spotlight of the photographer's camera. All Sidhe, and the sort of blonde bimbo that proved the race was way too interbred.

His gaze slid to his petite, curvy bride. She wasn’t Sidhe, that much was obvious. He’d known that as soon as he’d seen her last night. For one thing, there was way too much power surging through her veins. Quite what she was he didn’t know, and that piqued his interest.

“You take after your father, don’t you?” he asked as the photographer positioned them for yet another photo. Dev glared at him when his hand lingered longer around Ash’s slender waist than was proper. It was the sort of look that plainly said ‘try that again buddy, and I’ll take it off at the wrist.’

It was no false show of male bravado either. Although he counted himself as—no, prided himself on being a new man—Dev was quickly finding out that his instincts regarding Ash were not only archaic, they were downright Draconian.

She finally favored him with a look. Since she’d managed the rest of the ceremony and most of the photos without looking at or speaking to him, he counted it as a minor victory. Even if her brown eyes lacked the warmth of earlier, and were instead filled with enough ice to freeze his ass at a hundred paces.

“No. I take after my grandmother.”

Dev smiled with genuine pleasure at the crack in her ice-queen façade. Sharing personal information like that was a good start. He scanned the guests around them, trying to spot a lady who was likely to be her grandmother.

“Is she here? I’d like to congratulate her on her beautiful granddaughter.”



Try as she might to maintain the ice queen manner, Ash couldn’t. Her lips quirked of their own accord as her handsome groom looked around hopefully, as if he expected to see her grandmother mingling with the guests.

Just the thought of Babsheba mingling with the wedding guests had a chuckle of amusement just waiting to escape. The only time her grandmother would circulate would be if she could grab an arm or leg as a snack. Not for the first time, sadness welled up and obliterated her amusement. Her grandmother had been absorbed into the Host two years before, and Ash missed her terribly. If Babsheba had been here today then her family, not even her father, would have dared sell her off to pay their debts.

“She…isn’t with us anymore.”

He slid a sideways look toward her, and reached out for her hand. Even though she’d hardened her heart against him, after all he’d lied to her about who he was, she couldn’t resist that small gesture of comfort.

She opened her mouth to thank him, but didn’t manage to get the words out before a familiar figure stepped into her line of sight. Even though she tried to control the reaction, her body instantly stiffened as her father stopped in front of them.