I paled, catching Spencer's amused expression through the haze of the veil. "Uh…"
Spencer produced two rings from the inside pocket of his jacket. He took my cold hand in his warm one, and with brisk efficiency, he slid it over the digit on my left hand. "I rather like this thing," he murmured, twisting the ring so the gems and diamonds twinkled on top. "Don't throw it into a lake or something."
I ogled the ring. With an elegant, twisted design, it swirled over two pale gemstones the color of arctic ice, and then a set of smaller diamonds studded the band. "You didn't buy this, did you?" The minister cleared his throat, and his rheumy gaze settled on me with disapproving censure. I tucked my lips in and muttered, "I mean, thanks."
With unflappable cheeriness, Spencer shoved a gold band over his own ring finger. "My, you shouldn't have, wife. It's beautiful."
"Donotcall me—"
"By the power vested in me—" the minister cut in.
Spencer grinned, and with slow deliberation, he mouthed. "Wife."
"I hate you," I hissed.
"I now pronounce you—"
Spencer leaned forward, his face angled like he might kiss me. "I love it."
"—man and wife."
The tent erupted with applause, and before the minister could even suggest it, Spencer grabbed me, hooking an arm around the small of my back and dragging me up against his body. He flicked the veil away from my face, and his eyes went brown sugar soft. "I hope you practiced your kissing skills on your hand plenty, Bee."
"You cocksuck—" I started. But then he covered my insult with his lips, slanting a kiss over my unsaid words. His lipscommanded mine, capturing them with firm, easy pressure that stole the words from my brain, too. The kiss demanded my attention, and he coaxed my mouth to dance with his, smooth and warm and far more enticing than it had any right to be.
Like I was at the bottom of the canyon, I dimly registered the enthusiastic applause and scattered whoops. Then Spencer was pulling away, smiling with a kind of self-satisfaction that made me want to scrub his face with steel wool. I tucked my lips in, my neck and cheeks growing warm with embarrassment.
No one ever talked about how awkward it was toleavea wedding ceremony. Especially when the bride was fuming mad at the groom, and a tent full of strangers were politely applauding the union but losing strength and petering out to awkward quiet. I caught sight of Knox in the front row, and his husky blue eyes were tilted down at the corners with worry. Beside him Gemma was wringing the hem of her coat, looking nervous, eyes jumping between us and Knox.
Too late to worry about me, now. It was done, minus a signature on the license. Spencer threaded my hand through his arm, and I fixated on how solid and warm he was. Even though the tent was well heated, my hands had gone numb with cold. Or shock. I wasn't sure which.
We exited through a bower of fluffy white flowers, and attendants ushered us back down the path to the open French doors. Sylvia and my dad followed behind, and I swallowed against a tight throat.
I'd done the thing, so why did it feel like there was a noose around my neck?
In a daze, I let Spencer lead me through an elegant ballroom decorated with stuffy flower arrangements and beige linen, and then we were in a small sitting room of some kind. Enormous bay windows faced the snowy mountain range, and a couple of armchairs had been placed in front of a gas fireplace. At the backof the room, a table with our marriage license and two feather pens had been set up.
Shit, we were doing this.
We came to a stop at the table, and my parents stood next to us. I hinged a wide-eyed look of mute stupor up to Spencer. He held it steadily, calm and oddly comforting with his affable presence. Then, he winked.Winked.My brows drew together slowly with renewed aggravation, but Sylvia stopped me before I could ask Spencer what the hell was so funny about this.
"Well. That was lovely. Ara?" She gestured to the paper.
The sooner we got this over with, the sooner I could go home and maybe drench myself in delusional denial. I snatched up the cheesy ballpoint feather pen, scrawled my name on the appropriate line, and tossed it down. Folding my arms, I turned to Spencer and gestured with my head for him to sign.
Spencer pulled a packet of papers out from his breast pocket instead. "I believe you wanted me to sign a separate contract, Mrs. Rook."
I'd forgotten about that. "You didn't sign it, did you?" I asked.
"No." Spencer placed a thick contract on the table. "But I took the liberty of having another one drawn up."
Silvia sighed in disgust, rolling her eyes. "This is hardly the time—"
"I wasn't finished," Spencer snapped. His voice whipped through the air, sharp and commanding. I took a step back, seeing him in a different light for the first time. With his burly arms folded and unyielding gaze on my parents, he didn't look at all like the Spencer I'd grown up with. He looked… scary.
Sylvia went stone still. "Apologies. Continue."
"You were hoping to secure a lifelong alliance between Arabella and me. Understandable, given your extreme tactics to ensure she was married." Spencer's voice had gone icepick hard, and I stared at him in silent surprise as he spoke with confidenceand a steady glare. "I'll do that. But you will give Arabella the deed to her ranch. In full."
