The Royals Collection. Rebecca Winters
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music began, and Sam looked up to see Anne and her father taking their places. She wore a crème-colored floor-length dress with layers of soft silk ruffles. But even that did little to disguise the fact that she was pregnant. Not that everyone there didn’t already know. He would swear that since she had come to see him last week her tummy had nearly doubled in size. But as far as he was concerned it only made her look more ravishing.
Her hair was piled up on her head in loose curls with soft wisps trailing down to frame her face. And of course she wore a jewel-encrusted tiara.
Everyone stood to receive her, and Sam watched, mesmerized as she walked slowly toward him, looking radiant. She seemed to glow from the inside out with happiness.
It was obvious, the way the king clung to her arm as he walked her down the short path, that it was taking every bit of strength he could muster to make the short trip. But he did it with grace and dignity.
Here we go, Sam thought, as the king linked his and Anne’s hands together. It was the end of life as he once knew it. But as they spoke their vows and exchanged rings, instead of feeling cornered or trapped, he felt a deep sense of calm. He took that as a sign that he truly was doing the right thing. Maybe not just for their child, but for the two of them, as well.
Following the ceremony, drinks and hors d’oeuvres were served under a tent on the castle grounds. After a bit of mingling, Sam stood by the bar, watching his new wife. She was chatting with his brother and Adam seemed quite taken with her. Under the circumstances Sam might have expected some tension between their families, but everyone seemed to get along just fine. Almost too well.
Price Christian stepped up to the bar to get a drink, and told Sam, “Nice wedding.”
Sam nodded. “It was.”
He got his drink then turned to stand beside Sam. “I’ve never seen my sister so happy.”
She did look happy. And Sam was glad that his family had the chance to see this side of her, the one so unlike what they had read in the press and heard about through the rumor mill. He liked to think of this Anne as his Anne, the real woman inside, whom he had rescued from an existence of negativity and despair.
They had done a lot of talking this week in preparation for their wedding and she’d opened up about some of the past men in her life. The ones who had used and betrayed her. After all she had been through, it was a wonder she hadn’t lost her ability to trust entirely.
She saw him watching her and flashed him a smile.
“Your sister deserves to be happy,” Sam told the prince.
“I think so, too.” Then he added with a wry grin, “And if you ever do hurt her, I’ll have to hurt you back.”
Sam was quite sure, despite the prince’s smile, it was said only partly in jest. “I’ll keep that in mind, Your Highness.”
From across the tent a baby’s cry split the quiet murmur of conversation and they both turned to see Princess Melissa wrestling with two squirming bundles.
“I guess that’s my cue,” the prince said. He started to walk away, then stopped and said, “By the way, since we’re family now, you can drop the ‘Your Highness’ thing and just call me Chris.”
“After all these years of addressing you formally, that might take some getting used to.”
“Tell me about it,” Chris said with a grin before he walked off to rescue his wife.
Sam felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Anne standing there.
She slipped her arm through his and tucked herself close to his side and said excitedly, “Can you believe it, Sam? We’re married.”
“Strange, isn’t it?”
“Do you think it’s odd that I’m so happy?”
“Not at all.” He leaned down to brush a kiss across her lips. “I would be worried if you weren’t.”
“How soon do you think we can sneak out of here? I’m guessing that we could squeeze in some alone time before we leave for our honeymoon.”
He was about to say, as soon as possible, when an explosion pierced his ears and shook the ground beneath his feet. Startled cries from the guests followed and Anne screeched in surprise. Sam instinctively shielded her with his body and looked in the direction of the sound as a ball of fire and smoke billowed up from the north side of the castle. At first he could hardly believe what he was seeing—his first instinct was to get Anne somewhere safe as quickly as possible—but before he had an instant to act, the entire area was crawling with security.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” Anne demanded, shoving past him to see, and when she saw the flames and smoke darkening the clear blue afternoon sky, the color drained from her face.
Security was already rounding everyone up and guiding them in the opposite direction, away from the blast.
“It’s him,” Anne said, looking more angry than afraid, watching as acrid smoke began to blow in their direction. “The Gingerbread Man did this.”
Threatening e-mails and occasional pranks were an annoyance, but this was a serious escalation. He was obviously out of control. If it was even him. “For all we know it could be an accident,” he told her.
“No,” she said firmly. “It’s him. And this time he’s gone too far.”
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