Chapter Four #3
Gustav found himself transfixed as Livia slowly walked down the aisle.
The front of her hair was piled on the top of her head, woven into the tiara, and the back cascaded down in ripples over her shoulders.
The silky white dress clung to her and trailed behind her in a river of white that shimmered in waves that undulated around her.
She was a sea goddess, and he wanted to touch her, to remind himself this was real.
He wanted to feel the soft material and the warmth of her body underneath.
A sensation rose up inside him, one that he had thought long buried. One he chose to call desire.
Before, when she was sitting placidly next to him in the car, in her demure, well-tailored dress, he’d had to search her gaze for traces of the girl he had known.
Now, as she slowly walked toward the altar, he found what he had been looking for.
Her chin was up, proud with a hint of defiance, and though she had been done up to look every bit the princess that she was about to become, there was a hint of the wildness he remembered in her eyes, part of her that had refused to be tamed.
But the parts he recognized were mixed with something new, something more mature.
He saw a confidence, a sensuality that placed her as far older than seventeen years old.
He was allowed to desire this woman, he reminded himself. Today she would become his wife.
But all they had was today. When he revealed the last of his plans, she would likely never speak to him again.
As soon as they were married—as soon as Gustav had taken control of Livia’s dowry—he would publicly expose his father’s excesses.
And if the public shame didn’t ensure his father’s spending habits would change, Parliament would be forced to take measures to curb his father’s power.
But the king would fight back publicly with every tactic he had.
There was a decent chance Gustav would lose his royal status—and an even greater chance Livia would never want to speak to him again.
But the marriage arrangement was always meant to be temporary.
Their lives would be intertwined for life, and he wanted her to spend a good part of that regretting how she’d turned on him.
But before he shut her out and walked away, he would make her want him.
He would make her ache for him the way he had ached.
There was no reason to feel guilty about that, he told himself.
He was doing what his country required of him.
As well as avenging her rejection of him at the same time. That part of the plan was personal.
Gustav’s thoughts jumped so easily to his arguments for why he was acting quite fairly, far within the bounds of the power game they were all playing.
But for now, it was time to put that aside and let himself feel the attraction he had denied himself since he’d walked into her apartment a few hours before.
He let himself study the way her dress slid over her hips.
He let himself be mesmerized by the way the train that followed behind her cascaded down the steps like a waterfall.
Livia came to stop next to him, and her gaze lifted to his.
Her eyes were a dark green that made him feel as if he were looking back in time.
But it wasn’t just a past version of her that he saw in her eyes.
He was remembering what it felt like to be Gustav af Isborg eight years ago, when possibilities seemed so much more open.
When he and Livia still existed outside the complications of the real world and he had dreamed that there was a future far away from the confines of the life his title dictated. A life where she accepted him.
She furrowed her brow a little as if she were asking him a question. In this moment, he wanted the answer to be yes.
The priest began to speak, reminding him of where they were and what came next. Blessings were recited, but all Gustav could think about was his consuming ache for her.
The priest moved on to the vows, and Livia’s voice was light and musical as she recited them in his mother tongue, the language that was not her native French.
Then it was Gustav’s turn. But when the priest spoke of love and honor and cherishing, he hesitated.
He could promise none of this. Gustav swallowed back his discomfort and forced himself to continue.
The priest presented them with rings, and Livia’s fingers trembled as she slipped the hard, endless band onto his finger.
And when he held her hand in his, he couldn’t help but stare at the engagement ring his assistant had delivered to the bridal cottage.
In all his preparations, he had decided it was excessive and unnecessary to select one himself.
Now Gustav was entirely dissatisfied with the uneasy sense that he shouldn’t have delegated that task.
Not that it mattered, he told himself, as she would likely throw it away tomorrow.
But in this moment, he wanted the illusion that this was real.
Livia was looking down at the ring on her finger, too, but if the same thought had occurred to her, she didn’t let on.
After a few more blessings and many more admonishments dressed up as blessings, the priest said, “You may kiss.”
She looked up at him, and the endless seas of green in her eyes sparkled brighter.
He lowered his mouth to hers, so lush and ripe, and he brushed his lips against her lips, just a graze, testing what she would do.
It was a temptation. She brought her hand to his chest, and his body lit up with the fire he had kept so tightly contained, a fire that threatened to explode.
Still, he brought his hand to her slim neck and pressed his lips to hers again.
She parted her mouth, and he tasted mint and roses, and in that moment, eight years of longing and desire swept over him.
It was a storm that stirred up long-buried memories, whipping them into a miasma of desire and need.
But he would not lose control. Not here. Not now.
He pulled back, and she looked up at him, her eyes unfocused, filled with questions he wasn’t ready to answer.
The priest cleared his throat and declared, “For now and into eternity, you are one.”