A March Bride (A Year of Weddings 1 #4)(9)
“And what if I refuse to accept it?”
He swallowed hard, the sudden jerk of his heartbeat stomping on his next breath. “Then we . . . Are you saying you refuse?”
“I’m asking, what happens if I do?”
Their gazes locked. Anxiety pulsed in Nathaniel’s ears. He was going to lose her. Nothing short of abdicating his throne could keep her.
Was he willing to give up his throne and kingdom, his five-hundred-year heritage and destiny, for her love? Could he do what he was asking her to do?
“Susanna, I’ve not thought that far, if you must know.” Oh, liar. He’d thought of nothing else. But he needed more time to consider his own response.
Across the room, the ring of her phone pierced the air. She broke away from his arm. “It’s Mama’s ring tone. We’ve been trying to connect all week but keep missing each other. I need to answer this.”
“Of course.” A break in the tension was a relief.
Nathaniel fell against the windowsill, watching the only woman who ever made his heart resound with love answer her phone and greet her mum with a soft, sweet Southern twang.
He loved the way her words bent and swayed, putting him in mind of Spanish moss swinging from craggy live oak branches on a balmy Georgia evening.
Oh Susanna . . .
Yes, Mama, I heard you . . .” Susanna collapsed to the sofa, absorbing Mama’s news about Granny. Pneumonia. Can’t travel to Brighton for the wedding.
She truly had to give up everything. First the man she loved was telling her she must sacrifice her American citizenship in order to be with him. Now Mama was telling her Granny could not travel? What next?
“Gracie’s here too,” Mama said. “She’s got something to tell you.”
Please let it be good news. Susanna listened to the muffled sounds of Mama handing the phone to her matron of honor and best friend since elementary school.
“Hey, Suz.”
“Hey, Gracie. How’s the baby?”
When Gracie and Ethan married in October, they were set to sail around the world until she found out she was pregnant with a honeymoon baby. So they weighed anchor on St. Simons and charted a new course.
“Good, sort of . . . I’m on bed rest.”
Susanna rocked forward. “Bed rest? What happened?”
Gracie detailed her situation as if she were reading from a menu.
Complications. Spotting. Contractions. Want to give the baby a fighting chance. Doctor said she couldn’t be on her feet for more than an hour a day. “So Marlee, God bless her, is running the salon for me. She’s such a gem.”
“If you can’t be on your feet, then you can’t travel.” It wasn’t a question. It was a cold, stark revelation. Gracie’s news mingled with Mama’s and Nathaniel’s, creating a cold, chilling cocktail of disappointment in her belly.
Here she was about to marry a king, and she wasn’t even close to having her dream wedding.
Watchman Abbey, while stunningly beautiful, was not the sweet haven of Christ Church where she’d dreamed of having her wedding since she was twelve. She loved the ancient church, and never stepped on the lush grounds without feeling the presence of the Divine.
On top of Granny and Gracie, Susanna had learned in the last two months that her best college buddies, who had all made a pact to attend each other’s weddings, could not come. Not one of the seven. Careers, babies, fear of flying over the Atlantic . . . they had their many reasons for not RSVPing “Attending.”
She mentally scanned the most recent guest list she’d seen. Shoot, most of her family and extended family weren’t coming.
Instead, they all informed Mama they preferred to see Susanna and her king at the St. Simons Island reception at the end of April. Asking the kinfolk to fly all the way to Europe? Too rich for their blood.
Fine, fine, she’d see them in April. But her granny and matron of honor had to be there. They must.
Susanna felt ill. This was wrong. All wrong. And she’d best open her eyes to the signs. She refused to cling to a plan, again, that was falling apart. She’d not redo her life with Adam Peters.
“Suz? You all right?” Nathaniel’s bass voice flowed over her shoulder as he tenderly caressed her.
She shook her head, listening to Gracie apologize ten ways to Sunday, tears bubbling in her eyes.
“Did you hear me?” Gracie said.
“Yes, I heard you.” She pressed her hand under her eyes, pushing back her tears. What good were tears now? Crying would change nothing.
“I’m heartsick over this. Ethan and I have been talking for days, trying to figure a way for me to come, wondering if I should just ignore the doctor’s warning and—”
“No!” Susanna jumped up. “Don’t even think about it. The baby’s safety is more important than my wedding.”
“I—I can’t believe this . . . My best friend is not only getting married but getting married to a real honest-to-goodness king and I’m going to miss it.” Susanna heard the muffled sound of Ethan saying something in the background. “Oh right, Suz, Ethan says to tell you he’s arranged with Reverend Smith to broadcast your wedding on a big screen from the Christ Church grounds.” She chuckled. “He worked it all out by himself when he found out most of the parish wanted to watch it together. Everyone is joining in to help with food and setup. Channel 11 is even sending out a news crew.”