by Kate Hewitt
‘Well, now you can assume differently.’
‘Assuming I can get pregnant in the first place.’
He shrugged. ‘Is there any reason you believe you cannot?’
‘No.’ She couldn’t believe they were talking about having a baby together so clinically, and yet somehow it didn’t surprise her at all. Mateo was approaching the whole matter of their marriage in as scientific a way as possible, which she didn’t mind, not exactly.
‘What about love?’ she asked baldly. ‘I know you didn’t approach me because of love, but is it something that could happen in time? Something you’d hope for?’ A long silence ensued, which told her everything.
‘Is that something you would wish?’ Mateo asked finally. ‘Something you would hope for?’
Which sounded pathetic, and was the exact reason why she’d thought this whole idea was ridiculous in the first place. Well, that and a lot of other reasons, too.
And yet...was it? Did she want the fairy-tale romance, to fall head over heels in love with someone? With Mateo? Falling head over heels sounded painful. And from her limited experience with Josh, it had been. Did she really want that again, just because everyone around her—on TV, in books—seemed to assume it was?
When she and Mateo had first started working together, she’d had a bit of a crush on him and she’d worked to get over it. And she had. Did she really want to feel that soul-pinching, gut-churning sensation of liking someone more than he liked you, and in this case to a much more serious degree? Wouldn’t it be easier if they just both agreed to keep that off the table for ever?
‘Honestly, I don’t know,’ she said slowly. ‘It’s what everyone assumes you should want.’
‘Maybe between the pages of a book like the one on your coffee table, but not in real life. Feelings like that fade, Rachel. What we have—what we could have—would be real.’
‘You don’t need to sound quite so dismissive about the whole idea,’ Rachel returned.
‘Not dismissive,’ Mateo countered. ‘Sensible. And I think you’re sensible, as well.’ He held her gaze, his aquamarine eyes like lasers. Not for the first time, Rachel wondered why he had to be so beautiful. It would be so much easier if he was more normal looking. Average.
‘So you’re not interested in falling in love?’ she asked, unsure if her tone was pathetic or joking or somewhere in between. ‘I just want to make sure.’
Mateo was silent for a long, painful moment. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘I am not.’
She nodded, absorbing that, recognising that at least then the whole issue would be off the table. Not something to be discussed or hoped for, ever. Could she live with that? Was she sensible enough? ‘I have my mother to consider,’ she said at last, hardly able to believe they were now talking about real practicalities. ‘She has Alzheimer’s. She needs my care.’
‘That is not a problem. She can accompany us to Kallyria, where she will receive top medical care, her own suite of rooms, and a full-time nurse.’
‘I don’t know if she could cope with that much change. She struggled to move here from Sussex.’
‘If it is preferable, she could stay in Cambridge. I can arrange her care at the best residential facility in the area immediately.’
Rachel sighed. Thinking of her mother made her feel anxious—and guilty. Because the thought of escaping the mundanity of her life with her mother, the constant complaining and criticism that she’d faced her whole life and that had become only worse with her mother’s disease, was wonderfully liberating.
‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘I suppose I could discuss it with her.’ A prospect that made her stomach cramp.
‘If it helps, I could do that with you,’ Mateo said, and for a second Rachel felt as if she’d put on a pair of 3D glasses. She could see the whole world in an entirely different dimension.
If she married Mateo, she wouldn’t have to do everything alone. She’d have someone advocating for her, supporting her, and backing her up. Someone to laugh with, to share life with, to discuss ideas and sleep next to. What did love have on any of that? Suddenly, blindingly, it was obvious. Wonderfully obvious.
‘Thank you,’ she said after a moment, her voice shaky, her mind still spinning.
‘It’s not a problem at all.’ Mateo paused, his hands flat on the table as he gave her a direct look. ‘While I recognise the seriousness of your decision, and the understandable need for time to consider, I am afraid matters are quite pressing. The situation in my country is urgent.’
‘Urgent?’
‘The instability of rule has led to a rise in insurgency. Nothing that cannot be dealt with, but it means I need to be back in Kallyria, firmly on my throne, my wife at my side, as soon as possible.’
‘How soon as possible do you mean?’ Rachel asked as she grappled with the whole idea of insurgency and Mateo needing to deal with it.
‘Tomorrow would be best.’
‘Tomorrow...?’ She gaped at him. ‘Mateo, I’d have to give at least a term’s notice—’
‘That can be dealt with.’
‘My mother—’
‘Again, it can be dealt with.’
‘My flat...’
‘I can arrange for it to be sold or kept, as you wish.’
She’d worked hard to save for that flat. Prices in Cambridge had skyrocketed over the last decade and, even on a researcher’s salary, buying the flat had been a stretch. Rachel took a quick, steadying breath. ‘I don’t know. This is a lot quicker than I expected.’
‘I understand.’ Yet his tone was implacable. He understood, but he would not change the terms. And that, Rachel realised, was an attitude she would encounter and have to accept again and again if she said yes.
‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘Can I think about it for a little while, at least? A night, and I’ll tell you first thing in the morning?’
Mateo hesitated, and Rachel knew even that felt like too long to him. Then he gave a brief nod. ‘Very well. But if you do say yes, Rachel, I will have to put things in motion very quickly.’
‘I understand.’
He hesitated, then reached over and covered her hand with his own, his palm warm and large and comforting on hers. ‘I know this all seems quite overwhelming. There are so many different things to consider. But I do believe, Rachel, I believe completely, that we could have a very successful and happy marriage. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe that absolutely.’
She nodded, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. Already she knew what her answer would be.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RACHEL PEERED OUT of the window as the misty grey fog of an English autumn grew smaller below and the plane lifted into a bright azure sky. It was the day after Mateo’s proposal, and they were on the royal Kallyrian jet, for an overnight flight to Constanza.
Rachel’s head was still spinning from how quickly everything had happened. Mateo had escorted her home, kissed her cheek, and told her he would ring her at seven in the morning for her answer.
Back in her flat, with her mother parked in front of a television on highest volume and the burnt smell of her toastie still hanging in the air, Rachel had felt the smallness of her existence descend on her like a thick fog. When she’d opened a patronising email from Supercilious Simon, it had been the push she hadn’t even needed.
She was going to say yes. As crazy as it seemed, as risky as it might be, she believed in her heart that life was meant for living, not just existing, and without Mateo in it that was what hers had become. A matter of survival.
She spent a sleepless night trying to imagine her future and unable to come up with anything more than hazy, vague scenes out of a Grace Kelly film, or maybe The Princess Diaries. When her mobile buzzed next to her bed at seven o’clock precisely, her stomach whirled with nerves—but also excitement
.
‘Mateo?’
‘Have you decided?’
She took a breath, let it fill her lungs. She felt as if she were leaping and twirling into outer space. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I say yes.’
Mateo had sprung instantly into action. He’d disconnected the call almost immediately, saying he would come over within the next half-hour to begin arrangements.
‘My mother...’ Rachel had begun, starting to panic. ‘She doesn’t do well with change...’
‘We will make her transition as smooth as possible,’ Mateo promised her, and it had been. He’d left her mother speechless and simpering under the full wattage of his charm, and that very afternoon the three of them had toured the high-end nursing home on the outskirts of Cambridge that had a private facility for memory-impaired residents.
Carol had seemed remarkably pleased with it all—the private room was far larger and more luxurious than the one she currently had, and the nursing home had a full schedule of activities. And when Rachel had explained she would be moving away, her mother hadn’t been bothered in the least. Not, Rachel acknowledged with a sigh, that that had been much of a surprise.
Still, it all seemed so incredibly, head-spinningly fast. Her mother was already settled in the nursing home; Rachel and Mateo had moved her over that very evening. A lump had formed in Rachel’s throat as she’d hugged her mother goodbye. Who knew when or if she’d see her again? Yet her mother had barely seemed aware of her departure; she’d turned away quickly, intent on investigating the lounge area with its large flat-screen TV. As she’d watched her mother shuffle away, it had seemed hard to believe that she’d once been the sophisticated and erudite wife of a prominent academic.
‘Bye, Mum,’ she’d whispered, and then she’d walked away without looking back.
Back at her flat, Rachel had packed her things up in a single suitcase, since Mateo had assured her she would not need anything once she was in Kallyria; all would be provided. He advised only to take keepsakes and mementoes, of which she had very few.
It felt a little sad, a bit pathetic, to leave an entire life behind so easily. She’d email her friends once she reached Kallyria, and Mateo had promised her that he would pay for anyone she wished to attend the wedding to be flown over. He’d dealt with her job situation, and she’d felt a flicker of sorrow that, after ten years, she could both walk away and be let go so easily. But Cambridge was a transient place; people moved in and out all the time. Even after ten years, she was just one more.
Still, Rachel told herself as the royal jet levelled out, there was no point in being melancholy. She was about to embark on the adventure of a lifetime, and she wanted to enjoy it.
She glanced at Matteo, who was sitting across from her in a sumptuous seat of white leather, frowning down at his laptop. Since securing her hand in marriage, he had paid very little attention to her, but Rachel hadn’t minded. He had much to attend to, a country to rule and, besides, she wasn’t one to want to be fussed over.
Still, she wouldn’t have minded a bit of conversation now.
‘I feel like we should have champagne,’ she said a bit playfully, and Mateo looked up from his screen with a frown.
‘Champagne? Of course.’ He snapped his fingers and a steward materialised silently, as if plucked from the air.
‘Yes, Your Highness?’
That was something that was going to take a lot of getting used to. Despite Mateo’s obvious and understated displays of both wealth and power, she realised she hadn’t fully believed in the whole king thing until she’d stepped on the royal jet, and everyone had started bowing and curtseying and ‘Your Highnessing’ him. It had been weird.
The steward produced a bottle of bubbly with the kind of label Rachel could only dream of, popped the cork and poured two crystalline flutes full.
‘Cheers,’ Rachel said a bit tartly. During this whole elegant procedure, Mateo hadn’t so much as looked up from his screen.
She took a large sip of the champagne, which was crisp and delicious on her tongue. Another sip, and finally Mateo looked up.
He took in the open bottle chilling in a silver bucket, his untouched flute, and Rachel’s expression with a small, rueful smile.
‘I apologise.’ He reached for his glass and touched it to hers, his gaze warm and intent. ‘As we say in Kallyria, yamas.’
‘I don’t even know what language that is,’ Rachel confessed, wrinkling her nose. ‘Or what language you speak in Kallyria.’
‘It is Greek, and it means health or, more prosaically, cheers.’
‘Do you speak Greek?’
‘Yes, and Turkish.’
‘Wow.’ She realised how little she knew about, well, anything. ‘I should have done an Internet search on you last night.’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘You didn’t?’
‘I was too busy thinking about whether or not I was going to marry you.’ Although really she’d already decided. She’d spent most of the evening walking around in a daze, doing nothing productive.
‘You can ask me what you like. There will be a lot to learn.’
‘Yes.’ Rachel could see that already. ‘What’s going to happen when we land?’
‘I’ve had our arrival at Constanza embargoed—’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I am not alerting the media and no press will be allowed.’
‘Okay.’ She tried to process that for a moment, and failed. ‘Why?’
‘Because I want to control all the information,’ Mateo answered swiftly. ‘When we arrive at the royal palace, I will take you to meet my mother.’
Rachel swallowed. ‘Have you told her about me?’
‘Yes, she is greatly looking forward to making your acquaintance.’
‘That’s nice,’ Rachel said faintly. She didn’t know why she was starting to feel so alarmed; she’d known this was the kind of thing she was signing up for. And yet now it was starting to feel so very real. ‘And then what?’
‘Then you will meet with your stylist and hairdresser,’ Mateo answered. ‘They are temporary only, as I am sure you will like to select your own staff when the times comes.’
‘I’ve never had staff before,’ Rachel said with a nervous laugh. She took a gulp of champagne to steady her nerves.
‘You do now.’ Mateo nodded towards the stewards in the front cabin of the aircraft. ‘Everyone who works for me works for you.’
‘Right.’ Something else she could not get her head around.
‘When you have finished with the stylists, you will be introduced to Kallyria.’
‘Introduced to a country? How is that meant to happen?’ Already her mouth was drying, her heart beginning to hammer at the thought.
‘There is a balcony from where royalty has traditionally made all such announcements. I shall introduce you, we will wave, and then retire into the palace. Some time in the next week we will hold an engagement ball where you will meet all the dignitaries and statesmen you need to, and then we will marry next Saturday.’
‘Wait, what? That’s only a week from now.’
Mateo’s brows snapped together as he regarded her evenly, his flute of champagne held between two long, lean fingers. ‘Is that a problem? You are aware of the urgency of the situation.’
Rachel swallowed dryly. ‘It’s not a problem. Just...give me a moment to get my head around it.’
‘Very well.’ Mateo turned back to his laptop, and Rachel sipped the last of her champagne, her mind feeling like so much buzzing noise. After a few moments she excused herself with a murmur and went to the back of the plane, where there was a sumptuous bedroom with a king-sized bed and an en suite bathroom all in marble.
Rachel sank onto the bed and looked around her in as much of a daze as ever, if not more. What was she doing here, really?
Mateo straightene
d the cuffs of his suit as he waited for Rachel to emerge from the bedroom where she was changing into a fresh outfit to exit the plane.
He’d spent the majority of the flight working, grabbing an hour of sleep in his seat while Rachel had retired to the bedroom as soon as she’d drunk her champagne, and she hadn’t come out again until an hour before landing.
Mateo had checked in on her halfway through the flight, and seen her still in her clothes, curled up on top of the covers, fast asleep. Her hair was spread across the pillow just as he’d once imagined, and as he gazed at her he realised he’d never seen her sleep before, and yet from now on he would many times over.
The thought had brought a shaft of—something—to him. Something he wasn’t sure he wanted to name, because he couldn’t discern how it made him feel.
He’d rushed into marriage because he’d had to, and he’d done it with Rachel because at least he knew and trusted her. But watching her sleep, he was accosted by the realisation of how intimate their lives together would have to be, no matter how much he kept a certain part of himself closed off, a part that he hadn’t accessed in fifteen years, since Cressida.
No matter how physically intimate they might be, no matter how close they might become, Mateo knew there was only so much he could ever offer Rachel. Only so much he knew how to give, and he had to trust that it would be enough. It certainly would be for him, and it had better be for her, because he didn’t have anything else.
Straightening his tie, he gave his reflection one last glance before he went to knock on the bedroom door.
‘We’re landing in twenty minutes, Rachel. We need to take our seats.’
‘All right.’ She opened the door, throwing her shoulders back as she gave him a smile that bordered on terrified. ‘Do I look all right?’
‘You look fine,’ Mateo assured her, because the media wouldn’t be there and so it didn’t matter. In truth he acknowledged that she would benefit from the help of a stylist. The shapeless trouser suit and plain ponytail that had served her so well for over ten years in academia were not exactly the right look for a queen, something he suspected Rachel was completely aware of. She certainly seemed aware of any potential deficiencies in her persona, and Mateo was determined to assuage her concerns.