Chapter 9
Marcus’s hurry when they were in Montana turned into patience when they reached Las Vegas. Cecily had assumed they would find the first available wedding chapel and head to a hotel, but she was wrong.
“Here is my credit card,” he said as he handed her a tiny rectangle marked “Platinum.” “I want you to buy a dress and whatever else you need. Get your hair and makeup done and anything else you want.” He turned to go.
“Where are you going?” she asked in a sudden panic. Was he having second thoughts?
He turned back to her with a smile. “I’m going to plan our wedding.” He pressed his palm to her cheek, and then he was gone.
She stared after him with a loopy grin on her face.
“That’s a fine looking hunk of man meat.” The woman who had spoken looked official, as if she worked for the store, so Cecily was surprised by her words. She didn’t disagree, though.
“Yes he is.”
“How long have you two been together?”
Cecily checked her watch. “About four hours.”
The woman laughed. “One of those couples. Don’t worry; we get that a lot. I suppose you’ll need the works.”
“I have no idea what the works are, but since I came here with the clothes I’m wearing, I think you’re probably right.”
The woman laughed again and took her hand. “Right this way. What’s your name?”
“Lee,” Cecily answered impulsively.
“Lee,” the woman repeated. “I’m Angela, and I’ll be at your beck and call today, more because I saw your fiancé flash a platinum card than because I actually like you.” She winked at Cecily to let her know she was kidding.
By the end of the day, Cecily thought Angela was amazing. She somehow found a wedding dress that perfectly suited Cecily’s coloring and style and then had it tailored so it looked like it was made for her. She set her up with a stylist who did her hair and makeup, then outfitted her with lingerie and clothes for the next three days. She also loaded a cosmetic bag with all the toiletries and makeup Cecily would need. It had been so long since she went shopping that she wanted to weep with the joy of it all. Instead she hugged Angela tightly and kissed her cheek.
“Can I keep you?” she asked.
“Only if we can share your hunky man,” Angela said.
Cecily laughed and let her go. “See you later, stranger.”
When Marcus arrived she was waiting in the lobby, wearing her beautiful dress and holding her two new suitcases.
He whistled appreciatively and she stared with the same appreciation. He was wearing a tuxedo and carrying a beautiful bouquet of flowers, which he presented to her before he kissed her.
“Ready?” he asked. The question was loaded, and she knew he was giving her the opportunity to change her mind.
“I’m ready,” she said, laying her hand on his arm to stop him. “Are you ready? Are you sure you don’t want to wait until your family can join us? I hate to take your marriage away from them. They should be here, I think.”
He rested his hand on hers. “They’ve gone through so much lately. I don’t think they’re up to the public spectacle of a wedding, and I don’t want to wait until they are. I want to be with you. Today.”
Her heart fluttered at his bluntness. She had a moment’s hesitation, not because she doubted her feelings, but because she doubted his. Was this simply lust on his part, or a desire to acquire what he couldn’t have? After the ceremony would he find an excuse to have it annulled and toss her away like yesterday’s garbage? She wasn’t sure she knew him well enough to answer that question. But she did know she wanted to be with him as much as or more than he wanted to be with her. It was a start, and for now she hoped it would be enough.
She took a step toward the door, but this time he was the one to halt her. “What about your family? Do you want them to be here?”
She thought about that. She wanted her father to walk her down the aisle, as she had always dreamed, but he had eight years left on his prison sentence. There was no way she was going to wait that long. Dante would make a nice substitute, but a public wedding might stir up the controversy surrounding her family. Especially if she married a Henshaw. She wouldn’t do that to them.
“No,” she said with certainty. “I want it like this.”
He nodded, took her hand, and twined their fingers together. Out of nowhere she had the thought that this was the first time they had ever held hands in such a manner, and in a few short minutes he would be her husband.
Am I crazy? she asked herself. The answer was an unequivocal yes, but she still couldn’t stop. She wanted to marry Marcus right now, and if there were repercussions, she would deal with them as they arose.
He led her to a chapel decorated tastefully with flowers to match her bouquet. He had also rented a limousine and hired a photographer.
She bit her lip as she looked around the flower-strewn chapel, and he noticed.
“What?” he asked.
“I feel bad that you’re footing the bill for our wedding.”
He smiled. “Do you know how easily I’m getting off? If we had a traditional wedding, I would have to foot the bill for a rehearsal dinner that would probably cost more than this wedding.”
“Still,” she said, nervously nibbling her thumb.
He took her hand and held it. “Stop worrying and stop being so proud. You’re almost my wife. What’s mine is yours now.”
“Something tells me that if the shoe was on the other foot and I was the one paying all the bills you wouldn’t be happy.”
“That’s because I’m a man. I’m supposed to provide for you.”
Their names were called before she could protest. Certainly he didn’t expect her to observe the traditional role of a woman and stay at home to raise babies. Maybe someday she would be content in that capacity, but right now she had a ranch and a business to run.
She walked down the aisle and tried not to be sad that she wasn’t on her father’s arm. The photographer took dozens of pictures of her progress.
At the front of the chapel Marcus stood smiling brilliantly. Right now he looked like he had forever on his mind, and Cecily stored the vision away for later inspection.
“Do you, Marcus Dylan Henshaw take this Cecily Alandra Jacinta Diaz Blake to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the preacher said.
Marcus smiled. “So long as I never have to memorize her name, then yes.”
The preacher stifled a laugh, cleared his throat, and continued. “And do you Cecily Alandra Jacinta Diaz Blake take this Marcus Dylan Henshaw to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
There was a pregnant pause while Cecily searched her heart and mind once more. “I do,” she said. Marcus sagged slightly in relief.
“Repeat after me,” the minister said, and then stated their vows. They each repeated his words and Marcus slipped a ring on her finger. She was momentarily stunned by the largess of the diamond and platinum band. For a second she felt bad he had purchased his own wedding ring, but when she slipped it on his finger and felt the light caress of his hand against hers, she forgot everything else.
“By the power vested in me by the city of Las Vegas and the state of Nevada, I now declare you man and wife. Marcus, you may kiss your bride.”
“Cecily Alandra Jacinta Diaz Blake Henshaw,” Marcus muttered, and then he kissed her.