Draped in white gardenias and ivy, the cathedral is packed, and anyone who’s anybody is watching as we stand before the minister. Even Viscount Connor is here with his new fiancée Lady Margo.
Dressed in his church finery, Lord Ryker’s eyes are all over me, taking in my white lace dress, the way the neckline plunges just so.
He wants me. He always has.
“My lord, do you take Lady Penelope of Magnolia to be your lawfully wedded wife?” asks the minister.
“I do. She’s mine,” he says in his husky, deep voice. “Since the moment I saw her.”
The minister turns to me. “My lady, do you take The Duke of Waylon to be your husband?”
I gaze up at him, and my heart knows it’s home. “I’ll have no one else,” I say softly.
The End
