Did she need one? She was standing in the centre of the room, surrounded by servants, a vision of what a royal bride looked like. She felt so far out of her skin she might well be in outer space.
Tia was offering her the Crown Prince’s arm to support her as she went to this mock marriage.
Any arm at all, she thought blindly. So much for going into this all guns blazing. Her courage was somewhere below her elegantly shod toes.
‘Yes, please,’ she whispered. ‘And thank you for offering. I suspect I need any arm I can get.’
He hadn’t seen her for three days and he’d forgotten…or maybe he’d never known…that she could look like this.
Of course he’d never known she could look like this. A royal bride.
She was an ethereal vision, a confection of antique lace and satin. Her dress was superbly crafted to show the full swell of her breasts. Antique lace clung to each lovely curve. No bustles, he thought with approval as he watched her enter the chapel. No bows. He’d stipulated that, and the royal seamstresses had taken him at his word, but beyond that they’d indulged in every last fantasy to create a truly royal bride.
She was every inch a bride, every inch of her arranged as it should be, so she stood like Cinderella making her entrance to the ball. She was beautiful enough to take a man’s breath away. She was beautiful enough to entrance a prince…
His brother was surely entranced. The king-in-waiting stood by her side, waiting for the music to cue their slow steps along the aisle. Sebastian was in full regimentals, black and gold and crimson. This ceremony was designed to show the country that the royal family was not ashamed of this connection. This was a righting of past wrongs but it was being done with all the pomp and splendour they could muster.
Sebastian had been looking down at the girl on his arm as the chapel doors swung open, but now his gaze turned to his brother standing at the end of the aisle. What have we here? his gaze said. What am I doing, bringing beauty to you?
It was as much as Andreas could do not to walk forward and punch his lights out. That his brother touch her…
Yet this was his brother’s attempt to do the right thing. What was wrong with him that he object?
It was just…He didn’t want Holly to have anything to do with Sebastian. He didn’t want Holly to have anything to do with the royal family.
She was wearing one of the family tiaras. His mother must have lent it to her. He flashed a glance at Tia and saw his mother’s warm glance of approval.
They’d approved when he’d married Christina. If he’d brought Holly home when he should have brought her home…
This was out of kilter. Time out of frame.
Holly looked scared to death.
The background music faded. The royal trumpeter sounded forth, a single high call. The traditional bridal march for a royal.
The congregation stood. The royal household. Political dignitaries. All those who’d been deemed essential to be here.
Sebastian’s hand pressed Holly’s and she started the long walk towards him. Her face was parchment white, devoid of expression. It was almost as if Sebastian was pressuring her forward.
There was a murmur from those around them. His captive bride, being led to the slaughter.
‘Stop,’ he said and the congregation gasped as one.
Was he mad? Doing this at such a time?
But he wasn’t mad. He knew exactly what had to be done, regardless of who was watching. Before he could let any more doubt creep in he left the waiting priest and strode swiftly down the long aisle to meet his bride.
She looked up at him, dazed. Seemingly numb.
‘Leave her, Sebastian,’ he said, and when Sebastian opened his mouth to argue he fixed him with a look that might, in a bygone age, have seen his head on a block. To give such a look to his future king…But Sebastian was his brother and was, this day, of little import compared to the girl on his arm.
And Sebastian had the sense to see it. He gave his brother a quizzical smile and stepped back. The trumpeter’s notes faded into an uncertain murmur and then ceased altogether.
‘You look frightened,’ Andreas said and he took her hands in his and waited until she found the courage to look up at him.
‘N…no.’
‘Liar.’
‘Just overwhelmed,’ she managed.
‘Then don’t be,’ he said, speaking to her and only to her. ‘This is between you and me. A marriage between us. And I’m only Andreas, the boy you once loved.’
Who knew what those around were thinking? He couldn’t care. All he knew was that these few minutes were all he had to convince her to go through with this; not to bolt and run, but neither to submit in fear.
‘With a bold heart or not at all,’ he whispered, and she looked up at him as if he were a stranger.
‘A bold heart…’
‘You were never a coward, Holly,’ he said. ‘You can ride a half-broken horse bareback. You can take down a steer. You can ride muster at dawn with any man. Surely you can find it in your heart to take me on as well.’
There was a ripple of laughter through the chapel. This might be unconventional but it was romantic and even the politicians were smiling.
‘I’m not afraid of you,’ she whispered.
‘Then what, my heart?’
‘I…’
‘You want more time?’
That shocked her. Her eyes widened. She gazed at him, and then she looked around the chapel where the who’s who of Aristo were assembled waiting to see her marry.
And suddenly her smile was back, a glimmer at first, and then a full-on grin. ‘What, you’re offering me five minutes?’
‘Take six if you want.’
‘You’re all heart.’
‘You want to get married?’ he said. ‘We’re ready and waiting.’
‘You make it sound ordinary.’ The whole congregation could hear but neither of them were aware of it.
‘People do it every day. Just because you’re wearing a tiara…Take it off if it bothers you.’
‘You’d marry me without the tiara?’
‘I’d marry you with nothing on at all,’ he said and the uncertain smiles around the chapel became chuckles. This wasn’t what anyone had expected-in this atmosphere redolent of royal history and pageantry it was almost as if a breath of fresh air had blown through the chapel.
‘I reckon you wouldn’t,’ she said, and grinned and he could see the girl she’d once been; the girl she still was under the pain and loneliness the past had thrown at her.
‘I reckon I would.’ His eyes were daring her, laughing with her. ‘You want to try me?’
‘I reckon not,’ she whispered, but the tension was gone. He’d won, he thought. She was looking at him the way she’d looked at him all those years ago. As if he was just Andreas. Just a boy.
A boy to his girl. A man to his woman.
A bride to his groom.
‘With this ring I thee wed…’
He slipped the band of gold on her finger and she looked down at it and then looked at the man facing her. Andreas.
She’d dreamed of this moment. It had always been a girl’s romantic longing. Her Cinderella moment. Marrying her prince. And here she was, doing it for real.
Yet it was all fake. She was doing it for the sake of his country. The marriage would end and she’d go on as before.
Not as before. She stared at the wedding band, at Andreas’s strong fingers as he settled it in place, and then she looked up into his face.
Her husband.
She meant these vows.
Okay, this marriage might only last a few weeks but it was all she had. She’d waited for ten long years and here she was, hesitating, acting like a wilting violet. Making him talk her down the aisle. Responding to his vows with whispers.
She was no timid virgin and this was her husband. If she only had weeks…she’d go back to Munwannay and these memories would have to last for the rest of her life.
On the middle finger of her right hand she wore her father’s ring. It was a rough-cast band of gold that had been wrought from gold found on Munwannay. The seam had never amounted to anything but she could still remember the excitement when it had been found.
‘We’ll be rich,’ her father had exulted, swinging her round and round the kitchen in dizzy excitement. ‘I’ll be able to give you and your mother everything you want.’
He’d had two rings cast-wedding rings to cement the future. Heaven knew what her mother had done with hers-probably cast it away with the marriage-but her father had worn his until he died.
And now…
The priest was about to go on, assuming there was one ring only. But before he could do so, she’d tugged it off and handed it over.
‘Bless this,’ she whispered. ‘And then wear it, Andreas.’
She’d caught him by surprise. He’d never worn a wedding ring-there was no indent around his ring finger to say he’d worn a ring during his marriage to Christina.
For a moment she thought he’d refuse. She met his gaze, steadily, her look a challenge. Come on, this is under my terms as well.
His lips quirked into a glimmer of a smile.
‘Well, then,’ the priest said and there was a faint trace of relief in his voice. He took Holly’s ring and blessed it.
‘With this ring I thee wed.’
And then there was the party.
At what point had she stopped being the wilting bride? Andreas moved among the wedding guests and his gaze kept turning to his bride, over and over again.
She was talking and laughing and moving among the guests as if she were born to the occasion. Munwannay had always been a social hub and she’d been bred to society. He knew that, but he hadn’t expected this. The guest list meant that he had to do the expected. There were so many people who’d be offended if he slighted them today. So he couldn’t hold her tight to him; he had to work the crowd alone. He’d warned his family to look out for her; to protect her as much as they could, but it seemed Holly needed no protection.
She spoke his language almost perfectly. Her fluency stunned him. Yes, she’d learned it as a kid, as a shared intimacy with him, but that she’d kept it up…
She joked, she laughed, she seemed genuinely interested in those around her. She was working the crowd as much as he was.
Their people loved her. The crazy, intimate scene in the church had disarmed everyone who saw it and now she was taking full advantage of the good humour she’d engendered.
He saw Sebastian watching her from the sidelines and saw his brother’s dark eyes crease in admiration. And something else.
He’d been talking to a politician, an officious little man who was congratulating him on his choice of wife. ‘We were so concerned. Another scandal would have undone us all, yet you’ve turned the thing around.’
But when he saw Sebastian watching his bride, it was Andreas who turned around, apologizing brusquely and heading through the crowd to Holly’s side. It was the way Sebastian had looked at her. She was an innocent.
No. She was his wife.
The knowledge was like a blast of light through fog, an unbelievable fact that would disappear any moment. But for now…
‘Holly,’ he said and slipped his arm round her waist in a gesture that was entirely proprietary.
‘Hi,’ she said and snuggled up against him in a gesture that was entirely unroyal. ‘Having fun?’
‘I don’t do fun,’ he said without thinking, and she frowned.
‘What, never?’
‘This is work.’
‘No, but there are some really nice people here.’ She sighed. ‘I’m doing all my talking for the next fifty years. I’ll remember this back at Munwannay. What are we drinking?’
He looked at the glass she was holding-golden bubbles. ‘French champagne.’
‘I like it,’ she said. ‘I think I need more.’
‘Right now?’
‘Maybe not. A tipsy bride is not a good look. Do you think I can sneak away and check on Deefer?’
‘He’s in very good hands.’
‘Yes, but they’re not my hands. How long do wedding receptions last?’
‘Until the bride and groom leave.’
She brightened. ‘Hey, that’s us, right? So can we leave?’
Tia was suddenly there. His mother. She’d kept things under control since her husband died. If it weren’t for Tia…well, maybe the monarchy would have disintegrated long since, he thought. She was always where she was needed. Now she touched her son on his shoulder.
‘The older people need to leave. So, therefore, do you.’
‘That’s just what Holly’s been saying.’
‘She’s a wise child.’ Tia smiled her approval at Holly. ‘You’ve done very well, dear.’
Holly flushed. ‘I…thank you…’
‘For a captive bride,’ Andreas said without thinking, and he saw the flash of surprise that said she’d forgotten. For the moment.
But she suppressed it. The twinkle appeared again. ‘He gave me a dog,’ she told Tia, as if that explained everything.
‘He always was a kind boy,’ Tia said.
‘Kind, huh?’ Holly said, and gave him a look that almost had him blushing.
But Tia was into organizational mode. She wasn’t looking for nuances. ‘You know the people who need to be formally farewelled,’ she told Andreas. ‘The two of you do the rounds. Quickly though, or it’ll be said we slighted someone.’
‘We can’t split up and do ’em faster?’ Holly asked.
‘You don’t know who…’
‘I’m figuring it out,’ Holly said. ‘I’ve been watching. My mother brought me up on social nuances. I’m thinking I could point to every person here who’s likely to take offence. But you’re right, of course, I can’t be depended on and I really need to see my dog. Okay, my husband. Let’s get this lot farewelled so we can get on with our lives.’
It felt like an order. He felt…bossed. Holly moved through the dignitaries like a professional. As he steered her from person to person she greeted them with her hands outstretched, a royal bride receiving the attention she deserved.
She could do this, he thought with a shock. He glanced aside at his mother and saw her watching Holly and thought it wasn’t just him and his pride in her. She could be royal.
There was another shock, a smack in the solar plexus that went right along with the strange feel of the ring on his finger. If he’d married her ten years ago…
Right, as if that could have happened. When his father had been alive-no way. But now…He glanced further across the crowded reception room and there was Sebastian, still watching her. Smiling.
Royal approval, or simply Sebastian’s habitual reaction to a beautiful woman?
But if Sebastian approved…What had happened in the church today had changed things. Holly had become a real person to the country-a real princess?
Could they have a real marriage?
The thought was mind-blasting. It made his arm tighten on Holly’s waist so she looked up at him enquiringly. ‘Andreas?’
‘It’s time we went,’ he managed.
‘Yes, dear,’ she said and they were such a domestic couple of words that they made him blink. Then she smiled and the heat in his body kept right on building.
They had to go. He had to take her…away.
His wife.
CHAPTER EIGHT
S HE hadn’t counted on being dumped unceremoniously in the kitchen with Deefer, but that was exactly what happened.
The crowd parted as Andreas left with his wife. At the last minute he swept her up in his arms and they left behind a crowd cheering and wishing them the best. She lay submissive in his arms-what else was a bride to do, after all? But then instead of carrying her triumphantly up the grand central staircase to the royal bridal chamber-or wherever palaces accommodated newlywe
ds-he shoved door after door open, carrying her down into the rear of the castle to the servants’ quarters. Finally he swung open a last door and set her on her feet.
She almost staggered. The dress was a dead weight around her-she’d been carrying half a ton all day. She’d been too dazed to notice. When Andreas in his fabulous royal regalia was carrying her she didn’t care, but set down unceremoniously in the royal kitchen she found she did care. A lot.
The kitchen had vast, ancient flagstones, a range that took up half a wall, a table that could seat twenty or so-and little else. It was deserted, apart from Deefer who peered sleepily from a dog bed by the stove, gave his tail a perfunctory wag and then finally decided it did behove him to raise himself to welcome his mistress.
She bent to greet him and Andreas was already backing out the door. What the…?
‘Um…is the Cinderella thing over?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘Is it midnight yet? My gown’s still a gown.’
‘Stay here,’ he growled. ‘I didn’t expect…I have things to organize.’
‘You didn’t expect what?’ she demanded.
‘A wife,’ he said and paused, stepped forward, hauled her close and kissed her. One harsh, demanding and possessive kiss-and then he was gone. ‘Wait,’ he said over his shoulder as he strode away down the corridor. ‘Go nowhere.’
And where was a girl to go after that? Nowhere. Even if she could find her way back to her apartments through the corridors. Which she couldn’t.
So she sat by the stove in her ridiculous bridal gear and waited for her husband and tried to make herself think of something other than how she was married and she didn’t know what was going to happen and she was…scared?
Scared of something happening?
Um…no. Scared of something not happening.
What would happen if someone came in and found her here? The servants would come eventually, she thought. There she’d be when they came in to cook breakfast, the royal bride hugging her dog, looking ridiculous.
‘We’re in over our heads,’ she told Deefer, but Deefer was one tired pup and he simply curled up into a ball on the crazy lace confection covering her knees and slept again.
The Prince’s Captive Wife Page 10