Page 74 of RAKEish

The guards began to advance toward Mark, but before they could lay a hand on him, Rose’s voice, strong and unwavering, pierced through the chaos. “I would rather face death than marry a man in love with another!” Her declaration echoed through the chapel, a fierce testament to her own heart’s truth, and silenced the room with its intensity.

The Queen, undeterred, fixed all of them with a cold, unyielding stare. “It is the will of the King that this union take place. None of your feelings matter when weighed against duty and tradition.” This was Mildred’s ultimate revenge against Scott’s mother. To show no mercy for her son. For Scott.

Scott’s temper took over. The absurdity of it all—a wedding where both the bride and the groom’s hearts belonged elsewhere—was overwhelmingly clear. “As the future King of Shiretopia,” he said, speaking directly to Mildred, “I declare you wrong.” He then glanced at those in attendance. “The desires of Shiretopia’s future king shall not be dismissed so easily.”

“Future kings have no say in current matters of the country,” Mildred said coldly. She turned toward her husband. “Tell them I’m correct, King Landshire. Tell them this wedding will go through as planned.”

“Father?” Scott said. “Will you have me marry a woman whom I feel nothing for? A woman whom all of Shiretopia now knows is in love with my best friend?”

The King, his voice, seasoned with age, resonated with a quiet authority. “We are not barbarians, intent on forcing unions upon those unwilling. This should never have reached such a point,” he acknowledged, casting a sympathetic glance at Scott and Rose. “If neither wishes to proceed with this marriage, it can be halted, provided there is proof that the curse afflicting the Landshire lineage has indeed been broken, thus allowing my son to know the emotion love.”

“Father, is my word not adequate?” Scott asked.

“The time for your marriage is upon us, my son. If there is a woman who holds your heart, let her take Rose’s place,” the King decreed.

“That can be arranged, but I must first return to Manhattan to win her heart,” Scott protested.

“I planned for such an outburst during this ceremony,” Father said. “As such, I’ve arranged for you to win her heart here and now in front of all of Shiretopia.” He gestured toward the chapel doors. “Let her in.”

As the doors swung open, Doc stood there, looking outrageously out of place yet strikingly beautiful. Her emerald eyes were wide with shock, her blonde hair tousled as if she had been caught in a whirlwind. She was clad in mismatched pajamas—the bottoms had images of books on them, the top a mismatched, oversized T-shirt—one of his. On her feet, mismatched fuzzy slippers. One pink. One black. Yet even in this disheveled state, there was an undeniable charm about her that made Scott’s heart trip all over itself with the urge to escape and run to her side.

Doc’s eyes darted around the chapel, taking in the opulent setting, the expectant faces, and Scott standing at the altar. “You kidnapped me from my apartment to witness your wedding?” The absurdity of her attire in the midst of the grandeur of a royal wedding struck a note of humor amidst the tension, eliciting a few stifled chuckles from the crowd.

A scoffing noise from the queen drew Scott’s eyes toward her.

“You can’t seriously be considering allowing her as the next queen of Shiretopia!” Mildred said to the King. “She looks no more fit than that shrew—”

“Enough,” the king bellowed.

The queen’s words trailed off into a venomous hiss as she glared at Doc, her disdain palpable.

Doc glared back. “I’ll have you know I was very comfortable in the privacy of my home until two men showed up and brought me here against my will.” She paused and gave a proper huff of exasperation. “So, excuse my lack of royal attire. They didn’t even let me pack my Jimmy Choos.”

Scott’s heart swelled with admiration as Doc faced the queen’s contempt with fiery determination. Despite her bewildering and abrupt arrival, clad in pajamas that were a stark contrast to the regal setting, she exuded a strength that defied her casual appearance.

“You are perfectly perfect as you are,” Scott told Doc.

A murmur of approval, mixed with a few suppressed smiles, rippled through the assembly. Scott couldn’t quash a wave of pride. Doc, with her unapologetic authenticity, had captivated the room, earning admiration from everyone present, including himself.

Scott’s gaze shifted to his father, who stood silently, observing Doc with an expression that bordered on respect. “Father?” Scott prompted, seeking his response.

The king seemed to emerge from a contemplative state, nodding slowly. “Indeed,” he said, his voice resonating with a newfound acknowledgment. “The future queen’s mettle is not measured by her dress, but by her character.” His words, affirming Doc’s worthiness, were in sharp contrast to the queen’s superficial judgments.

“Could someone please tell me why I’m here?” Doc’s voice cut through the tension.

Scott’s attention was drawn back to Doc, who stood defiantly amidst the chapel’s opulence. She’d loved him once; he’d do whatever it took to win her heart again. “Dr. Luxury Stone, a part of my body is broken, I need for you to please put it back together.”

Her eyes widened, and her gaze swung down his body and then back up to his eyes and too late he realized his folly. But before he could correct her misunderstanding, she spoke.

“Hell's fudging bells. I thought…but my analysis…it must have been wrong. Gah. I warned you, my nightmares come true. I mean, of course, in my dream you came to me, but it stands to reason—with such a medical condition you’re in no shape to travel, and thus my need to come to you. How did it happen? How did you break your—”

A guffaw came from Mark. He knew.

A snicker came from Rose. She knew.

“Scott,” the king said, cutting off Doc’s babbling, a hint of amusement in his voice. He knew. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

CHAPTER 26

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