“Quite right, it doesn’t.” He bends, faster than I can react, pulls me forward with the hand he’s holding, and his other arm goes around my thighs.I’m over his shoulder before I know what’s happened, and he hoists me into the air. Only then does he release my hand, but his other arm is around the back of my legs.
“Fuck’ssake,Alex, put medown.”
“No.” His free hand slaps into my ass, and he doesn’t hold back. Ithurts.
He’s walking off around the house, and I know he’s heading for the veranda, where our guests are waiting. My brother. Kirsten. Alex’s parents, who I’ve met only once.
“Don’t carry me there like this.” I pound on his back, but it’s like hitting a wall.
“Stop that.” His hand spanks my ass again, so conveniently presented over his shoulder.
I gasp. My dress isn’t thick enough to offer any protection. “Put me down.”
“I would if I could trust you, but I can’t.” Another slap, and that one wasn’t earned.
“It’s bad luck for a groom to see his bride before the wedding.”
What the hell did I say that for?
“That’s nothing but superstition, and I don’t care.”
“What will your parents say if you carry me in like this?”
“Not much. My father’s quite traditional.”
Shit.
“Carrying your bride in against her will isn’ttraditional,” I argue.
“I suppose that depends how far back you go,” he says. He passes the corner of the house. “I found her,” he calls out. “Slight misunderstanding on the correct door to use, but it’s all resolved now.”
I can’t see any of the guests. All they can see of me is my ass in the air, my legs pinned by Alex. Surely the notary won’t marry us like this?
Alex carries me to the veranda and sets me gently on my feet. And somewhere, I’ve lost a shoe.
The first face I see is my brother’s, his eyebrows raised, consternation warring with amusement. Kirsten comes out of the house, staring at me in shock. Thank God they didn’t bring their kids; I would’ve felt a hundred times worse.
Alex’s parents seem to be taking it in stride. His father smirks and slides his arm around his wife.
My face is flushed. Partly from being thrown over Alex’s shoulder, partly from abject mortification.
The notary clears his throat. “¿Desea que proceda?”
“Yes, proceed,” Alex replies, tugging me against him. His fingers find the slit on my bodice and slide within, resting against bare skin. I know it’s not an accident.
The notary gives me a look, clears his throat again with more than a hint of disapproval, then speaks in Spanish. But these are words I know; I’ve had plenty of time to learn them before today.
“In accordance with the provisions of the Civil Code, we will now proceed with the celebration of the marriage.”
Celebration. Is that what this is?
“Marriage grants the same rights and obligations to both spouses.”
“Good point,” Alex murmurs.
“Don Alexander Reyes, do you consent to marry Doña Victoria Callahan?”
“I certainly do.” His voice is clear, his words strong.
