Chapter 3
Sebastian
As a general rule, I cannot abide by weddings. Or any party should it come to that. There are too many distasteful event happening at once.
Family reunion, emotional speeches and the worst, hysterical females.
Yet here I was, waiting for my own bloody bride. The irony was enough to make me laugh, or smash something and watch as it shatters with series of satisfying crunch.
Both of which was a quite ridiculous reaction of a bride groom.
Garbed in a charcoal custom made suit and hair tamed back to reveal my forehead, I await my bride with impatience.
Madeline was the type of wife that's best for a man like me. Beautiful and curvy and doesn't want love or affection.
We were both doing this for a mutual benefit. As the heir of Delacy's corporation, I've been groomed for this all my life.
A marriage that'll result in more money. I glanced around the large hall, noticing the few sleazy glares of reporters.
The wedding was the talk of the town of course.
A figure with walking stick and annoying smirk approached me and I stifled the urge to groan.
Micheal was my cousin and he wouldn't let me see the end of this. Just because I'm getting married. And because I told him I would never get married, like what? Ten years ago??
"Seb, pale is such a nice color on you." He drawled.
I glared at him and this made him chuckle. Had he been a lesser man, my glare would have burnt him to crisp.
But no son of the family was a lesser man.
"As puce is on you. I see you're still as cocky as ever." I murmured.
"Care for a drink?" He glanced around. As if on cue, a lanky waiter brought us two flute of champagne.
I downed the glass in a gulp and grimaced. A whiskey would have been greatly appreciated.
"So, when's the bride getting here? Still that mavy.. maria girl?" He continued with a small smile.
"Her name's Madeline, you dolt! And yes, I'm getting married to her. If she ever decided to show up this century." I muttered.
Micheal shook his head with mock pity, lifted his glass in a salute, "To married life. Which is the true definition of hell." But he was staring at the crowd. Where a petite woman was wearing a ridiculously tall hat. His wife.
The smile gracing his lips and the way his eyes turned soft was totally in love and totally disgusting.
"Get your mooning self away from me." I pat him lightly on the cheek.
He scowled at me and sauntered off with that same soft look.
Uh gross.
I sighed deeply and rubbed my eyes wearily. I came here straight from office. There was some files I needed to sort out and would have forgotten about the wedding if not for the timely reminder of my grandfather.
I grimaced at the thought. Some bride groom I am.
It was then that my wife to be finally decided to show up. Her shoulders were bunched upward with nerves and she darted a quick glance here and there.
A loud roar went off in the crowd.
She looked more slight and a good deal less curvy since the last time I saw her. I scratched my chin. When was the last time I saw her?
Im not sure I honestly remember. The tentative steps she took reminded me of someone. Someone from my past life.
My other life. I swallowed against the constriction in my throat. It's been a lifetime away.
The vicar cleared his throat when the bride finally reached where I was standing. Her long slim fingers gripped the flowers like her life depend on it and i could see the slight tremble in her stance.
A surge of unwanted possessiveness course through me. The urge to suddenly wrap my arms around her and comfort her was ridiculous. I noticed her father didn't walk with her.
Wasn't that supposed to be the tradition or some shit? I wouldn't know. I've never been married before.
The words tumbled from the vicar and I close my mind against them. Focusing on the exposed neckline of my bride. My eyes traced the gentle slope of her neck and I shivered suddenly faced with a vivid visual of the past.
There was a tiny tattoo on her neck and I had this primal urge to bite it. Run my tongue across it. I shook my head, I think I'm running mad.
I've never had this reaction to Madeline before. Not even when we had sex.
"Did you take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife?" The vicar's voice reached me.
I snapped out of my reverie and muttered, "I do."
He repeated the question to her and she snapped her answer. Must be the nerves making her feisty.
"I now pronounce you man and wife." The vicar announced and I saw Micheal beaming devilishly at me.
"You may kiss the bride." The vicar blushed.
The vicar hurriedly stood out of the way as I approached my wife. I realized that I was anticipating. But that'll have to wait.
I placed my lips on her for a quick and perfunctory kiss when a hot jolt of electricity zinged down my spine.
I knew right then and there that this wasn't Madeline. I snatched the veil open from her face and the sight hit me squarely in the chest as if I've been punched.
I might have well been, as all air whooshed out of my lungs. I was staring at the ghost of that past. The one that still haunts me till this moment.
Her eyes were eerily blue_not their normal gorgeous hazel_ and wide.
"Theodosia?" I whispered.
I desperately need someone to do something. Pinch me, fire me a pistol perhaps? I need to be sure this was reality.
A loud scream rented the air as my bride opened her mouth and stared at me like she just saw a ghost. And that was my cue to reality.
Really. It's hell in a handbasket!