Page 41 of A Vow to Set the Virgin Free

The goddess of war.

She had her sword brandished, her hair flying wild in the wind. Around the perimeter of the coin in flowing script it said:Have courage. Take heart.

She smiled, rubbing her thumb over the gold pendant, it was perfect.

He did see her.

She was not just any woman.

She was Athena.

She slipped the dress on, and was surprised how well it fit. It had long sleeves, and conformed to her body perfectly. She looked like a bride. She took some of the flowers that she had picked and braided them into her hair, and then she used some of the makeup that had been provided for her recently to put gold on her eyes, and red on her lips. She found a ribbon amid some of her things and tied the rest of the flowers into a bouquet. Except for his.

She nestled his into the center of the bouquet to make it easier to carry, and then she put on the necklace.

Have courage. Take heart.

She took a breath and headed down the long spiral staircase. And there he was. Waiting. Looking imposing in his dark suit.

Imposing, but stunning.

He was not a man who could be accused of being handsome. And yet there was something about him that drew her. Would it have been so if they had not spent those weeks talking? If he had not saved her from the dog? Would it have been so if she had not seen him bleed for her. If she hadn’t been eating his cooking, if she hadn’t felt his care in that way?

There was no way to know.

But he was incredibly tall. Six foot five at least, with broad shoulders and a broad chest. He was like a warrior of old. A man who was scarred by battle.

A man who would go to war with her.Forher.

“It suits you,” he said, looking at her with dispassionate blue eyes.

Except there was something there. A banked ember she sensed had the potential to become a whole wildfire.

She swallowed hard.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Let’s go.”

“Wait,” she said.

She moved toward him, and plucked the flower out of the center of her bouquet. She looped it through the buttonhole on his lapel.

She patted his chest. “There.”

He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I thought that it was right. For a wedding.”

“I see.”

He did not thank her. He turned and began to walk away, and she caught up to him, and draped her arm over his, almost without thinking.

But itdidjust seem right. It was their wedding, and she was to be his bride. Shouldn’t they walk together? Shouldn’t he hold on to her?

He looked at her, a question in his eyes.

“It also seemed right. For a wedding.”

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