“I’ll get you more clothes.”
“There are other things I’d like to have, too. Stop being fastidious about this. That money is owed to you, and those thingsaremine. Demand that he send it all.”
In truth, he was dreading that particular task. Even at his most ambitious, he hadn’t wanted the fortune that accompanied Nic’s hand in marriage. He wouldn’t have agreed to the dowry in the first place if he hadn’t needed it to compensate for the staggering fee he’d had to pay the Convocation for his chance at the Betrothal Trials. He’d practically exhausted House Phel’s coffers to come up with that money. Still, Nic’s dowry made the whole enterprise feel too much of a financial transaction—something he supposed he should’ve recognized about the acquisition of a familiar much sooner.
“Maybe we should invite your parents to the wedding,” he suggested on impulse, enjoying that he’d surprised her, those raven wing brows arcing as if to take flight. “They could bring the dowry as a wedding gift, and you could reassure yourself of your mother’s well-being.” Surely Lord Elal wouldn’t keep the bride’s mother in feline form for that event, and Nic would be reassured to see her mother.
“What wedding?” Now her brows drew together.
“I’d like to have the ceremony, to offer willing vows to each other.”
“We’re bonded. There’s no stronger vow that that. In the eyes of the Convocation, we’re more than married. I’m Lady Phel now.”
“Nevertheless.” He reclaimed her hand, holding it between his. “Will you marry me?”
She rolled her eyes. “This is driven by sentiment. It makes no practical sense.”
“Still.” He couldn’t help smiling at her exasperation. “Will you marry me?”
“I already did,” she snapped, waving her free hand at the green landscape outside the window. “Else I wouldn’t be living in a swamp.”
“It’s a marsh. I really need to teach you the difference.”
“I’ll add it to our ever-growing list of tasks,” she replied, sounding not at all enthused.
“So…?” He raised his brows.
“With all we have to get handled, you really want to add a wedding? That’s a lot of time, effort, and expense.”
“Yes. I have my priorities.”
“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”
Privately, he considered that Nic could likely talk him out of anything if she put the full fiery force of her will to it, but he wasn’t about to put that particular weapon in her hand. “Will you marry me, Nic?” he asked for the third time, hoping it would be the charm, as in the not-very-accurate tales of magic.
She pursed her full lips. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to have a big social event to counter the inevitable gossip about my ill-advised attempt to escape. And it will help to establish House Phel’s position in society, prove that you’re not as much of an impoverished bumpkin from the swamps as people believe. Of course, you’d have to raise the remainder of the house from the marshes and bogs if you want to invite guests and have them be impressed.”
“Speaking of time, effort, and expense.” He grimaced at the daunting thought.
Patting his cheek, she smiled with confidence. “Remember that you have the most powerful familiar in the Convocation to assist you now. Additional incentive for you to demand my dowry immediately: We’re going to need the money to dazzle the guests. And tell Papa to send my wedding gown. I had a really pretty one. If I’m going to have the wedding, I want that dress.”
“A society wedding, huh?” He’d been picturing an intimate family event, maybe in the peach orchard with the trees in blossom.
“Have you changed your mind?” she asked archly, a challenging glint in her eye.
“Not at all.” Though it made his skin crawl to think of those haughty Convocation wizards onhislands.
“Then I will marry you, Gabriel Phel.” She fluttered her lashes and kissed him. “Redundant though it may be, as you’re well and truly stuck with me.”
Before she could skip away, he caught her around the waist, indulging in a much longer kiss that left them both breathless. “Get dressed, and I’ll show you where the house accounts are.”
“Oh, darling,” she cooed. “You say the sweetest things.”