whisk of his garments across the steps of the altar. The press of his hand atop her head came before the cool water he crossed on her forehead. Moments later, the dome filled with a chorus of minstrels, lutes, and viols. Laird Kraig stood and drew her up beside him, tugging just a little to pull her closer than was considered proper in a house of God.
Her hip pressed against his outer thigh. He truly was Goliath—a giant of a man and a trained warrior. She bowed her head doubting Alberto's instructions could protect her should he ever lash out.
He leaned into her ear. "Ye could at the verra least feign happiness."
Viviana lowered her lashes. She stared at the pitch inside her head and swallowed the sadness forming a salty knot in her throat. When the assembly rose to receive the blessing, she cocked her head and spoke from the side of her mouth. "Why did you come?"
"'Twould not be much of a wedding without a groom," Laird Kraig said, no doubt trying to humor her, then tucked a tendril behind her ear and caressed her jaw with the side of his finger. "Please smile, Viviana."
A tear rushed over her cheek and her entire being shook. She wouldn't be fooled by his tenderness. "I have naught to smile about. You stole my eyes and keep them tucked inside your doublet like a bauble beside your coin. You are taking me away from my home, away from Angelo. And I hate you." The last of her words were delivered with such venom, even she felt the need to shiver. Luciano would have punished her for such disrespect and Laird Kraig might very well do the same, but not here.
He released her hand and inhaled, then came the sound of grinding teeth.
The remainder of the ceremony hummed on like a drone of bees until Laird Kraig began to recite his vows. "I, Laird Taveon Kraig, accept ye, Viviana Gorini de' Medici Martinus da Vincenza as my wife. I vow to be a faithful husband—"
Viviana's snort snagged his flow, but he managed to deliver the remainder of his pledge without missing a beat. The words meant nothing to her. The same as they had meant nothing to Radolfo and Luciano. Wedding vows were empty words, empty promises her first two husbands recited in order to wallow in the wealth Lorenzo had provided them.
Her vows were delivered with the same lack of enthusiasm, as was the exchange of rings. Bishop Sion continued the ceremony, and Viviana felt certain there had been sacraments added just to torture her. Perspiration dampened her skin beneath the layers of silk her maid had garbed her in. Her head hollowed the longer she stood, and her mouth felt as if she'd swallowed a spoonful of ground marble.
While Bishop Sion blessed the tabernacle holding the Eucharist, Laird Kraig leaned once again into her side. "Do ye think ye will hate me forever?"
"Without a doubt," she answered without pause or sensitivity, wishing the events in her life had not left her so bitter.
The moment Bishop Sion announced them as husband and wife, her unsteady legs wobbled, and she prayed she possessed the strength to carry her gown back down the aisle.
"You may kiss your bride," Bishop Sion finally said, prompting Viviana to turn toward her third husband. She locked her knees and tilted her face upright, waiting for the slide of Laird Kraig's hand at her nape.
"Thank ye, Bishop Sion, but I think I'll pass." Laird Kraig shifted in front of her, forcing her to move, lest she topple over. The rattle of coin and fading footfalls set her ears afire.
He left her at the altar.
Bells pealed and boomed from Giotto's bell tower, but didn't drown out the whispers hissing throughout the dome. She raised her heavy skirt and took the tiniest of steps, but her feet collided with the material of her train.
She felt their eyes on her. Heat streaked through her cheeks, and she could do little more than stand there and breathe.
Viviana!
She whirled around, hearing her name behind her. A female voice—a familiar voice.
Hide, Vivi, hide!
"Fioretta?" Viviana shook her
Her hip pressed against his outer thigh. He truly was Goliath—a giant of a man and a trained warrior. She bowed her head doubting Alberto's instructions could protect her should he ever lash out.
He leaned into her ear. "Ye could at the verra least feign happiness."
Viviana lowered her lashes. She stared at the pitch inside her head and swallowed the sadness forming a salty knot in her throat. When the assembly rose to receive the blessing, she cocked her head and spoke from the side of her mouth. "Why did you come?"
"'Twould not be much of a wedding without a groom," Laird Kraig said, no doubt trying to humor her, then tucked a tendril behind her ear and caressed her jaw with the side of his finger. "Please smile, Viviana."
A tear rushed over her cheek and her entire being shook. She wouldn't be fooled by his tenderness. "I have naught to smile about. You stole my eyes and keep them tucked inside your doublet like a bauble beside your coin. You are taking me away from my home, away from Angelo. And I hate you." The last of her words were delivered with such venom, even she felt the need to shiver. Luciano would have punished her for such disrespect and Laird Kraig might very well do the same, but not here.
He released her hand and inhaled, then came the sound of grinding teeth.
The remainder of the ceremony hummed on like a drone of bees until Laird Kraig began to recite his vows. "I, Laird Taveon Kraig, accept ye, Viviana Gorini de' Medici Martinus da Vincenza as my wife. I vow to be a faithful husband—"
Viviana's snort snagged his flow, but he managed to deliver the remainder of his pledge without missing a beat. The words meant nothing to her. The same as they had meant nothing to Radolfo and Luciano. Wedding vows were empty words, empty promises her first two husbands recited in order to wallow in the wealth Lorenzo had provided them.
Her vows were delivered with the same lack of enthusiasm, as was the exchange of rings. Bishop Sion continued the ceremony, and Viviana felt certain there had been sacraments added just to torture her. Perspiration dampened her skin beneath the layers of silk her maid had garbed her in. Her head hollowed the longer she stood, and her mouth felt as if she'd swallowed a spoonful of ground marble.
While Bishop Sion blessed the tabernacle holding the Eucharist, Laird Kraig leaned once again into her side. "Do ye think ye will hate me forever?"
"Without a doubt," she answered without pause or sensitivity, wishing the events in her life had not left her so bitter.
The moment Bishop Sion announced them as husband and wife, her unsteady legs wobbled, and she prayed she possessed the strength to carry her gown back down the aisle.
"You may kiss your bride," Bishop Sion finally said, prompting Viviana to turn toward her third husband. She locked her knees and tilted her face upright, waiting for the slide of Laird Kraig's hand at her nape.
"Thank ye, Bishop Sion, but I think I'll pass." Laird Kraig shifted in front of her, forcing her to move, lest she topple over. The rattle of coin and fading footfalls set her ears afire.
He left her at the altar.
Bells pealed and boomed from Giotto's bell tower, but didn't drown out the whispers hissing throughout the dome. She raised her heavy skirt and took the tiniest of steps, but her feet collided with the material of her train.
She felt their eyes on her. Heat streaked through her cheeks, and she could do little more than stand there and breathe.
Viviana!
She whirled around, hearing her name behind her. A female voice—a familiar voice.
Hide, Vivi, hide!
"Fioretta?" Viviana shook her
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