And then as my grandfather and I move closer, I see him. No matter how outdated the tradition is, no matter how much it inconvenienced our guests, no matter how long those hours were this morning without him, it was worth it.
And I have to admit that watching his handsome face struggle to contain his emotions, feeling my own blood heat at the sight of him in his tuxedo-it was worth it. He wanted to wait to see each other until the ceremony, he wanted this moment. Shock seems to ripple through him as he fully sees me-the dress, the veil, the tremulous smile-and pleasure kindles and glows in my chest at this. And right now all of that power and strength is bent toward me as we lock eyes and, even across the distance of the nave, begin to breathe as one. He doesn’t have to exude power and strength, he simply is power and strength made manifest. Even if he didn’t stand at the top of the stairs leading up to the altar, he would still seem taller than everyone else around him, because that’s just Ash. He wears his tuxedo as if he were born wearing one, his wide shoulders and narrow hips filling out the tailored lines perfectly. My pulses catches, races, trips over itself as it rushes to my lips and face and heart. The guests are standing, the candles are flickering, my veil is perfect. My grandfather takes my arm to guide me down the aisle. With a deep breath, I step in front of the doors just as they open, the airy notes of Pachelbel’s Canon in D drifting through the stone nave. My only comfort is that I won’t be alone in my suffering. I will bear, believe in, hope for, and endure Ash’s love until the day I die, even if that means robbing my own soul. There’s no place he can go that I won’t follow, no sacrifice he can demand of me that I won’t give, no part of myself that I won’t offer willingly and completely to him. From the moment I met Ash, I knew I was destined to But when I think of what awaits me at the end of the aisle, of who awaits me, I straighten my shoulders and blink away from the verses. Perhaps I’m the only bride ever to stand in front of these massive sanctuary doors and wonder if God is trying to give me a warning. The entire passage from I Corinthians is etched into a marble block in the church’s narthex, and any other bride standing here might have seen these words as a comfort and an encouragement. I stare at the last line of the Bible verse as my cousin Abilene and her mother continue to fuss with the edges of my veil. It bears all things, it believes all things, it hopes all things, it endures all things. It does not insist on its own way it is not irritable or resentful it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in truth. Love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.Ĭover Design: Hang Le Cover Image: Shutterstock Editor: Evident Ink CONTENTS Prologue The Princess Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 The Queen Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Ready for More? Also by Sierra Simone Acknowledgments About the AuthorĬopyright © 2016 by Sierra Simone All rights reserved.
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