The bishop awaited us at the altar, smiling. Well, at me, anyway.

"Welcome." He gave me a friendly nod—then a not quite so friendly one to my prospective husband. "Welcome, Farleigh. Before we begin... You do realize that the promises you make today you will actually have to keep, don't you?"

"Very amusing, your Grace," his Lordship answered, straightfaced.

"All right." The bishop cleared his throat. "Let's begin."

Smiling brightly, he raised the book in his hand, and announced: "Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man," he nodded to his Lordship, "and this Woman," he nodded to me, "in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocence, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men..."

I let the words wash over me like warm milk and honey. This was not like any wedding I had seen before. I could hear the ancient wisdom and spirituality in every word the bishop spoke, and it gave this moment the dignified beauty it deserved.

"...and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites..."

My eyes flew wide open. What?

"...like brute beasts that have no understanding..."

Okay... maybe not quite as dignified as I thought.

"What the heck is going on here?" I hissed at his Lordship.

Can you believe he actually had the audacity to smile?

"The bishop is a bit of a traditionalist. That's the introduction to weddings from the Book of Common Prayer. It has remained unchanged since 1662."

"You don't say!"

His smile widened, and a mischievous twinkle appeared in his eye. "I would have thought any lady would find this extremely romantic. All Jane Austen's romance heroines were married to those words."

"They have my sympathy."

"...but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God;" the bishop carried on, happily, completely unaware of our whispered conversation. He was by no means done yet. "Duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained: First, It was ordained for the procreation of children..."

Color shot to my cheeks, and I clenched my groom's hand so tight I thought I heard bones crack.

"...to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name. Secondly, It was ordained for a remedy against sin..."

My cheeks assumed tomato-like qualities.

"and to avoid fornication..."

The tomatoes burst into flame. Soon, my dress would catch fire, and then I would be consumed in a red-hot fiery surge of fatal embarrassment. I just knew it! I knew it!

"...that such persons as have not the gift of continence might marry,"

My mouth dropped open. No! This was simply too much.

"Excuse me?" I hissed at his lordship. "Is he saying I'm getting married because I regularly pee in my pants?"

Lord Farleigh's shoulders were shaking. "'Continence' is a 14th century Middle English word, my dear Miss McKinney. It has nothing to do with urination."

"Well, then what does it mean?" I demanded. If someone was going to imply something about the state of my pants at my wedding, I was damn well going to know what it meant!

Leaning over, Lord Farleigh whispered into my ear: "Sexual restraint—that's what it means, my dear Miss McKinney." His lips brushed my ear, and I shivered involuntarily. "He's saying I'm marrying you because I can't keep my hands off you. And do you know what? He's right."

Oh.

His lips brushed my ear again, his hot breath tickling my earlobe. Suddenly, I wasn't so outraged at the Book of Common Prayer anymore. It might actually have a very good point.

"... and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body. Thirdly, It was ordained for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can shew any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace."

For one moment, I was afraid someone would pull a Jane Eyre on me. Holy hell, this was England, after all, and Barrington Hall was more than large enough to stash a few crazy wives up in the attic. When no one shouted "Hey, that arse is already married!" I breathed an intense sigh of relief, and we proceeded to the vows. Luckily, I had steadfastly insisted on writing those together with my prospective husband. Nothing about peeing in your pants and having lots of babies in there, thank you very much!

The venerable bishop turned to Lord Farleigh, a slightly pained expression on his face. With reluctance, he began to speak the outrageously untraditional words the two of us had concocted. "Will you take this woman as your wife, give her your heart, soul and hand, promise to love her, care for and comfort her, to always be truthful, kind and not too much of... ehem... too much of an ass to her until death do you part?"

Just so you know, I had insisted on that last part. It's always wise to prepare.

His Lordship nodded solemnly. "I do."

Still with a pained expression on his face, the bishop turned to me. "It's not too late my dear," he whispered. "Are you sure you'd not rather use the vow from the Book of Common Prayer? It's traditional, and—"

"Does it still have the stuff about serving and obeying in there?"

"Um, yes, but—"

"Then forget it!"

The bishop sighed, resigned to his fate. "As you wish. Taking into account who your groom is, you might actually be making a wise choice in omitting that part."

Clearing his throat, he asked, more loudly: "Cassidy McKinney, Will you take this man as your husband, give him your heart, soul and hand, promise to love him, care for and comfort him, to always be truthful and kind and not to knock him over the head with a lead pipe, no matter how much he might get on your nerves, until death do you part?"

"I do."

The bishop nodded at us and, reaching into his pocket, pulled out a beautiful silver and sapphire ring—my ring, and slipped it onto my finger. His molten steel-blue eyes burned into mine.

"With this ring I take thee for my wife. With my Body I will worship thee, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow."

I had trouble taking another breath. The metal around my finger was just a tiny speck of matter, and yet, it seemed to hold every part of me. And through it, he held me. Forever after.

Taking a ring from the only pocket of my wedding dress, I slipped it onto his finger. "I don't have many worldly goods," I whispered. "But that body-worshiping? I'm definitely on board with that!"

The Bishop winced, and quickly raised his hands.

"Then, let us pray. Oh, Eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace..."

I wasn't really listening anymore, and by the look on his face, neither was his Lordship. If God wanted to watch us get hitched, it was fine by me. But right now, I really couldn't pay any attention to him. I was far too busy staring at the man in front of me. My man. My husband.

"...the Author of everlasting life; Send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this Man and this Woman, whom we bless in thy Name; that, as Isaac and Rebecca lived faithfully together, so these persons may surely perform and keep the vow..."

Could I kiss him already? Were we that far into the ceremony? I really wanted to kiss him, and I really wanted to do it right now.

"...and covenant betwixt them made, (whereof this Ring given and received is a token and pledge,) and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according to thy laws; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Taking one of his hands and one of mine, the bishop led them together. Lord Farleigh's—or I suppose now it was Chris's—touch was electric. I sucked in a breath, and he started to rub soothing circles on my palm. Needless to say they did anything but sooth me.

"Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder," the Bishop announced. And, looking at the huge congregation, he continued: "Forasmuch as Christopher and Cassidy have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other, and have declared..."

Yes, yes. All right. When do we get to the kiss?

"...the same by giving and receiving of a Ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Now? Do we get to kiss now?

"God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost..."

Ugh! God, I love you, but why do you have to have your name repeated that often? Please, have mercy!

"...bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favor look upon you; and so fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace, that ye may so live together in this life, that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting. Amen."

Closing the book, the bishop smiled at us.

"You may kiss the bride."

Yay! Finally!

My husband reached for the white veil covering my face, and the cameras all around started flashing like sex-starved exhibitionists. Quickly, I grabbed his hand and shook my head.

"No. Leave it on for now, will you?"

One of his eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. "Why?"

Because I don't want my picture on the front page of the every tabloid in the country under the heading "Nobleman marries serial killer"!

But there was an even better reason. I smiled. "Because I want you to take it off later—along with everything else."

His eyes gleamed. "You little temptress! All right. As you wish, my Lady."

"My Lady? You're not going to start calling me that, are you?"

"Why not?" Bending down towards me, he took my veil between his fingers and lifted it just enough to bare my lips. "You are my Lady now, and I am your Lord. And my wish is your command."

Then he kissed me. Not just for show. Not just for the cameras clicking like made all around. I mean he really kissed me. A toe-curling, blood-boiling, mind-boggling kiss that made my skin tingle and my heart want to explode with joy. He called me his lady! His!

And I was. If I had any doubt after his passionate words of love and his solemn vow in front of a cathedral full of people, it was eradicated by the way his mouth claimed mine. He didn't do things by halves, or even by three quarters. His tongue delved into my mouth, claiming what was his with unwavering power and confidence.

All around us, cheers went up, and shouts from the journalists to take that damn white rag off my face so they could get a couple of decent shots. I didn't listen, and neither did he. His arms went around me and, without hesitation, swept me off my feet. I wanted to gasp or cry out—in shock? In ecstasy? I didn't know. But when I opened my lips wider, he ruthlessly seized the opportunity to plunge even deeper into my mouth, taking every last inch of me. With his powerful arms around me, I hung suspended in the air, limp and willing as Lord Christopher Conrad Alexander Edward Malcolm Farleigh, 7th Baron Farleigh, kissed the living daylight out of me. He didn't stop, even when stars started to dance in front of my eyes.

Yes! Oh yes!

The crowd started chuckling around us, and still he continued, his lips and tongue consuming my whole world. I was so utterly focused on him that I only realized we had moved when he set me down outside the cathedral. Blinking in confusion, I looked around.

"Aren't you supposed to restrict the over-the-threshold-carrying to your home?"

"Our home," he corrected, caressing my cheek through the silken veil. "And I feel greedy today, my Lady."

Grabbing me again, he hoisted me up once more and, ignoring my protests, started to carry me down the stone steps.

"Put me down! I'm a grown woman! I can walk!"

"You can," he allowed, pulling me close against his hard chest, his steel-blue eyes latching onto mine. "But that doesn't mean you're allowed to while I'm there to carry you."

Not fair! How could he manage to make something so damn sexist sound so damn sexy?

The guests, who had already flocked outside, cheered again and started parting for us, creating a path down to the square. Passers-by down there—students, tourists, kids and inebriated drug-addicts—who sat, grouped around the statue of some queen or other, looked up to see was all the fuss was about. Doves rose up from all over the square, dotting the radiant blue sky with specks of white.

His Lordship reached the bottom of the stairs. Instead of relaxing his grip on me, as I had expected, he just stood there, waiting.

"You can let me down now," I told him. "Or do you intend to carry me all the way to the wedding feast?"

"I won't have to," he told me with an enigmatic smile.

"What do you mean? You can't—"

The words died in my throat. I heard the clip-clop, clip-clop of hoofs, and a moment later something emerged from between a row of trees at the other end of the square. Something large, and bright and graceful.

My mouth dropped open. It was a carriage. An actual, real-life carriage, drawn by a team of four beautiful white horses with gleaming silver tackle and bright white plumes on their heads.

"That... You didn't... I..."

My pitiful attempts at speaking died, when I saw the next carriage emerge from the trees. It was just as beautiful as the first one. And then came another. And another.

"How many...?" I managed.

"Enough." He tightened his hold on me. "I can't let my Lady and her wedding guests not travel in style now, can I?"

I threw myself at him. I didn't care if it's at all possible to throw yourself at someone who was already holding you clenched in his arms, I did it! I ended up pressed against his chest with his mouth on mine, devouring me.

"You see?" he murmured against my lips. "I won't have to let go of you after all."

"Good!" I breathed, and kissed him some more. Behind me, the crowd started chuckling again, but I didn't care one little bit. In the background, I vaguely heard the clip-clop, clip-clop approach. When it suddenly stopped, I looked up, blushing, at the coachman on the box. It was Tom.

"Where to, my Lord?" he asked.

"Elsham Manor," he told Tom, lifting me with one powerful move and setting me down gently on the left side of the open carriage's upholstered seat. "And get there fast."

"Pardon my impertinence, my Lord," I whispered, snuggling into the comfortable leather seat. "But if you wanted fast, you got the wrong kind of vehicle. A car could exceed twenty miles per hour, you know."

"Oh, I don't want to go that fast." His eyes flashing wickedly, he clambered in after me. Not for one second did his gaze leave me. "I'll have plenty of things to occupy my time."

He slammed the door shut behind us, and we were off. To loud cheers from the wedding guests, who were all clambering into one vehicle or another from the vast fleet of carriages, we drove off down the street. Even people who were not part of the wedding and just happened to be passing outside the cathedral started to cheer and clap. I felt like a princess. And I guess I was as close to being one as a girl from Hilly Springs, Alabama, could possibly get.

We drove off down the street, not on the left, nor on the right, but smack in the middle. Amazingly, not a single car came towards us, honking in protest. Somehow, I felt sure that his mighty and magnificent Lordship was behind this. Though how he had managed it was a complete mystery to me.

With the street completely cleared of everything except a cheering crowd, we were soon out of the city, and I could see the silhouette of the palatial mansion he had bought—yes, bought—for the wedding reception. I could already hear the music start, faint in the distance.

Fixing me with his penetrating steel-blue eyes, Lord Christopher Conrad Alexander Edward Malcolm Farleigh, 7th Baron Farleigh took my hand.

"My fair lady, may I take this opportunity to solicit your hand for the first dance?"

His lips caressed the back of my hand reverentially, and I melted into my seat.

"For that one and as many after as you want, my Lord."

Lifting his gaze from my hand, he looked up at me from under his lashes with an intensity that almost made my heart stop.

"That might be difficult, my love. I only hired the band for one week."

And, seizing my hand, he pulled me into his arms again.