A March Bride (A Year of Weddings 1 #4)(22)

“I promise not to overreact. This is a whole new life for me, Nathaniel, but I’m ready.” She exhaled. “I’m ready.”

“But if you aren’t, we can postpone—”

She rose up on her toes and kissed him, pressing her hands against the sides of his head, weaving her fingers through the silky threads of his hair. “I don’t want to wait. In fact, I was flying home to you—”

His kiss stole her breath and invoked warm waves of passion, each crashing sensation eroding her fears and awakening her love. When he broke the magic of the moment by lifting his lips from hers, she swooned against him.

“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”

“Susanna, two years ago when we stood on this beach, right after Adam broke things off, I told you I could never marry you.” He lifted her chin, and by the way he tipped his head, she could see love reflected in his eyes by the beachside lighting. “The law prevented me. But tonight I tell you I am desperate to marry you. Even if you don’t renounce your American citizenship, I will marry you.”

“Nathaniel, your political enemies will have you for lunch.”

“And I’ll have them for dessert. I must have you in my life. I’ve no doubt the Lord brought you to me, and I’m going to trust Him for the outcome of our union. If they destroy me, then let Him see to them.”

“Funny.” She smoothed her hand over his chest. “But I was flying home to tell you I will do what you and the law ask. This morning Reverend Smith reminded me I’m more than a citizen of the US or Brighton, but a citizen of God’s kingdom.” She stepped out of his embrace, collecting her feelings, gathering them into words. “It’s like . . . wow . . . the largeness I’ve felt in my heart for the past two years, like there was something more, suddenly made sense. I’m not just Susanna Truitt, American girl, or Brighton princess, I’m a daughter of the King of Heaven.”

With each declaration of truth, joy carved a new path in her heart.

“And I’m a son of that very same kingdom.”

“So it doesn’t matter if I’m American or Brightonian as long as I’m following Him. Serving my Lord.”

“Susanna, my American love.” He dropped to one knee. “Marry me. Please.” He fumbled for something in his pocket. She smiled when the cool sensation of platinum slid down her finger.

“My ring! You found it.” She knelt in front of him.

“Rollins brought it to me. I thought I was a goner until Stephen came along and kicked me in the britches.”

“Oh, God bless Stephen. Nathaniel, I’ve been so foolish. Please forgive me—”

“Forgive me.”

“Absolutely, and yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll become a full-blown Brighton citizen. What does it matter as long as we are together?”

His kiss was tender and sweet, then ardent and passionate as he enveloped her in his arms and sank down on the beach.



When the doorbell rang in the middle of Friday afternoon, Susanna opened the door to find Jonathan, Nathaniel’s aide, standing on the veranda in knee breeches, waistcoat, cravat, and white stockings with gold buckle shoes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Milady.” The man bowed, presenting her with a sealed envelope. “An invitation from the king. I will await your reply.”

“When did you get here?” She took the envelope, flipping it over to see the back. It was plain and white, but composed of thick, pressed linen. “We’re meeting for dinner at six. What’s this about?”

“Does the lady wish me to read the invitation for her?”

Susanna laughed. This was over the top. “No, the lady does not.”

“Suz, who’s at the door?” Avery shoved in next to her, pressing her shoulder against the doorjamb. “Jonathan, dude, Halloween isn’t for seven months. But kicking costume.”

“Whatever do you mean?” He speared her with a long, hard gaze. “I’m delivering a missive for His Royal Highness, King Nathaniel II.”

“A missive? Well, la-te-da.” Avery draped her arm over Susanna’s shoulder and tapped the invitation. “What does the missive say?”

Susanna turned toward the living room as she tugged the stiff stock card from the envelope. Inside was an elegant invitation engraved in navy script.





It would be my honor

if you would join me

this evening

7:00 p.m.





Goose bumps ran down her arms and tingled over her scalp as she studied the words, trying to read between the lines. “Jon, what’s he up to?” she said, returning to the door. “Join him for what?”

“What answer shall I give His Majesty?” Jonathan remained in character, stiff and unemotional, keeping his eyes fixed on the far corner of the veranda. Yet he was not quite able to hide the twitch on the edge of his lips.

“Tell him yes, but just exactly for what will I be joining him?”

Jon snapped his fingers at a nearby SUV with tinted windows. Liam popped out wearing his customary dark suit—thank goodness, something that made sense in this scene—carrying a large box tied with an enormous purple bow. He dashed up the steps to hand it to Susanna.