Page 115 of Sins of a King
I took it and stared at it for a moment before opening it. It wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t what I expected at all. My eyes filled with tears as I stared at the most beautiful, delicate filigree wedding band I had ever seen.
“It was my mother’s,” he explained.
I looked up. His face was filled with emotion.
“It’s perfect.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “I thought…for some reason, you’d want to give me something…”
“Gaudy and ostentatious?”
“Something like that,” I admitted with a sheepish smile.
He touched my cheek. “I thought this would mean more to you.”
I brought my hand to cover his. “It means everything.”
I smoothed the skirt of the gorgeous A-line white dress. It had a demure sweetheart neckline and straps that tied behind my back. Red kitten heels completed the outfit that I’d found in one of the hotel’s boutiques. I’d managed to style my hair in a classic pin-up ’do, with big sweeping curls that brushed my shoulders. My makeup was simple, my lips a bright cherry red. In my haste to pack, I’d forgotten jewelry.
“Barrett?” Flynn asked, knocking on the dressing room door. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I called.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
“Open up. Let me in.”
I didn’t know if he meant the dressing room or something else. I sighed and flipped the lock. He closed the door and leaned against it, looking at me in my wedding dress.
“You’re perfect,” he said simply.
I took him in—he was dressed in a pressed three-piece gray suit with a skinny black tie. He looked incredible, his shoulders broad, his dark hair combed off his forehead. I wanted to lay my head against his broad chest and let him ease the wave of sadness that surged up inside me.
“What is it, hen?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why do you call me ‘hen’?”
“You don’t like it?”
“I love it.”
He smiled and it made my pulse race. “I’m Scottish, aye?”
“Aye,” I agreed.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said.
“No one’s here,” I stated. “Ash or Malcolm. Those we care about…” I had no family to walk me down the aisle—not after I’d cut off my brother. My wedding day was making me sad and lonely, and that wasn’t what a wedding day was supposed to be.
He cradled my cheeks in his hands. “I hate that I’m marrying you like this. I wanted to give you a real wedding with friends and family but…”
I put my hand over his mouth to stop him. “I’m marrying you, Flynn. Here, now. Maybe, one day, we can have a reception and invite all our loved ones to celebrate with us. Because that’s what it should be—a celebration.”
He smiled softly. “You really do love me, don’t you?”
