A March Bride (A Year of Weddings 1 #4)(26)

“What’s this you’re wearing?” She brushed her hand over his grandfather’s white, fine wool naval jacket and medals.

“Grandfather’s World War II uniform. Mum’s dad. He was a naval commander and wore this very uniform at his wedding.” Nathaniel drew a heart-shaped diamond pendant from his pocket. The flawless stones absorbed the white glow of the lights draped through the shadows of the trees, creating pale orbs against his skin. “I was going to give this to you on our wedding day in Brighton, but it’s fitting now. American or not, Susanna, you are my wife, my princess, and . . .” He motioned to the intricate design inside the heart-shaped pendant. “Your cipher. See?” He paused, clearing his throat.

“Nathaniel, it’s exquisite.” Susanna trembled with her fingers over her lips.

“Your official title is engraved here.” Nathaniel turned the piece over. “HRH Crown Princess Susanna of Brighton Kingdom.”

“Princess. Wow, there it is.” She laughed softly through her tears. “And what’s this?” she whispered, touching the delicate key ornament attached to the chain.

“The key to my heart.” The full force of his feelings for her burst to the surface and threatened to overpower him. “A sign of my promise to put you first, before the kingdom, before my duties as king, to the best of my weak, human ability. Only the Lord will come before you. It’s the only way I can be any kind of good husband and decent king.” He steadied his heart and slowly moved to clasp the piece around her neck. It couldn’t have a more beautiful home.

The sparkle in her eyes rivaled the brilliance of the diamond necklace.

When he stood before her again, she hooked her hands over his arms. “I give you everything, babe. My heart, body, soul, and citizenship. When I get afraid that life is beyond my control, I will remember this moment and say, ‘See what God can do.’ ”

“Let’s not keep the guests waiting any longer.” He offered her his arm.

“Not another moment.” Her smile beamed light across the entire church grounds.

Nathaniel signaled to Jonathan, who then cued the orchestra to play Pachelbel’s Canon again. Gracie and Avery rose from their front row seats and stood on the bride’s side of the altar wearing pink dresses of some kind.

On the groom’s side, Stephen wore his Royal Air Force uniform while Colin sported an Armani suit sent along by the designer himself. With his compliments.

As the guests stood and Nathaniel started down the aisle, Susanna drew back. “Wait, wait, wait . . .”

His beating heart screeched to a halt.

“Is this legal? Babe, we don’t have a license for Georgia.”

“See the man on the front row?” Nathaniel’s heart started beating again. “He’s from the county clerk’s office. All we have to do is sign the license and we’re legally married.”

“Before we are officially married in Brighton?”

“That will be the case, yes.”

“Nathaniel, are you sure?”

He brushed a sweet, free strand of hair from her eyes. “One hundred percent.”

She tiptoed up as if she might kiss him and wrapped her arms about his neck. “I am yours forever, Nate Kenneth.”

“And I am forever yours.”





In all her born days, Susanna knew she never could have planned or even dreamed of such a night as this. From the moment she slipped on Granny’s dress for her “evening” with Nathaniel to the ceremony at Christ Church, everything was perfect.

Maybe beyond perfect because she had expected none of it.

Granny had rejoiced to see her walk down the aisle in her dress. When Susanna arrived at the end of the aisle, she bent to give her a kiss.

“I knew I couldn’t miss this wedding.” Granny raised her thin, weak hand to Susanna’s cheek. “You look prettier in that gown than I ever did.”

“And my granddaughter will look prettier than me.”

Granny kissed her cheek. “He’s a good one, that king. Keep hold of him.”

Now, sitting at their head table for two on the ocean side of the cottage’s garden, Susanna leaned against Nathaniel as Mickey, the Rib Shack’s Irish singer, serenaded them from a corner spot on the white stone-and-tile veranda.

The cottage garden was ablaze with clear lights swinging from the trees along with an array of Japanese lanterns hovering above the long pink-and-burgundy-covered tables with vases of white roses and lilies.

The breeze hustled past, dancing with the lights and lanterns, leaving behind a sweet, sea foam perfume.

“Happy?” Nathaniel draped his arm around the back of her chair as he whispered in her ear.

“I don’t have words,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “I feel both proud and humbled. You made me happy. Not to mention Granny and Gracie. No small feat for any man to make three women happy in one night.”

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “Remember when you sat on my veranda steps two years ago and stared out at this cottage’s dead, dry garden? You had no idea you were really gazing into my dead, dry heart. I saw weeds, but you saw possibilities and life. Not for this garden, but for me. You reminded me of who I was and am, and who really called me to be a king. God, not men.”