Roxanne sat back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, her eyes never leaving the scene before her. The soft glow of the room chandelier painted gold across the room, glimmering off the silken fabric of Vivianne's gown as the maids worked carefully to dress her.
Layers of ivory and pale rose wrapped around her figure like water poured over marble. Every ribbon tied and every clasp fastened felt like a small act of worship.
"Wife," Vivianne said at last, catching Roxanne's gaze through the mirror, her cheeks blooming with color. "Could you stop staring? "
Roxanne tilted her head, her smirk forming slowly. "Why should I? " she asked. "I'm your wife. It's my right to stare."
Vivianne turned slightly, her blush deepening. "I'm shy," she murmured, lowering her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.
