Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Martin
I trip over my feet and slam my thigh into a wooden pew, nearly tumbling with the angel on my arm while doing the most terrifically terrible job of leading Eden down the pink aisle toward the altar the next evening.
The rows of seated guests collectively gasp, and my face flames with mortification.
Thankfully, James doesn’t seem to notice because he’s staring over our heads, waiting for his bride.
“Steady, my lady,” I say to Eden, my voice cracking all the more embarrassingly when I catch her around her soft and glorious middle after making her stumble. Her hip curves divinely where it presses into mine.
“Thank you, my lord,” Eden whispers, leaning into me instead of away.
Eden’s attention and playful manner are a pleasure unlike any other.
As is the incredible luck bestowed upon me by the wedding coordinator, who paired Eden and me to walk down the aisle together.
I should be thanking Eden for allowing a simpleton, such as I, the exquisite opportunity to so much as breathe near her, and for each lovely utterance of “my lord” when she addresses me instead of keeping her distance as Isaiah does Bailey.
Eden is the first in a long while not to be “weirded out” by my “extreme nerdiness” as Shayla’s youngest sister, Autumn, repeatedly claims James, Isaiah, and I are during game nights at her house with her dad.
Speaking of the devil, over our shoulders, Autumn whispers, “Y’all are so weird.”
Poor Isaiah. The wedding coordinator paired him with Shayla’s sisters, their elbows hooked over his, one on each side.
“They’re not weird,” Bailey says a little too loudly. When I peek back, I see she has her small chin tipped up to lovingly gaze at Isaiah. “He’s perfect.”
Poor, poor Isaiah.
Seeing Bailey’s unrequited and disturbing infatuation with Isaiah firsthand is a sobering reminder of my age and Eden’s.
Though Shayla made it well known at the end of her rehearsal dinner that Eden is eighteen and single, I’ve been grappling with the age difference since I first laid eyes on the angel.
I had to make a swift exit after meeting Eden to hide my infatuation when she called me “Lord Martin.” Splashing cold water on my face, however, did nothing to rid the blush from my cheeks.
I duck my head, using my shoulder-length curls for a shield, steering Lady Eden farther down the aisle.
Finally arriving at our destination after only a few more missteps, I find it quite difficult to part with her.
But part we must, though my eyes never leave her as we stand on opposite sides of the stage.
“Let go, B,” Isaiah hisses, trying to shake Bailey’s hand off so he may join me at James’s side.
Miranda tsks and jumps up from her seat at the front pew, jogging forward to forcefully pull her daughter away by the shoulders. “Remember what we talked about on the ride here?”
Bailey’s face falls to a pout, her silvery-blue eyes turning watery. As if by some magic though, she straightens and gifts her mother with a sly smile before twirling away and up the three steps onto the stage beside Autumn.
My Lady Eden’s rich brown eyes meet mine from across the divide.
I’m once again struck by the beauty of her round cheeks, shy smile, and gorgeous brown waves that hang loose and stop just above her breasts—which I have not once allowed myself a peek of so as not to sully her innocence with my lustful gaze.
As Sherman leads Shayla down the aisle to join James, my attention remains on Eden, and continues to do so while Shayla and James recite their vows.
I don’t hear a word they say, blood rushing fast in my ears with the sweet anticipation of holding Eden once more when it’s time to make our way back down the aisle.
“My lady,” I whisper, crooking my elbow when I leave the stage. I stop just short of bowing to her in front of the audience. “Shall we?”
“Yes, we shall, my lord,” she says, slipping her hand under my arm, turning to beam at the wedding guests while I beam at the profile of her lovely, too-young face.
With my hands shoved in my black suit pants, I putter around the long table reserved for those in the wedding party, while James and Shayla have their first dance as husband and wife.
I subtly track Eden as she skirts the dance floor to sit at a round table draped in a pink tablecloth toward the right of the venue.
It would be hard enough being so far from her if she’d chosen to sit at the reserved table, her beside Shayla and me on the opposite side with James.
But it’s even harder to bear that she’s chosen to sit with her mother, who had watched her precious granddaughter, Ivy, during the wedding.
“Go sit and talk to her, man,” Isaiah says above the music, bumping my shoulder, as James and Shayla slowly shuffle, their limbs wrapped tight around each other.
Ah, so I wasn’t all that subtle.
“I can’t,” I say, adjusting my pink bow tie patterned with polyhedral dice yet again. I’m not used to wearing such tight, stuffy clothes, preferring a loose tunic and soft trousers, though I rarely wear them out in public, considering the strange looks I get.
When a server passes with a tray of drinks, Isaiah takes a tumbler and a healthy sip of the amber liquid. “Why not?”
“She’s too young,” I tell him, putting up a hand to let the server know I’m passing on the alcohol. The last thing I need is to let alcohol lower my inhibitions and do something cosmically embarrassing like dropping to my knees, right here in front of everyone, to worship at the feet of Lady Eden.
“She’s eighteen. Could be worse,” Isaiah grumbles, turning his back on Bailey, who’s staring dreamily from across the dance floor, thankfully held back by her mother and Autumn.
“I’d jump at the chance to talk to her if I wasn’t certain Bailey would concoct some scheme to poison her food. ” He shudders.
I look up at him sharply, as he towers above me, and then to Bailey, reminded of the mental daggers she’d thrown at Eden throughout dinner last night.
It’s not me she’s after, thank all that is holy, but I certainly have my reservations.
I move briskly around the dance floor to hover at Eden’s table, a knight standing guard between his lady and any foes who may face her.
“Would you like to dance?” I blurt at Eden, interrupting her conversation with her mother mid-sentence.
My face burns when the two women turn as one to gape at me.
I hadn’t meant to ask. Nor had I meant to bow so deeply, as I find myself doing now.
Turns out, I don’t need a drop of alcohol to lose all my senses.
My head swims as I jackknife up, looking around the room wildly for an exit.
Eden passes Ivy to her mother and stands with a shy smile. “I would love to.”
“Really?” I tug at my bow tie with surprise and cough to clear my throat.
“I meant, really?” I ask just as sharply.
Good god, man, get a hold of yourself. I take a long, deep breath through my nose and squeeze my eyes shut—I’ve humiliated myself so deeply.
My voice only cracks once when I say, “I meant, thank you, my lady. It would be my honor.”
“Mine too…” Her voice drops low as she turns away from her mother and says, “My lord.”
Eden takes my hand with a little giggle when I present it to her, and my shoulders, which had been hiked up to my ears, slowly loosen as I lead her toward the middle of the dance floor.
The world around me slowly fades, and I’m scarcely aware of the other couples as I stare into the eyes of my angel, the material of her pink bridesmaid’s gown so soft beneath my hand on her pleasantly rounded waist.