A March Bride (A Year of Weddings 1 #4)(25)

“No apology needed when I’ve been acting like a fool.” She kissed his cheek, then stretched to see around the square post of the portico. “Besides, friends speak the truth to friends.”

“Susanna.” Jonathan stepped away from her. “I’m going to leave you now. But wait here.” He pointed his finger at her. “Your prince will come.”



Nathaniel waited for Susanna to arrive in the so-called foyer of this outdoor sanctuary, wearing his grandfather’s World War II uniform.

All afternoon, he vacillated between calm and panic, white-hot nerves assailing his confidence. He didn’t fare well with his last public proclamation of love, but he knew he had to break free of his fear and shame.

And in his heart of hearts, he knew Susanna was the one to help him shed his shackles.

His heart skipped a beat as the clatter of horses rang in his ears and the black carriage flashed past the trees.

Through the shrubbery and swaying Spanish moss, he caught a glimpse of Susanna.

It had taken a Herculean effort not to ring her today. But if he heard her voice, he knew he’d want to see her. And if he saw her, he’d spoil his surprise.

So he purported to have king’s business to attend. Which, in fact, he did, but really, he fussed about with busy work to keep his heart from going insane while waiting for this evening to come.

If she said yes to this wild idea, they’d be married by sunset. Man and wife.

Susanna’s family, along with his staff, had worked half the night and through the day to create an outdoor cathedral for this spontaneous dream wedding.

Behind him, a hundred or so guests were seated in white wooden chairs while a sixteen-piece orchestra gathered from island residents played “Air” from Bach’s Suite no.3.

Nathaniel’s heart swelled with each stroke of the violin’s bow.

The moment Susanna crested the portico, he had nearly buckled with the power of her beauty. It caused his heart to stumble in ways he never thought possible. Susanna was more than a vision standing there in a pale mauve gown; she was the essence of his soul.

Beautiful, yes, but she was also wise and kind, loving, considerate, devoted, and loyal. The kind of woman a king needed beside him.

His breathing shallowed as Jonathan headed down the brick path to his station by the wedding altar, smiling at Nathaniel and offering him a salute.

That was Nathaniel’s cue to move forward to his bride.

The Bach piece peaked on a high note, then gently swooned toward Pachelbel’s Canon in D, Susanna’s favorite wedding music.

Nathaniel smiled, making his way to her. Her posture and presence, paired with the blue intensity of her eyes and the way her lips parted when she saw him, nearly brought him to his knees. Heaven help him, he was trapped with no way out.

“Hello, love,” he said, taking her hands into his.

“Hey, yourself.” Low, sweet, an inviting warmth in every syllable.

“A surprise.” He gestured toward the outdoor sanctuary. “Your dream wedding. If you’ll have me.”

“Oh Nathaniel, you didn’t—” Susanna’s voice quivered and her eyes misted. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Susanna Jean Truitt . . .” Nathaniel drew her close. “Will you marry me tonight? I realize the past few months in Brighton have been trying. You’ve done more than your fair share of changing and coming to my side. I stand here now at your side. I love you for who and what you are. Your American heart is more precious to me than anything else. I need you to know I see your heart.”

“I know you do. I do . . . Nathaniel, I can’t believe you did this.” Tears pooled in her eyes. Her glistening, pink lower lip trembled in time with the hovering note of the strings. “Of course I’ll marry you. But I didn’t need all of this to know you are by my side. I was just clinging to my old self, my old plan.” She made a face and he laughed.

“Then this is for me. To prove to you that I adore you, love you, and am devoted to you above my crown and kingdom. You are my heart. I’ve a duty to my family, to my country, but even more, I have a duty to my God to love you as I love myself. This is for me.” He grinned. “I want to marry the American woman who bewitched me under Lovers’ Oak the moment I laid eyes on her.” He squeezed her hands. “This is our day. Just you and me, with our friends and families. Let our Brighton wedding be about the crown and the kingdom, but this, love, is all about us.” He reached for one of her curls, brushing his fingers lightly over her neck. “You take my breath away.”

She fell into him, raising her eyes to his. “I’ll marry you, Nathaniel, tonight, here in Brighton, anywhere, anytime.” He brushed away her tears with a light touch of his fingertips. “God’s got this, doesn’t He? How can I be so narrow to always want things my way?”

“I’ll help you overcome your fears if you help me overcome mine.” He tipped his head toward the waiting guests. “Let’s dry your tears.” He reached in his breast pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her.

She laughed through another surge of tears. “My other grandma’s wedding handkerchief.” She pressed it to her nose. “I can still smell her perfume.”

“Your daddy gave it to me so she could be with us in spirit.” He kissed her forehead while drawing a gift from his jacket. A gift he’d moved heaven and earth to have finished and shipped in time for tonight.