And now, today was the day.
At the altar end of the aisle, I bounced nervously up and down on my toes, casting frequent glances down the aisle to see if Keira had arrived yet. Her friends and family from America were here, still looking quite shocked that their very own Keira was marrying a British royal, but they’d simply have to get used to it, because I was going to stay married to her as long as we lived.
If she showed up, that is. The ceremony was meant to start five minutes ago, and I was starting to worry. Maybe she’d finally realized I wasn’t anywhere near good enough for her?
Michael nudged me, seemingly reading my mind. “She’s too good for you, but if she hasn’t realized it by now, you’re probably safe. Plus, you’ve already knocked her up so I think the odds are pretty good that she’ll be walking down that aisle any moment now.
“You’re a great comfort,” I replied with a smile.
“I’m sure you’ll be just as helpful when it’s my turn.”
“Got anyone in mind? How about Princess Alexandra?” I joked.
“I don’t think she’d like Africa.”
For pretty much his entire life, my brother had been fixated on the throne and how he might acquire something that he felt should’ve been his but never could be. It had been a waste of a colossal amount of energy, and now that he’d got that monkey off his back and accepted that I would be King, he’d found that he suddenly had all that energy to spare. In the last two months, he’d thrown himself into charitable projects and discovered that he had a talent for them. His organizational skills, single-mindedness and dedication, which had been for so long squandered, served him well in this new role. He might forever be branded as the treacherous younger brother, but he could live with that if he was doing good things at the same time.
“You know you’re making me look bad with all that?” I said.
“That’s the little brother’s job,” Michael said. “You have your duties as heir to the throne and I have mine as the other son. And I guess that we’re both doing a pretty good job now.”
“Took long enough.”
“Yeah, but we got there in the end.” Michael checked his waistcoat pocket for the rings for the hundredth time then looked back to me. “Thank you for asking me to be your best man. You didn’t have to after what I did, and…”
“It was a good decision,” I said firmly. “And I think the title fits you well these days. Besides, it’s Keira you should really thank.”
“I have,” Michael said. “You got a good one.”
“The best,” I replied.
The doors at the end of the Abbey opened, and the opening chords of Mendelssohn’s wedding march sounded. I stared down the aisle at the vision in white that was starting to glide towards me, escorted by her father, and my heart swelled. The dress made no effort to hide the five-month baby bump, and why should it? It just made her that much more beautiful.
It was probably the first time in history that a visibly pregnant woman had married a member of British royalty, and it would probably be talked about for years to come, but hey—people were going to talk about this wedding either way, and everyone already knew she was pregnant, thanks to that short-lived media scandal a few months ago. Public opinion had swayed quickly, and the majority of people now seemed to love the idea of me and Keira being together; she was seen as an inspiration for girls all over the globe. The world was changing fast. No longer did you have to be a so-called high-born woman to snag a prince…you could be anyone, and you’d have a shot.
But not with me. I was taken.
Keira had finally reached the end of the aisle, and I grinned at her as she took her place across from me. Our wedding ceremony was being televised across several different countries, and because of that, millions were watching us at this very second. And yet, the whole world seemed to fade away when Keira looked at me, and all I could see and feel in the Abbey was her.
“Ready to officially become a princess?” I asked.
She smiled and nodded. “Ready.”
Chapter 29
Keira
“I thought that went well.”
With the photos, the cheering, the traditional balcony appearance and all the other public-friendly rigmarole of royal weddings over, I found a moment to chat with my maid of honor.
“It had its moments,” Sarah said. “I think some people were a bit surprised when you and Andrew kissed before the Archbishop said ‘you may now kiss the bride’.”
“It was just a peck.”
“Just a peck?” Sarah rolled her eyes. “He was one step away from mounting you on the altar.”