Claiming The Prize (14 page)

They strolled, each quiet for the
moment, and Grace understood that Drago had more to say.
After a
pause he continued slowly and softly.

“
I have worked many years,
and I am well prepared to take a wife.
I take my commitment to you
seriously, Grace.
Never doubt me.
Of anyone in this world, it is
your trust and confidence I need.”

“
Drago,” she responded,
laying her free hand on his arm, “My trust and confidence are
already yours.”

Knowing he did not doubt her, that he
needed to declare aloud his feelings, Grace assumed he had
finished, but he pulled her close, wrapping his arms about her and
holding her.
His lips brushed the top of her head, and she melted
into the embrace.
His scent, warm and masculine, clung around her,
strong and reassuring.

He began again, but his voice had
thickened.

“
Tomorrow night I will
claim you as my wife, Gracie.
I will possess your heart and your
body fully.”
He cupped her head and ran his fingers over her hair.
“You have not known a man's touch, milenka, and I want no fear to
stand between us on our wedding night.
I will come to you full of
passion, but our joining will be tender.”

His deep voice so near her,
reverberating through his chest and into her sent chills up and
down her spine.
He stroked his hands up and down her back, and she
raised her chin to look up at him.

“
I'm not afraid,” was her
soft-spoken yet powerful reply.

“
Ah, Grace,” he husked,
holding her tilted face and feathering kisses over her
forehead.

Her arms wound around his
solid frame, and he paused to stare at her upturned face.
The high
cheeks, flushed pink, and eyes gently shining under his gaze drew
him closer.
He was undone.
Lovingly, he slanted his mouth over hers
and drank deeply of her lips, feeling her first startle then soften
in his arms.

The sound of rushing water roared in
Grace's ears.
Her head swam.
The heat of his lips burned through
her skin and kindled the coals of passion within her.
Lost in his
kiss, she knew only the moment.
He eased his lips from hers and
brought his thumb to brush her face.
No words were spoken.
Their
eyes intimated what each wished to express.

“
Tomorrow, milenka, I will
make you mine.”

He led her inside the corridor, back
to waiting family and friends.
She walked alongside him leisurely,
intoxicated at the first taste of Drago's unchecked
passion.

* * *

Drago stood at the front of the
cathedral looking over the heads of family, friends, and business
associates for his first glimpse of the bride.
His bride.
He had
never doubted her feelings, yet standing alone and exposed before
so many eyes left him wishing for her appearance.
When Grace
stepped into view through the gaping, stone archway at the rear of
the long aisle on the arm of her father, Drago's heart sped in
anticipation, yet strangely, the tenseness in his muscles eased.
She was beautiful.

Her long, dark hair was parted in the
center and swept into a large Spanish knot at the base of her neck.
The intricately tatted lace veil covered the top of her head and
hung long and simple down the length of the gown, coming around her
shoulders and draping over her arms.
Lace sleeves fitted her slim
arms and the lace continued over her shoulders, rounding at the
bottom of her slender neck.
The satin under-bodice snugly fitted
her hips, and from there it fell naturally to the floor.
Drago's
mind had each detail memorized in the half minute pause before the
music began, and at last he watched Grace take the first steps
toward him to become his wife.

Grace gripped her father's arm tightly
as they progressed the length of the aisle.
Her eyes, dark and
lustrous, were firmly fixed on Drago where he awaited her.
The
moment his eyes found hers, everything faded into the background
but him, and her stomach tightened at the intensity of his gaze.
His eyes left hers only when the ceremony made it necessary, and
even then, Grace could feel raw emotion pulse off him in a way
wholly new to her.
His voice became heavy and thick as he spoke his
vows aloud, and when they circled around to the front of the altar
and faced one another for Father Svalina's final pronouncement
declaring them husband and wife, Drago's eyes darkened to black
pools of liquid ink.

Face to face, her delicate
hands encased in his grip, Grace heard the imperative to the groom
for their kiss.
Drago's hand tightened slightly on hers as the
other rose to cup her cheek.
He leaned toward her, bent his head,
and touched his lips tenderly to hers while his fingers slid behind
her neck and held her to himself for an exquisite moment.
When his
lips slowly left hers, she saw the promise of unrestrained desire
flash across his face before he turned them toward the congregation
to take their first steps together as man and wife.

Grace felt caught in a dream as they
seemingly floated down the aisle to take their place at the rear of
the church, waiting to thank the exiting well-wishers.
Feeling
beautiful in her gown and remembering her love's intimate words of
the previous night, Grace Zadrovec tingled from head to toe with
joy and anticipation of her wedding night.

* * *

The courtyard bustled with activity.
Guests mingled, sharing the latest news and naturally commenting on
the wedding details while seeking their seats.
Servers filed
through the crowd, carrying silver trays laden with the strong
spirits of celebratory cheer while others worked to arrange the
dishes on the serving tables.

Roasted lamb, potatoes, and
smoked ham were heaped on platters along with dishes of peppers,
mushrooms, and a variety of cheeses.
Minestrone and Riblja Juhe, a
soup prepared with fish, steamed in tall pots, surrounded by
baskets of crusty breads and bowls of colorful cucumber and tomato
salad.
A separate table covered in white linen housed the sweet
puff pastries of strudel, pala
č
inka, and krem
?
nite – a delectable cream filled
pastry.
At the center, the round, white tiers of smoothly iced
wedding cake stood tall and proud, decorated with clusters of dried
fruits and wide, green leaves.

The linear guest tables were topped
with linens of a red and white floral print surrounded by green
leaves on a creamy background, and upon each, clear, glass carafes
of strong, Slovakian wine along with amber carafes of the watered
wine, Bevanda, awaited the guests.
The bride and groom, their
witnesses, and family would sit together at tables in the front,
decorated the same as the others with the addition of grapevine
garland across the fronts.

Guy, Visnja, and Slavko entered the
courtyard, and the cheers began in earnest.
Behind them, Drago and
Grace stepped over the threshold, her arm linked in his, and
stopped as the guests sounded their applause.
Making their way to
the bridal table, Drago was approached by Dubravko and his other
cousins with snifters of powerful, plum brandy, and his quick nod
brought heavy slaps to his back.

Glass raised, Dubravko toasted, “To
Drago and Grace!
May your bridal week be sweet!”

All repeated the wish and emptied
their glasses, adding their compliments for happiness as they
sifted through the crowd toward the tables in anticipation of the
celebration to come.

The meal commenced following Father
Svalina's blessing, and accompanying music played in the
background, emphasizing an old-world atmosphere.
After the guests
had both eaten and talked their full, and hearts had warmed with
wine, the dancing began.
Lively tunes punctuated the clear air, and
the partners joined the growing circle of swirling skirts and
black-trousered legs.
Calls rang out for the bride and groom to
ally with them.
Drago moved to lead Grace into the throng of
dancers, but Aunt Visnja and her sisters surrounded Grace, clucking
and fussing at him to leave her in their care briefly.
They ushered
Grace to the end of the bridal table.

“
Come Grace,” Aunt Visnja
cajoled, “Drink the bride's cup, girl.
It will set your feet in
motion for the dancing.”

Grace took the tiny, silver goblet
offered her, and the conspiring older women urged her to take down
its contents with a gulp.
She obeyed, swallowing the fiery liquid
and immediately coughed and sputtered as it burned its way to her
belly.

“
Oh!”
she choked out
hoarsely, vigorously fanning herself while the cackling ladies
raised their own cups to partake in triumph.

“
There, there, Grace.
Now
you are ready to dance,” Aunt Stella, Visnja's sister,
encouraged.

They all locked arms, adding Grace to
their number and advanced to the center of the
festivities.

Recovering slightly, Grace laughed
aloud and permitted them to move her along.
To her surprise, the
steps came easily, and she found the rhythm of the dance, enjoying
the forward then backward progress of the circle and energy of the
dancers.
Hands seized her narrow hips, spinning her around.
Finding
herself in Drago's hands, heat flared in her cheeks.
He whirled her
around the perimeter of the enclosed circle to the quick beat of
the music, her feet barely touching the floor, until she was
breathless with exertion and laughter.
With a quick gesture, he
scooped her into his strong arms and trotted around the dance-floor
to roars of approval from the onlookers.
Grace's hands were locked
around Drago's muscled neck, her head flung back in exuberance.
He
stilled after exiting the circle and righted her, his hands firmly
about her waist until she regained her balance.

“
We'd better visit our
guests, Drago,” she managed, righting her veil.

“
Then let us do that
quickly, because I will not resist the urge to carry you off much
longer,” he said with a smile, sending a shiver of excitement mixed
with innocent apprehension through her.

A disc jockey announced his presence
with modern beats, inviting the younger generation to claim the
dance-floor along with a few, hearty souls of the older set.
Drago
and Grace mingled with their guests, and Drago made sure each
received a few moments of introduction to his new wife as techno
blared around them.
Darkness had fallen, and red, blue, yellow, and
white paper lanterns were lit, illuminating the courtyard.
Tea
lights floated in wide bowls on the tables, providing soft light
for the observers.
Drago drank to the toasts of many well wishers.
Grace joined them, sipping the watered wine cautiously as they made
their way along the long tables.

Beckoned to the dance-floor again, the
newlyweds reveled for a few songs before the tempo slowed, and Guy
came for his last dance with his only daughter.
He held her in his
arms, savoring his final moments with her, for he had to depart the
next day.

“
I love you, Gracie girl,”
he choked out.
“And even though you're married now, you'll always
be my little Gracie.
If you ever need me, know I'll be there,
daughter.”

He hugged her tightly, and Grace's
eyes teared up as she squeezed her father.

“
Thank you, Daddy,” she
said softly, the emotions of the moment pulling the childhood term
of endearment from her lips.
“Thank you for everything.
I couldn't
have had a better father.”

They swayed together in their
bittersweet goodbye.
Mid-song, Drago arrived to assume his symbolic
place as Grace's partner in the dance of life, and Guy Antolini
kissed his daughter's cheeks and conveyed her into Drago's care.
As
he did so, the two men locked gazes for a brief moment before Guy
hugged his son-in-law and exhorted, “Take care of her,
son.”