Even the weather was perfect, just as Tessa had predicted last night. At nearly four thirty in the afternoon, the sun was still high up in the sky, but the temperature was a very pleasant seventy eight degrees with just the slightest of breezes.

The minister they’d chosen to conduct the ceremony was the brother of one of Ian’s executive staff, and Ian chatted with the officiant briefly as they began to take their places near the wedding arch. Hugh and Colin stood to his immediate left, serving as best man and groomsman respectively, and Ian knew there was no one else he’d rather have beside him at this moment than his brothers. Though the three of them currently lived on separate continents, there would always be this unbreakable bond between them that time and distance would never break.

Ian smiled and gave a brief nod as first Francine and Oliver Carrington were escorted up the white aisle runner to their seats, followed a minute later by his parents. His mother blew him a little kiss, while Edward gave him a wink. His heart ached a bit to think that Tessa had no real family of her own here, but those thoughts were quickly pushed aside as the string quartet began to play the processional music they had chosen - Puccini’s famous aria Nessun Dorma - and the tenor’s majestic voice rang through the outdoor chapel. It was the signal for all of their guests to rise as the wedding procession began.

Ian watched as first Sasha and then Julia, both looking lovely in their pale blue bridesmaid dresses, walked up the aisle to their places on the opposite side of the arch. And then he only had eyes for the woman who stood poised at the far end of the chapel, her slender hand resting on the crook of Simon’s elbow as they began the slow walk up the aisle.

He’d known, of course, that she would look beautiful, because even in her worst moments Tessa was gorgeous. But today, at this moment, she was so lovely that it literally took his breath away to look at her. The gown was perfect for her, the strapless, beaded bodice emphasizing the lean muscles of her arms and shoulders, the graceful length of her neck, the fullness of her breasts. Her waist looked tiny where the bodice nipped in, and the full tulle skirts gave the gown an almost fairytale-like feel. Exactly, thought Ian faintly, like Cinderella.

Her blue eyes were glowing with happiness, while her wide smile lit up her whole face. Save for a few curls that had been gathered up at the sides and pinned on top of her head, her lustrous blonde hair fell in long, thick waves over her shoulder and down her back. A short veil of ivory lace skimmed her shoulders and upper back, while the diamonds and pearls that adorned his great-grandmother’s priceless tiara reflected off the late afternoon sun. Her full, lush mouth was glossed over in a pale rose that just about matched the natural blush of her cheeks.

Every eye in the place was focused on the beautiful bride, and especially his own. About halfway up the aisle, Tessa glanced up and met his gaze, and from that moment on everyone else gathered in the chapel - family, friends, the minister, photographer, musicians - ceased to exist. She appeared to clutch Simon’s arm a bit tighter as her step faltered slightly, then squared her shoulders decisively as each second brought her that much closer to Ian, to the moment when he would finally be able to claim her as his own for the rest of their lives.

Ian waited with barely concealed impatience as Simon bent to kiss Tessa’s cheek, smiling at her with the sort of tenderness a real father might have shown his beloved daughter. And then, just as the tenor reached the very highest note of the aria, Simon placed Tessa’s hand on top of Ian’s and stepped away.

“Hello, beautiful,” Ian mouthed, knowing that his voice wouldn’t be heard over the sound of the music.

Tessa beamed, mouthing “Hello yourself, handsome,” in return, and then squeezed his hand as they turned to face the minister.

The ceremony was relatively brief, their vows the traditional ones that had been spoken millions of times before between bride and groom. Ian’s normally strong, confident voice wavered once or twice, while Tessa had to choke back tears more than once. They exchanged matching diamond studded platinum rings as the minister pronounced them man and wife.

“And now, Ian, you may kiss the bride,” the officiant declared cheerfully.

Ian smiled at his brand new wife in a very suggestive, very sensual way as he cupped her face in his hands tenderly. “With the greatest of pleasure,” he whispered for Tessa’s ears only, just before capturing her lips beneath his in a long, very thorough kiss.

Tessa’s hands fluttered up to rest against his shoulders, opening her mouth eagerly to his seeking tongue, and it was only the sound of her moaning in pleasure that finally caused him to break the deeply passionate kiss. Ian knew that the image of him French kissing his bride would have been captured by two hundred cell phone cameras, would likely be splashed over an untold number of social media pages, but for once in his life he couldn’t care less about his privacy. He wanted the whole world, in fact, to know of his love for this woman, of the passion that made their relationship so rare and so special, and that she now belonged to him for the rest of his life.

“I love you, Mrs. Gregson,” he whispered against her lips.

Her blue eyes were misty with tears as she touched his cheek with reverence. “I love you, too,” she whispered back.

The minister then instructed them to turn and face their guests, jovially proclaiming, “It’s my pleasure to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Ian Gregson!”

The applause and cheers and whistles nearly deafened Ian as he placed his bride’s hand firmly in the crook of his arm, and began to guide her down the aisle towards the back of the chapel. Guests eagerly blew bubbles at them from the tiny tubes that had been handed out before the start of the ceremony, and cameras continued to flash constantly as everyone tried to get a photo of the newly married couple. Within seconds, all of the familiar faces become not much more than a blur to Ian, and he gave up trying to pick individuals out of the crowd.

From that point on, events unfolded one after the other, and at far too brisk a pace for Ian’s liking. As he’d predicted, there were dozens more photos to take of the bride and groom, the wedding party, his parents. He and Tessa were obliged to sign the marriage certificate, and then they were finally able to join their guests for champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

They were instantly surrounded by well wishers, a nonstop bombardment of guests who shook their hands, kissed their cheeks, congratulated them, and for those who had yet to meet her, receive an introduction to Tessa. After more than an hour of this, it was a relief to have the call made for dinner, and Ian steered his bride in the direction of their sweetheart table determinedly.