Page 55 of Expecting Royal Twins!
Music continued to play. Izzy recognized the song. Soon it would be her turn to walk down the aisle.
She remembered her princess instructions.
Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile.
Izzy could do this. She was a princess of Vernonia, even if she felt like a mechanic from Charlotte. She was doing this for her new country. For her parents. For Uncle Frank.
And Niko.
Her chest tightened at the thought of him.
He was waiting for her at the front of the church. Boyd, acting as his best man, would stand next to him. When she’d explained to her friend that marrying Niko was her choice and she liked him, Boyd had given her a strange smile and a shrug. Whatever sting he might have felt disappeared when the king offered to buy Boyd a new truck for his troubles.
Izzy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
Through her lace veil, she watched another attendant, the youngest daughter of a former Separatist leader, enter the church through the massive arched doorway. The oohs and aahs of the crowd floated on the air as they did during a fireworks display. The flashing of the camera bulbs and the web of electrical cords from the television crews made it seem more like a sports event than a wedding. Selling the television rights to the royal nuptials of the crown prince to the half-American princess had brought in more money than anyone had expected.
Rowdy, her former boss, cleared his throat. He stood next to her in the vestibule ready to walk her down the aisle. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked uncomfortable in the tuxedo. “You sure about this, Izzy?”
No. But she thought about Niko. He’d been honest about his reasons for marrying her. He’d been open about the need for heirs and the types of marriages they could have. But she’d also noticed the tenderness in his eyes when she caught him looking at her, the way he’d helped her since arriving and the love he had for his country. All those things told her he was a good, honorable man. “I’m sure.”
Rowdy’s eyes gleamed. “All your uncle wanted was for you to be safe and happy.”
“I am. Honest.”
“Then we’re good to go.” Her ex-boss sniffled. “You are a beautiful bride.”
“Thanks, Rowdy.” Izzy felt pretty, even though she’d had plenty of help to look so good. Since early this morning, she’d been fussed over, primped and pampered with a massage, manicure, pedicure and expert makeup application. Everything had been overseen and supervised by Jules. Three hairdressers had spent over an hour sweeping her hair up and through the diamond tiara that secured the cathedral-length veil. The last of the crystals and pearls had been hand-sewn on the bodice of her wedding gown only an hour ago by a dress designer named Delia.
Yes, the crew of wedding experts had transformed Izzy into a fairy-tale princess bride even though she’d been the prince’s wife for the last twenty-three years. A happily-ever-after wasn’t waiting for her after the exchange of “I dos.” The birth of heirs would classify the match as a success or a failure, but would the union be full of love or loveless? That was the big question. One that wouldn’t be answered for…years.
Two more attendants made the long walk down the aisle. In the vestibule, the remaining bridesmaids and six flower girls moved forward. Izzy had been introduced to all of them five days ago at a luncheon thrown by the wives of Parliament members.
Nerves escalating, Izzy gripped her all-white rose bouquet. She focused on the flowers’ sweet fragrance.
Three more attendants made their way down the aisle. The folds of their gowns swished like flags in the wind.
Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile.
Jules flashed her a smile and a thumbs-up before stepping into the church. The six flower girls, dressed in layers of white ruffles, played with the white rose petals in their baskets. One of them, the youngest daughter of a duke, giggled.
The tight-faced, headpiece-wearing wedding coordinator shushed her. “Quiet. It’s almost your turn.”
And then it would be Izzy’s turn.
Her pulse rate doubled. She took a calming breath. Another. And another. But it didn’t help.
In the old days, arranged marriages were quite successful. Why shouldn’t ours be?
She clung to Niko’s words, holding out the hope that they could spend the rest of their years together, not apart and married in name only.
