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And then it was time to kiss his bride.

He stepped forward and, without thinking, lifted his hand to cup her cheek once more.

Immediately, her eyes darkened. And when they did, he could feel it. Like her hands on his skin and he could feel his cock respond, hardening instantly.

Oh yes, he wanted her. His Queen. His wife.

He leaned down, fully aware of the way she flushed because he could feel it against his palm even as he saw it on her lovely face.

And there, in the full view of the kingdom and the better part of Europe, he claimed her mouth with his.

It was not a peck. It was not particularly chaste, though he knew better than to forget where he was. He kissed her, and he let that kiss linger. He tasted her, and that taste seemed to flood through him like molten heat.

Saviero lifted his head, keenly aware that they were in public, even though every part of him was clamoring for more.

He felt the ragged way she breathed, right there against his mouth, where only he could see it. Feel it.

Where only he could understand that he had knocked her off-balance.

Her eyes were fixed to his, and he could see that they’d gone hot and glassy.

And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that whatever challenges this marriage might present to them, physical compatibility would not be one of them.

And the triumph that swept through him then, the sheer victory, nearly sent him stumbling back.

But Saviero was not a man who neglected his duty, no matter what.

He held her face for another beat, even as the congregation stood and applauded.

Some might find it romantic. Others might find it a bit of theater.

But he knew, and she knew too, that what he was doing was preserving her dignity.

Because he watched her pull in a breath. Then another, until that hectic glaze in her eyes faded.

Until she could assume the appropriately regal expression once more.

Only then did he drop his hand. Only then did they turn, together, as the Archbishop announced that the Queen of Liandero and her Prince Consort were now joined in Holy Matrimony, and faced the kingdom as husband and wife.

And more, it was Christmas Day.

“Let the kingdom rejoice,” the Archbishop cried, and the congregation cheered, inside the Cathedral and without.

Hand in hand with her scepter in her free hand, Queen Francesca and Prince Saviero walked down the aisle while the church bells rang out joy to the waiting world, both celestially and secularly, and well did he know that this particular Lianderoan Christmas wedding tradition existed purely to blur the edges between the two.

But Saviero couldn’t mind it, because Cesca was his.

And soon enough, he had every intention of making sure she knew it, inside and out.

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS SNOWING outside when they emerged and Cesca was glad of it, because that meant not only could they not be expected to linger—but the snow might cool her down a bit.

And she needed cooling after that kiss.

Desperately.

She waved. She smiled. She held her scepter as if it was not an ornate bit of metal wrought to strike fear and awe into the populace with its glory. She pretended that the historic ring that had once been her mother’s was not weighing her hand down, so heavy that it felt like she was wearing a brick.