Karen sorted through her dresses, then came out with one. “What about this?”
The dress was another mermaid gown, though one-shouldered, and heavily beaded across the bodice. It was sparkly, where my dress was a satinlike finish, and while it had more bling, Nerissa could pull it off. The floral beaded accents would play off the embroidery on my own, and the colors were close enough not to be jarring. The hem trailed to about the same length mine did, and together, the two looked good.
“I think that will work.” Nerissa stood and examined it. “What do you think?” She turned to me, holding it up to her.
“You’ll look great in it. Okay, we’ll try these on. Meanwhile, go ahead and start finding bridesmaids’ dresses that will work for Delilah and Camille, please.”
Karen and Linda led us back to a large dressing room. As we undressed, I saw them both stare at me for a moment and I knew they were looking at my scars, but neither said a word. They quickly fitted us into the dresses. The only problem was that mine was too long on me.
“That may be a problem given the embroidery on the train. It’s about three inches too long for you. Can you handle heels?” Linda frowned, scrunching up her face.
“I can handle them.” Truth was, I never wore heels that high, but I figured if worse came to worst, I could ask for Camille’s help. And, from my sister’s expertise, I knew that if I found a pair of platform pumps, I could go to four inches without a problem.
“Then you’re sure?” Linda got a playful look on her face. “Are you two saying—”
“Stop! Don’t even ask it.” Nerissa stopped her before I could. “We’ll take them.”
When we were done and back in our clothes, we returned to find that Camille and Delilah had been fitted in simple deep black, A-line mermaid dresses with plunging halter top necklines. With the addition of thin gold belts and simple gold necklaces, the dresses looked elegant; they mimicked the wedding gowns’ styles and yet didn’t overpower either of my sisters. Camille had the cleavage and Delilah had the height to handle the gowns.
“Looks good to me,” I said.
“This has been one of the easiest dress searches I think I’ve ever overseen.” Hilde grinned. “Usually somebody in the wedding party is having histrionics over this dress or that. And we almost always go through a half-dozen gowns, if not more.”
I could hear the underlying curiosity beneath the words. I decided to give her some gossip for the trouble of pulling her out of her bed in the middle of the night.
“This is going to be a very unusual wedding, Hilde.” I tried to suppress a laugh. “Given that Nerissa here, and I, are already married, and we’re marrying into a royal vampire clan.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really? So you are marrying . . .”
“We’re marrying a vampire prince. Together.” I winked at her. Beside me, I could hear Nerissa stifle a snort.
“A prince . . . wait—a prince? Just one?”
I nodded. “Yes, we’re both to be his wives.” And with that, we took our purchases—thoroughly protected by garment bag covers—and returned to the limousine. We kept quiet till we got home and the driver dropped us off. I didn’t want to say anything that could be reported back to Roman and his mother, quite possibly to be taken the wrong way.
“You’re bad, Menolly.” Camille laughed as we trudged up the steps of the front porch. “But you made her night. She’ll have something to talk about, for sure. Did you see the prices on those dresses?”
I shook my head. “I have to admit, I didn’t.”
“I was standing by the woman who was writing up the invoice. Yours was ten thousand, Nerissa’s was twelve . . . and Delilah and I—our gowns were five thousand each.”
Thirty-two thousand dollars’ worth of dresses for one political evening. I didn’t even want to think about what the cost would be if we’d had more time before the wedding. Roman would have insisted on custom work, if that were the case.
“Hey, what about shoes? I need platform heels.” I had nothing of the sort in my closet at home, and Nerissa’s feet were far larger than mine. Camille might have a pair I could wear, but they’d still be big. “I need four-inch heels to manage that dress.”
“I can pick them out for you tomorrow. I know your size and I can find something that will work for one evening.” Camille shrugged. “Underwear?”
“I’ve got underwear, and I’m not buying special panties just for Roman. This is a political assignation, not a love-based union. We’re not spending the night with him in the honeymoon suite.” I drew the line there. Besides, the wedding itself would involve a blood bond, I knew that much, and that was considered more binding than sex among vampires.
As we entered the living room, it was apparent the guys weren’t about to go to bed without us. They were all there, fueling up on cookies and chips.