Moments later, she was asleep.
Marge Richards sniffed softly as she set the veil in place on Marisa's head. "You look beautiful. Just beautiful."
"Thanks, Mom. What time is it?"
"Five o'clock. Stop worrying. They can't start without the bride. Now, let's see... what've you got for something old?"
"Grandma's brooch."
"Right. Something new?"
"My dress."
"Something borrowed?"
"Hanky from Barb."
"Something blue?"
"The ribbon on my garter."
Marge Richards stood back and sighed. Marisa looked like a fairy-tale princess. Her gown was white satin, with a scoop neck, long fitted sleeves, and a full skirt. The veil was like a whisper of moonlight, pale and fragile.
"So, how do I look?"
"Perfect, honey, just perfect."
"Is Dad ready?"
"He's been wearing a rut in your carpet for the last twenty minutes. You know your father, always ready an hour early. I think the big question is, are you ready?"
Marisa nodded as she slipped her arm around her mother's waist. "Thanks for all your help, Mom."
"You did all the work."
"I don't mean just today. You've always been there for me."
Marge Richards blinked back her tears. "Be happy, Marty."
"I will be." Marisa blinked back tears of her own. "Let's go."
Mike and Barbara and the kids were waiting at the church.
"Is Grigori here?" Marisa asked. "Have you seen him?"
"He was here when we got here," Barbara said. "Lordy, you should see what that man does for a tux."
"Hey," Mike said. "What about me? I look darn good, if I do say so myself."
"Of course you do, honey," Barbara said. She looked at Marisa and rolled her eyes. "Men. They've got egos the size of the Grand Canyon."
"What about Linda? Is she here yet?"
"I haven't seen her."
"Geez, you don't think she forgot?"
"I'm sure she didn't," Jack Richards said. "Calm down, Marty."
At five-thirty, the organist began to play. Mike and the kids went to take their places. A few minutes later, Linda arrived at the church.
"Sorry I'm late. My baby-sitter canceled at the last minute and I had to get Jim's mother to come and stay with the kids. Marty, you look gorgeous."
They spent the next few minutes handing out flowers and making sure every hair was in place. And then her mother left to be seated.
And then they were playing her music.
"Ready, honey?" her dad asked.
Marisa nodded.
"No doubts?"
"No."
"Okay, then," he said, taking her arm, "here we go. Smile."
They paused in the doorway, and Marisa took it all in in one swift glance... the few close friends and coworkers sitting in the pews, the flowers on the altar, the minister, Linda and Barbara smiling at her, Mike and Mike Junior looking solemn and proud, and then she saw Grigori and everything else disappeared from her sight.
Save for his white shirt, he was a study in black, from his hair to his tux to his shoes. She felt the power of his eyes as he watched her walk down the aisle, felt the power of the man himself. It reached out to her, enfolding her in a lover's embrace.
Her heart was beating like a wild thing caught in a trap by the time she reached the altar.
She hardly heard a word that was said, was only vaguely aware of her father placing her hand in Grigori's. She felt Grigori's fingers close over her own, firm and cool, felt a quick jolt of electricity arc between them. And then they were exchanging the vows that would bind them together.
Grigori looked deep into her eyes as he placed his ring upon her finger and spoke the words that made her his wife. But it was the words he spoke to her mind that she heard.
I love you, cara. I shall love and cherish you until your dying breath, protect you with my life. So long as I live, you will want for nothing.
And then the ceremony was over. The minister smiled at Grigori. "You may kiss the bride."
She gazed up into Grigori's eyes as he lifted her veil. Gently, as if she were made of the most fragile crystal, he took her face between his hands and kissed her. There was a roaring in her ears. Heat exploded through her as he branded her with his kiss.
Her senses were reeling when he took his mouth from hers. The minister introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Grigori Chiavari, and then they were walking down the aisle.
He kissed her again as soon as they were outside the church. There was nothing gentle in this kiss; it was filled with such passion and fire that she was surprised she didn't melt in his arms.
And then