Page 159 of The Unlikely Heir
And he’s kissing me, and I sink into the kiss, relishing the feeling of his hands sliding under my shirt, the feel of Oliver’s body against mine.
Because, oh my god, getting to this point in our relationship was incredibly hard. But it appears to be ending like all fairy tales involving a prince and their one true love, with an amazing happily-ever-after.
* * *
Our wedding day is a blur of small moments, snapshots I try to imprint in my brain to remember forever.
The cheering crowd as I ride with Nicholas in a gilded carriage through the streets of London toward Westminster Abbey. Walking up the crimson carpet. Shaking hands with dignitaries before walking past the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior and up the aisle to the altar.
Then I’m standing at the altar, and the music starts that means Oliver is walking down the aisle toward me. My stomach churns with nerves. Nicholas is waiting next to me, and he turns to watch Oliver. There were many debates about which of us would walk up the aisle, but the palace officials were adamant that as the Prince of Wales, I should be standing at the altar. Oliver was all good with either option. The only stumbling block was who would walk him up the aisle. Which was where my grandmother stepped in.
I know I’m not supposed to look, but I can’t resist a peek back at where my handsome fiancé is walking up the aisle on the arm of his queen and soon-to-be grandmother-in-law, past a choir singing radiantly.
I feel slightly lightheaded when I see him because, suddenly, the cameras don’t matter, the audience of millions doesn’t matter, and even the presence of my grandmother, the queen, doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that Oliver is walking up the aisle toward me, and we are about to join our lives together forever.
He reaches the altar, and I can look at him properly now, just as he can look at me.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I know,” he whispers back.
And I grin at him, and he smiles in return, and being on the receiving end of Oliver’s smile causes my heart to pound.
My mother’s words echo in my head.You don’t have to change; you just need to find someone who loves you exactly how you are.
What an absolutely extraordinary miracle that the person who loves me exactly as I am turned out to be Oliver Hartwell.
My heart continues to tap out a happy rhythm as the ceremony begins.
The vows themselves are ancient ones, dating back to the eleventh century.
“I, Oliver Arthur, take thee, Callum Philip, to be my wedded husband.” His deep voice rasps with emotion as he repeats the celebrant’s words. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, to death us do part.”
It’s my turn to repeat the words, and I say them in the clearest voice I’ve ever used in public speaking, without a single stumble or moment of hesitation.
Because I have never been so certain about something as I am about the words coming out of my mouth right now.
Then it’s the ring exchange. I press the ring onto Oliver’s hand, aiming for a smooth motion, but it snags on his knuckle, so I have to force it the rest of the way onto his finger. I glance up to find his eyes glinting with amusement.
Oliver, of course, manages to slide my ring on smoothly while saying the words.
“With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee honor, and all my worldly goods with thee I share.”
Then it’s time for the celebrant to bind our hands together.
Oliver’s hand is warm under mine, and he meets my gaze and gives me one of his lopsided smiles, and I can’t help wondering if he’s remembering the facts about handfasting I shared with him last night, how it dates back to Celtic traditions in Ireland from nine thousand years ago and is where the phrase ‘tying the knot’ comes from.
Yes, I may have become slightly obsessed with the history of wedding rituals over the past few months.
The celebrant does his last summary, then pronounces us wedded husbands.
My breath leaves me.
I’m the future king, and I’m married to the most amazing man in the UK, potentially the world.
Yup, when I spilled wine on Emily during our date, it’s fair to say this wasn’t a potential future I envisioned.
