The small room where they stood was unlit, and a man in robes stood in the shadows. Lissa couldn’t make out his face.
“We need a room to get ready,” Casimir said.
The priest closed and locked the door and then gestured for them to follow him.
“Do you have the paperwork?” Casimir asked.
The priest nodded, paused by a door, opened it and indicated for Lissa to go in. She did, and Casimir followed her. The priest shut the door, leaving them alone.
“It’s bad luck to see me before the wedding,” she said.
He smiled at her. Happy. She loved his smile. “This is our wedding. Part of it. A ritual. The groom helping the bride into her dress. The bride helping the groom with his tie.”
She nodded, shocked that his answer made her even happier.
He hung up the garment bags. “I’m going to get rid of Tomasso. We won’t need him again until tomorrow. I’ll get dressed and help you into your dress.” His hands framed her face. “Thank you for this, Giacinta, it means the world to me that you’d trust me this much.”
She found her eyes burning again. He had no idea how much she felt for him. The emotion nearly overwhelmed her. She knew she was living in the moment, but she also knew this might be all they ever had together and that made their decision all the more important.
While Casimir was in the small bathroom, she carefully did her hair in an artfully messy cascade that was pulled back from her face and twisted into a loose knot at the back of her head to allow her back to show in the dress. The drop earrings would show off the sheer fabric at her shoulders and the long necklace would accent the plunging neckline. She had on the stockings and heels and had stepped into her wedding gown when the door opened and Casimir emerged.
He looked… gorgeous. So handsome he took her breath away. He wore a black suit that fit him as if it had been made for him. She was certain it had been. His shoulders were wide and his body made for such a beautiful cut of jacket. His gaze jumped to her carefully made-up face, makeup with an edge toward drama but still muted, looking almost barely there.
Casimir looked at her as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. Stark love was so raw on his face, stamped into his masculine features, every line, and his eyes, that incredible, slashing silver held the same intense desire – so much so that the absolute intensity brought on a flutter in the region of her heart. “Baby,” she breathed, because that was all she could do. All she could say.
He swirled his finger, indicating for her to turn as she drew up the gown, the sheer lace fabric settling over her shoulders. He did up the long row of jeweled buttons up the center of her back, adding to the mystique the jeweled illusion back created.
He bent and kissed the side of her neck, his breath warm. “Krasavisa.” He whispered the word against the skin behind her ear. “Ya lyublyu tebya.”
She knew the first word was “beautiful” and the second phrase was “I love you.” They both sounded amazing in his native language.
He turned her to face him, his hands gentle on her arms. When she was fully facing him, only a whisper away, he traced the plunging line of her gown in the long vee, over the curve of one breast, down to where the vee came together at her waist and back up over the curve of the other. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”
She found herself staring into his eyes. This man belonged to her. He was dangerous, yes, but he was also unexpectedly romantic. It meant something to him that she had agreed to dress in a wedding gown for him. She still couldn’t believe that he had planned the entire event knowing there was a good chance she might not agree. She liked that he was romantic and that he’d showed that to her now. She needed it. She needed to know she was important to him.
Because she couldn’t talk, couldn’t tell him what he meant to her, she reached up to knot his tie. Her hands trembled. Even in heels she was quite a bit shorter than he was and she had to reach to get his tie straight.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded. “Are you?”
He took her hand. “More than ready. I never thought I’d ever have you, Giacinta. Never. I couldn’t even imagine a woman as perfect for me as you are.”
She ducked her head and allowed him to secure the long, sheer veil in her hair. Heart pounding, she stepped out the door with him. The priest was patiently waiting. Hand in hand, they followed him into the small chapel. Just inside the entryway, the priest stopped and turned to them.
A man stood to one side of the priest. He was tall and broad-shouldered. His hair was long. Very long. He wore it pulled back in a very tidy tail down his back. His arms bulged under his suit jacket. Tattoos drifted up his neck. His eyes were a piercing green. Not silver, but green. Still, she recognized those eyes. Prakenskii eyes. Beside her, Lissa heard Casimir’s swift intake of breath and knew he had recognized those eyes.