Page 89 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
Instead, on his way to marry Meg, he was prey to steadily building impatience. An impatience to have this day over and done so that, hand in hand, he and she could embark on the adventure of creating their joint life, the one they would live side by side, sharing and supporting each other through whatever the years might bring.
The eagerness to seize and secure that shining future that was coursing through him was so intense it stole his breath and left him humbled.
As he took up his position on the step before the altar, he looked up at the large window beyond the choir and literally prayed that all would run smoothly through the day, and that at the end of it, Meg would be his.
* * *
Meg pausedin the foyer of the church while her attendants fluttered and fussed about her. Her mother waited by the presently closed doors leading into the nave and watched in a way that reminded Meg that she was the baby of the family and about to leave her home. Her father stood to the side, waiting to escort her down the aisle, while Toby, standing guard by the door, watched over their mother’s head, an understanding, indulgent smile on his lips.
Pru was among the flutterers. After primping the fern leaves in Meg’s bouquet of white roses and lilies, Pru stepped back, and as Lydia and Anthi took up their places behind Meg, the edge of her train in their hands, Pru ran her gaze critically over them all. Frowning, she imperiously waved Demon to his position beside Meg, then after one last comprehensive glance, Pru nodded decisively. “We’re ready.”
She scurried around and took up her position behind Lydia and Anthi, and everyone looked at Toby.
He cracked open the door and signaled through it. A moment later, Carter and Calvin, their cousins, slipped into the foyer and took up stations at either side of the heavy double doors sealing off the nave.
Toby offered his arm to his mother. “Mama?”
She smiled, bustled the few steps to Meg, raised her veil, and bussed Meg’s cheek. “I’m so proud of you, my love,” she whispered. She resettled the veil, then turned to Toby and took his arm, and Calvin held open one of the double doors for them to slide through into the aisle.
Carter grinned at the assembled party. “The organist is on his toes. He’ll start the wedding march as soon as Toby and Aunt Flick are seated.”
During that final minute as she waited to start her walk down the aisle, to take Drago’s hand and forge a new life by his side, Meg felt none of the apprehension she’d expected would consume her. Instead, despite the unresolved threats, despite the rush, despite everything, a heady sense of joyful eagerness welled inside and buoyed her.
The first strains of the wedding march rang out in a summoning peal.
Demon patted her hand. “Here we go, my darling girl. Are you ready?”
She looked up at him and knew happiness filled her eyes. “Yes.”
Moving in ceremonial concert, Carter and Calvin, both beaming, swung the doors wide.
Meg hauled in an excited, expectant breath and held it, then Demon stepped out, and she paced with him.
They passed under the archway and into the nave, and her gaze flashed down the long aisle to the altar steps and landed on Drago.
Tall, dark-haired, superbly elegant in formal wedding attire, he waited, watching her, his dark gaze, even at this distance, compelling.
Mesmerizing.
She couldn’t look away. Screened by her veil, her smile was all for him as on her father’s arm, she traveled down the aisle, Demon’s presence by her side the only thing restraining her from rushing.
Regardless of how they had got to this place, to this point in time, this moment was so right. So very right for both of them.
With that certainty in her heart, she halted and waited while her father ceremonially placed her hand in Drago’s.
As his long fingers curled about hers, Drago’s gaze was fixed on her veiled face; in that moment, he was every bit as consumed by her as she was by him.
Their gazes locked, then both drew in a breath and, as one, turned to face the minister.
For Drago, the ceremony passed in a blur of familiar phrases and words spoken by rote.
They exchanged their vows in clear, sure tones, yet instead of focusing on such physical manifestations, his awareness was overwhelmed by a deep, intense, and shatteringly complete understanding of what taking this step and marrying Meg truly meant for him.
The possessive protectiveness that had been steadily building from the moment he’d first met her was there to stay and would only grow more powerful with the years. The vulnerability that underlay that, that gave it birth and drove it, was now ineradicable and, likewise, destined to grow even more acute once she was formally his duchess.
In marrying Meg today, he was acknowledging that and accepting it. Willingly.
For a man like him, until now blithely hedonistic, today signaled a profound, bedrock-reshaping change.
