On a somber sigh, I turn to face my newly-wed husband so that he can lift my veil and kiss me to seal this twisted pact with the devil in God’s house. However, I’m at a loss when he takes longer to do it. I’m about to turn around to look at my brother for directions, when Tiernan stops me from moving an inch by grabbing hold of my hands in his. My heart does the unthinkable and flips of its own accord at the tenderness of his grip. I lick my dry lips and patiently wait while he lets go of my hands in favor of pulling back my veil. And as my veil lifts higher, so does my vision of him become clearer.
And what a vision it is.
The man is exquisite.
His hands now look tiny compared to the larger than life persona that stands before me. In all black, from top to bottom, he looks like Hades himself. Unfortunately for me, this Greek tragedy won’t allow me to return home come springtime. I’m to be his captive all year round.
My surprise at how handsome he is must amuse him because there is a little tug on his lips, a smirk at my stunned state. And what a pair of lips this man has. Full and perfectly drawn, like two soft pillows you would like nothing more than to lie your head on. With a strong, masculine square jaw and defined cheekbones, he has all the traits of a living, breathing Irish god. As my gaze continues to travel up his face, my chest tightens when I finally get a good look at his eyes. An unfamiliar warmth begins to trickle down my spine as I become mesmerized by them. One blue eye and one green eye stare back at me with the same unrestrained curiosity, making my cheeks flush crimson.
My lips part to say something, anything that will give me back the upper hand, but it all dissipates when Tiernan’s hand softly cups my left cheek and brings my lips to touch his. Without my consent, my lids close shut and I marvel how a man who has been groomed to take lives can breathe life into me with such soft, demanding lips. It’s only when my hand finds purchase on his chest to steady the unstable ground at my feet that Tiernan’s mouth pulls away from mine, leaving me oddly destitute and wanting.
I’m brought back to reality when loud cheers and applause break out, reminding me that the first time I ever set eyes on my husband—the first time he kissed me—was witnessed by a large audience of strangers.
I swallow my embarrassment down and take a step back to gather my composure. Tiernan offers me his arm, the little smug smile on his lips no longer visible; in its place is a no-nonsense expression. I take his lead and link my arm through his, making sure my own facial features have turned to stone. As we take our first steps as husband and wife, I can’t shake the ominous feeling that this man will be my ruin in more ways than one.
My lips still burn from his kiss, and I wonder if the people standing at their pews can see the imprint he left on them.
Inwardly, I curse my inexperience when it comes to the opposite sex. If I had spent my youth kissing a bunch of frogs, then when the Irish king laid a kiss on my lips, it wouldn’t have left such an impression on me.
Unfortunately, not many men were brave enough to kiss a cartel princess already promised to the Irish mob boss. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve kissed someone. I’m sure my husband hasn’t suffered the same affliction.
Husband.
The word lies heavy on my tongue.
More like a jailer.
Imprisoned to a life so far from the reality I’ve experienced.
My new home is cold and grey compared to the warmth Mexico provided. Even the air feels different here. Arctic. Much like the man leading me out of the church, I presume.
The limo I arrived in waits at the curb, and like the gentleman he’s not, Tiernan makes no move to open the door for me, but waits for the chauffeur to do it for him. My cheeks blaze in resentment as our wedding party witnesses the subtle insult, resulting in little snickers of amusement at my expense.
“Gracias,” I thank the driver, keeping my wide smile front and center as he ushers and helps me into the backseat.
The minute I’m inside, my smile drops. I turn my head towards the window, not wanting to see the faces of our guests, much less the man I just married. The car door slams a few seconds later, resulting in Tiernan’s looming presence eating up the oxygen in the small confines. I shift closer to the window as he gives a little knock on the partition, his way of telling the driver to head to our reception.
I count the beats of my heart, willing it to slow down, and quell my unexpected rising temper. Compared to my brothers, I’ve never really been known to have a foul temper to speak of. Rationally, I shouldn’t even be mad at Tiernan for the minor snub. Maybe the real reason I’m aggravated is that in the few minutes I’ve known him, he has been able to stir up unfamiliar feelings in me that I’m not too comfortable with.