Toxic - Zoe Blake Page 0,59

frightful to contemplate.

The bishop turned to Richard. “Richard Payne the third, Duke of Winterbourne, will you take Elizabeth Adelaide Larkin to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and protect her, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

My cheeks flamed as I remembered Richard’s darkly whispered words on this very spot the day before.

I, Richard Payne the third, Duke of Winterbourne and various other exalted titles of the realm, do hereby claim Elizabeth Adelaide Larkin as my own. She will love, honor, and obey me as her rightful lord and master, forsaking all others and remaining faithful in her duty to me in mind, body, and soul, for as long as she lives, or face the consequences of my wrath.

“I will,” came Richard’s response, his voice strong and determined, loud enough for everyone in attendance to hear.

The bishop turned to me. “Elizabeth Adelaide Larkin, will you take Richard Payne the third to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and protect him, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him as long as you both shall live?”

Turning my head, I looked up at Richard. The man who both terrified and fascinated me. I was about to become his, before God and the law. His. He was fond of claiming me as his own, but now it would become official. Irrevocably so. I didn’t have to be told there would never be an out for me. Richard would never even contemplate allowing me a divorce should I ever decide being with him was too much. My words today would seal my fate with his. Forever. No turning back.

His hand gave my side a slight squeeze.

“I will,” I squeaked out softly.

“I’m sorry. Please say that again,” said the bishop as he tilted his head to the side to hear me better.

A ripple of unease waved over the guests as everyone strained to hear my response.

Clearing my throat, I said only slightly more loudly, “I will.”

You could almost feel the collective relief among the guests at my response.

By my side, the corner of Richard’s mouth quirked up in what looked almost like a satisfied smirk.

The bishop continued. “Will you, the families and friends of Richard and Elizabeth, support and uphold them in their marriage now and in the years to come?”

The guests collectively responded, “We will.”

We then exchanged rings. My hands were trembling so hard I almost dropped the simple platinum band before I slipped it onto his finger. Richard then slipped a gorgeous infinity ring of blue sapphires on my finger.

The bishop joined our hands. “Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder.”

Richard swung his arm around, pulling me close. Wrapping a hand around my neck, he leaned down and claimed my mouth in a deeply passionate and possessive kiss that had half the guests gasping in shock and the other half clapping and cheering.

We were married.

Married!

Richard was now officially my husband.

My lord and master.

In that moment, the orchestra burst into a loud, rousing rendition of our recessional music, the ‘Crown Imperial’ by William Walton.

It’s why I didn’t hear the gunshot.

Chapter 22

Lizzie

Crimson blood splattered across my bodice and exposed neck.

Horrified, I stared wide-eyed at Richard’s shocked face.

My gaze followed his to the bullet wound in the center of his chest.

My mouth opened on a bloodcurdling scream as I watched Richard slowly sink to his knees.

“No!” I raged as I fell to my knees by his side.

Despite his bullet wound, Richard grabbed me and shoved me to the floor, putting his body protectively over mine, shielding me from any possible additional gunfire.

The entire cathedral erupted into panicked chaos.

Armed guards raced to surround the royal family as Richard’s own security force swarmed over us.

“Secure the perimeter!”

“Lock it down!”

“Get an ambulance.”

“The queen! The queen! Secure Her Majesty!”

Blind with fear, the guests scrambled and fought their way out of the narrow pews as everyone dashed for the exits.

In my fevered mind, Richard’s body on top of mine felt like dead weight.

He was dead.

I was sure of it.

It was all my fault. She had killed him because of me. My shoulders shook with sobs as he pressed me down against the icy marble floor.

“Shh… don’t cry, baby girl,” rasped Richard against my ear.

He grimaced when my shoulder connected with his wound as I turned around in his arms. Lifting my hands to his face, I wept, “Richard! Richard, please don’t leave me! I love you! Please don’t die! I need