never have left the house in half the color that Faith had applied to her face, but it was gorgeous. She’d used at least four shades of eye shadow, and Miranda’s natural eye color was practically luminous against the palette. Faith had even fastened several tiny jewels, like Indian bindis, down Miranda’s left temple. Her lips were a deep bloodred with a purple undertone.
Miranda felt her eyes start to burn. “I look like a Queen,” she said.
David tipped her chin up with his hand so their eyes met. “You always do, beloved,” he replied. “I just wanted you to see it.”
“Don’t cry!” Faith instructed. “I don’t want to have to redo all of that.”
Miranda stared into her own face for a long moment, swallowing hard. This is who I am now … It’s real.
“Come on,” Faith said. “Time to get you into your dress.”
“I’ll wait outside.” David rose, leaving the camera where it was and giving his Queen a loving smile before he left them to their preparations.
“Did you feel like this when you saw yourself?” Miranda asked Faith, who was fetching the garment bag from where it hung on the back of the door.
“It was weird,” Faith admitted. “It’s been a lot longer for me.”
Miranda sighed and stood up so that Faith could help her into the gown they’d spent four hours shopping for last week. Miranda had thought she should wear green, what with her hair and eyes, but Faith had quickly squashed that idea. Every redhead in the world wore green dresses, the Second told her. She had a better idea.
Still skeptical, Miranda stood still while Faith pulled and tucked and yanked various bits of the gown down over the insane bra situation that they’d bought. It was reasonably comfortable, though definitely not something she’d wear to fight or perform in. Still, she had refused to go anywhere totally unarmed, and Faith had chuckled and produced a small wooden knife that slid into a hidden sheath on Miranda’s garter.
“Okay,” Faith said. “Take a step back, and I’ll move this thing so you can see the full effect.” The Second took the computer and turned it sideways so that the image switched to vertical.
Miranda started laughing. “Jesus, Faith. Are you sure that’s me?”
Faith grinned. “You plus some helpful girly scaffolding.”
The gown was dark plum, almost black, and shimmered when it caught the light; it was fitted to the waist and then had a flowing skirt that was slit expertly to reveal glimpses of her calves as she walked. Her shoulders and arms were bare, and while she’d been afraid her skin would look pallid, it glowed; her Signet made the entire ensemble complete.
“All right, go blow your husband’s mind while I finish getting ready,” Faith told her.
Feeling faintly dazed, Miranda nodded and slipped on her shoes, then left the bathroom.
She heard a half-choking sound when she emerged, and had to hold back a giggle.
David was standing by the fireplace, staring at her with wide eyes over a glass of Scotch that he had apparently inhaled when he saw her.
Miranda smiled, put a hand on her hip, and said, “What do you think, my Lord?”
He set the glass down on the mantel and came up to her, still staring, and she half expected him to seize her arms and throw her down on the bed. His hunger for her was palpable, and his eyes were dilated and full of fire.
He looked as beautiful as she did—she’d never seen him in a tux before and hadn’t thought it possible for him to look more sophisticated, but there it was. It was so attractive she wanted to rip it right off.
They stared at each other. “Faith will kill us both if you smudge my makeup,” Miranda said, her voice husky with desire.
In response, David leaned into her, lips moving lightly along her neck while his hands encircled her waist and pulled her tightly to him. She sighed, eyes closed, and sucked in a breath at the sting of his teeth in her throat.
He took only a swallow, and by the time
Miranda felt her eyes start to burn. “I look like a Queen,” she said.
David tipped her chin up with his hand so their eyes met. “You always do, beloved,” he replied. “I just wanted you to see it.”
“Don’t cry!” Faith instructed. “I don’t want to have to redo all of that.”
Miranda stared into her own face for a long moment, swallowing hard. This is who I am now … It’s real.
“Come on,” Faith said. “Time to get you into your dress.”
“I’ll wait outside.” David rose, leaving the camera where it was and giving his Queen a loving smile before he left them to their preparations.
“Did you feel like this when you saw yourself?” Miranda asked Faith, who was fetching the garment bag from where it hung on the back of the door.
“It was weird,” Faith admitted. “It’s been a lot longer for me.”
Miranda sighed and stood up so that Faith could help her into the gown they’d spent four hours shopping for last week. Miranda had thought she should wear green, what with her hair and eyes, but Faith had quickly squashed that idea. Every redhead in the world wore green dresses, the Second told her. She had a better idea.
Still skeptical, Miranda stood still while Faith pulled and tucked and yanked various bits of the gown down over the insane bra situation that they’d bought. It was reasonably comfortable, though definitely not something she’d wear to fight or perform in. Still, she had refused to go anywhere totally unarmed, and Faith had chuckled and produced a small wooden knife that slid into a hidden sheath on Miranda’s garter.
“Okay,” Faith said. “Take a step back, and I’ll move this thing so you can see the full effect.” The Second took the computer and turned it sideways so that the image switched to vertical.
Miranda started laughing. “Jesus, Faith. Are you sure that’s me?”
Faith grinned. “You plus some helpful girly scaffolding.”
The gown was dark plum, almost black, and shimmered when it caught the light; it was fitted to the waist and then had a flowing skirt that was slit expertly to reveal glimpses of her calves as she walked. Her shoulders and arms were bare, and while she’d been afraid her skin would look pallid, it glowed; her Signet made the entire ensemble complete.
“All right, go blow your husband’s mind while I finish getting ready,” Faith told her.
Feeling faintly dazed, Miranda nodded and slipped on her shoes, then left the bathroom.
She heard a half-choking sound when she emerged, and had to hold back a giggle.
David was standing by the fireplace, staring at her with wide eyes over a glass of Scotch that he had apparently inhaled when he saw her.
Miranda smiled, put a hand on her hip, and said, “What do you think, my Lord?”
He set the glass down on the mantel and came up to her, still staring, and she half expected him to seize her arms and throw her down on the bed. His hunger for her was palpable, and his eyes were dilated and full of fire.
He looked as beautiful as she did—she’d never seen him in a tux before and hadn’t thought it possible for him to look more sophisticated, but there it was. It was so attractive she wanted to rip it right off.
They stared at each other. “Faith will kill us both if you smudge my makeup,” Miranda said, her voice husky with desire.
In response, David leaned into her, lips moving lightly along her neck while his hands encircled her waist and pulled her tightly to him. She sighed, eyes closed, and sucked in a breath at the sting of his teeth in her throat.
He took only a swallow, and by the time
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