To Catch a Star

by Romy Sommer

  “Then let’s do it.” He held out his arm and she took it. They moved towards the doors.

  Tessa had stood inside Neustadt’s Notre Dame cathedral hundreds of times over the years, yet she’d never seen it as beautiful as it looked today. Sunlight streamed through tall medieval stained-glass windows onto the uneven flag-stoned floor. The organ’s music swelled, joined by a choir of young voices.

  The scene was so breathtaking that tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them back. She didn’t want to test Marie’s claim that the mascara was waterproof.

  Not with the cameras all pointing in her direction.

  They stood in the ante-chamber, behind the flower girls and page boys, who itched to be moving, though Anna held them back until the music changed.

  Tessa’s hand trembled on the herringbone-wool sleeve of her father’s morning coat. He turned to look at her, a mixture of love and pride shining in his eyes. She knew she was a credit to him. The perfect daughter, the perfect bride, marrying the perfect man.

  It was all just too perfect.

  “Connie Hewitt didn’t steal the ring,” she said. “It was given to her.”

  “What?” Her father faced her. “We can talk about this later, Teresa.”

  “No, we can’t. There was no treason and no one close to the royal family betrayed their trust.”

  He frowned. “Then who gave it to her?”

  “Archduke Christian.”

  He looked puzzled. “Why would he do that?”

  “Because she was pregnant with his child.”

  The organ shifted into “Here Comes the Bride”. She’d never liked the tune and would have preferred something less clichéd, but she’d gone with the tradition anyway.

  It’s what everyone will expect.

  The assembled crowd rose to its feet, hundreds of smiling faces turned to look at her. Her father, experienced as he was at hiding his feelings, took a moment to school his features into a smile. She suspected she was the only one not smiling.

  She wanted to check her cleavage. She heard the echo of Christian’s advice: Whatever you do, don’t look down.

  She hadn’t needed it then, but she needed it now. She lifted her chin.

  She could do this. She had to do this.

  By now Christian would be in the air, heading home to Los Pajaros. No longer the bastard, but a bastard prince.

  She set one foot in front of the other, matching her father’s precise processional march.

  She still hadn’t seen Stefan. He was obscured from her by the guests. She couldn’t think of them as friends and family. Most of the them were people she barely knew. Her father’s business associates. Stefan’s family, his friends, his business associates.

  What was Los Pajaros like? Was it hot and dusty and sweaty, or did the breeze smell of coconut and flowers? Did champagne taste any different drunk on a Caribbean beach than it did in a Parisian hotel?

  As they neared the front of the cathedral’s nave, dominated by the ornately carved wooden pulpit that pre-dated the Reformation, she caught sight of a row of familiar faces. This time she didn’t blink back the tears.

  Anna. Lee. Anton. Marie. Max and his fiancée Phoenix.

  She’d once believed Max would be her brother-in-law. That it would be Fredrik she’d be moving down the aisle to meet.

  Fredrik, who she’d known her whole life. Just as she’d known Stefan. They’d all moved in the same elite circles, attended the same debutantes’ balls, the horse races, the palace garden parties.

  Fear gripped her. This was her world. The only world she’d ever known. By walking down this aisle and taking Stefan’s hand she’d be safe in that world forever.

  You’re scared. Christian’s voice vibrated in her head.

  She was no longer scared of losing everything. She’d already lost the one person who mattered most. No, what scared her was that the things she’d wanted – the things she’d believed she wanted – would smother her.

  Again, the strangled feeling gripped her, the same feeling she’d had the night of the charity banquet when Christian leapt into her car. The fear had blinded her to everything else then, but now her eyes were wide open.

  The only moments she hadn’t felt that fear this last month were the moments when Christian had been near.

  But could she do this alone?

  Look at what happened when her mother left the safety of their clique. Amalie had died alone and bitter, lost. She’d died with a stomach full of sleeping pills and only been found three days later.

  Stefan stepped into her line of vision. Debonair in his dove-grey morning suit, with a white rose clipped to his lapel, the ivory satin of his waistcoat impeccably uncreased.

  His warm gaze met hers. He smiled.

  Her step faltered.

  Her father gripped her arm, steadying her. But she didn’t know if anything could steady the off-balance feeling inside. The feeling that she was making a terrible mistake.

  There was nothing she could do about it now.

  Not with everyone watching, expectant. It was too late now.

  And Christian’s plane should be somewhere over the Canary Islands, heading out across the Atlantic. She’d never been across the Atlantic before. Would Stefan take her with him on his next business trip to the States?

  She handed her bouquet of blood-red roses to her maid of honour, a distant cousin she only ever saw at weddings and funerals.

  Her father passed her hand to Stefan, who took it with a slight squeeze.

  Stefan smiled, open and encouraging. But there was something missing.

  It wasn’t just the spark she felt with Christian. Chemistry was, after all, nothing more than a mix of fallible hormones. Chemistry didn’t last. Sparks died out.

  But there was something else missing. That light she’d seen in Christian’s eyes.

  Stefan was a good man. He was honest and honourable. He cared for her. He’d take care never to hurt her. He’d be a solid provider and a loving father. He was a considerate lover.

  He didn’t treat her as if she were a treasure he’d unearthed. He didn’t love her.

  The way that Christian did.

  Oh God, what had she done?

  Christian exited the hotel behind the porter, who wheeled his luggage to the rear of the car and helped Frank load it into the boot.

  Where the hell was Dominic? They were already late for their flight. Not that it mattered, since they’d chartered their own plane, but pilots got snippy about things like that.

  He glanced back at the entrance of the hotel. But it wasn’t Dominic he was missing.

  Frank opened the door for him. “It feels strange leaving without her,” he said.

  Christian slid into the rear seat of the sedan. Not just strange. It felt wrong.

  But he couldn’t turn the clock back. He was no longer angry with Tessa. He’d had some time these last few days to shift his perspective. He hadn’t planned on returning to Westerwald. The more space he could put between him and Tessa, the better.

  But curiosity had won out. He’d come back to Neustadt, this time as a tourist. He’d explored this town he’d been conceived in and learned its history. He’d met Max.

  He rubbed his face. His eyes hurt. He hadn’t slept in days.

  So Tessa hadn’t seduced him for her own devious ends. It had taken him all of two seconds after she walked out to remember she hadn’t exactly thrown herself at him. She’d been reluctant and he’d had to work to seduce her.

  But that didn’t matter.

  He’d bared his soul to her, and she’d lied to him.

  That did matter.

  And she’d chosen Stefan over him.

  She’d gone and taken with her all the light and meaning and joy in his life, and there was nothing he could do to bring it back.

  Frank shut the door, sealing Christian into a warm, safe cocoon. He sank his head in his hands and waited for Frank to get in the driver’s seat and fire up the engine. The door opened and shu
t, but the engine did not rev to life. Christian looked up.

  Frank contemplated him in the mirror. “We could swing past the cathedral on the way to the airport. We still have about fifteen minutes before she walks down the aisle.”

  Had Frank gone insane? “I have absolutely no desire to see her marry someone else.”

  “I thought you might want to stop the wedding,” Frank explained patiently.

  “She doesn’t want me. That enough information for you to start the engine and leave my love life alone?”

  Frank shrugged and turned the key.

  The door opened and Dominic slung his hold-all inside. “Sorry I’m late. What have I missed?”

  “I suggested to Mr Taylor he might want to make a stop on the way to the airport, however it seems he’s disinclined to.”

  “Don’t bother. I already tried.” Dominic flopped onto the seat beside his bag, and shut the door. “He doesn’t want to listen.”

  Christian frowned. They had a plane to catch, and he wasn’t in the mood for this.

  “Just to be clear. Tessa doesn’t want me.”

  The pain clawed at his chest again, as if a tiger was inside trying to get out.

  Dom and Frank exchanged looks.

  “Of course she wants you,” Dom sighed his impatience. “Want me to go online to Huff Post Celebrity and pull up the pictures of you leaving the premiere the other night? Cause any fool can see the two of you are hopelessly gone on each other.”

  “Then why is she marrying some other guy?”

  “Because she’s scared.”

  What did Tessa have to be scared of? She lived in her safe little bubble. She had respect, wealth, family – all the things he still didn’t take for granted.

  But she’d said that Stefan would never abandon her. And Christian, fool that he was, had done nothing to persuade her he wouldn’t. Or that they could make this work. Not just for a weekend, but for a lifetime.

  He still wasn’t sure he could.

  “The thing I’ve learned from having four sisters,” Dom said, as if discussing the weather outside the windows. “Is that girls are even more messed-up and confused than we are. And sometimes they make mistakes.”

  “She was very clear about what mistakes she made,” Christian replied bitterly. Not so clear on the biggest of them all, though. “She believes she’s better off without me. She gets to have her perfect home and her perfect family.” And maybe she was right. He sighed. “I can’t guarantee any of that. I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to relationships. The people I love tend to end up hurt.”

  “Nothing in life is guaranteed.” Frank said. He still hadn’t started driving, Christian noticed.

  Dominic laughed. “You have no track record when it comes to relationships. But you love the woman, and that’s got to count for something. Tessa is not your mother. Besides, you’re not the one who hurt your mother. You didn’t choose to be born and you didn’t make her decisions for her.”

  “What if I make Tessa unhappy?”

  “Yeah, cos she’s going to be so happy married to someone she doesn’t love.”

  Christian glowered at his friend. He wasn’t making this any easier. “I’m leaving because it’s the right thing to do.”

  Dominic threw his head back and laughed. Long and loud.

  Christian glared at him with a growing desire to plant a fist in his face. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’ve spent your entire life condemning your mother for walking away without a fight, and now you’re doing exactly the same thing. You are such a wuss!”

  “Am not.” The retort came automatically, through long years of practice, but Dominic’s words gave him pause. Was he repeating the mistakes of the past?

  Was he doing exactly what his mother had done? When he’d only seen her through the eyes of a hurt child, he hadn’t understood the choices she’d made. But now he knew she’d had a bloody good reason for leaving. Even if his father had married her, her position in this little country would have been untenable. She might have cost Archduke Christian his crown. And their son would still have been an outcast.

  She’d done the right thing.

  But she’d paid a high price. She lost her family, her career, her reputation. And she’d never loved again.

  “My reasons are every bit as good as my mother’s were,” he said.

  Teresa faced many of the same pressures his father had. Marrying an actor, and a bastard to boot, even if his father was royal, was hardly going to go down well in her social circles. She might lose the only family she had… her home. Everything.

  But this wasn’t the Seventies.

  Family isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. His mother had said that once.

  Tessa gave him that feeling. When she’d lain in his arms, and trusted herself to him, he’d found the sense of belonging he’d craved his entire life.

  Could she feel the same?

  “So are you going to get your head out of your ass and do something about it?” Dominic asked.

  Christian looked at Frank. “How quickly can you get us to the church?”

  Dominic held up his fist for a fist-pump.

  “It’ll be tight, but I’ll do my best,” Frank said. With a scream of tyres he pulled away from the hotel entrance and headed in the opposite direction from the airport.

  “This is like a scene from a movie,” Dom said, flashing his grin at Christian. “Except in the movies, there’s always a massive traffic jam and the hero has to borrow some kid’s bike or a policeman’s horse to get to the church on time. I haven’t seen any police on horseback in this town. Lots of bicycles, though.”

  “This better not be like any goddamn movie!” Christian said through clenched teeth.

  Then he swore.

  No bicycles or horses needed, but there was a damned police cordon blocking off the entire street leading to the cathedral.

  “Leave it to me,” Frank said, keeping his calm. A uniformed officer waved them to a stop, and he rolled down the window. “Mr Taylor’s late for the wedding. Can you give us an escort to the cathedral?”

  The guard peered into the car, and Christian thanked every god imaginable that this was such a small country.

  “You again,” the officer said. “No fans chasing you down today, I hope?”

  Christian shook his head and the grinning officer waved to a policeman on a bike complete with flashing blue lights to escort them through the barricades.

  He’d never done anything this daft in his life. He was probably about to get himself on the front pages of the world’s papers and for all the wrong reasons. The tabloids were going to have a field day.

  And his father, the father who may or may not have known he existed, must be rolling in his grave about now.

  But he would never forgive himself if he repeated his mother’s mistake. He wasn’t going to die alone and pining for a lost love, and he wasn’t going to leave without fighting for what he wanted.

  No matter how many good reasons they all came up with.

  The car pulled up at the kerb with a squeal of brakes. “Keep the motor running,” he instructed Frank as he flung open the door and jumped out. “I might need to make a quick getaway if this doesn’t pan out.”

  He took the stairs two at a time, which was difficult because they’d obviously been built in a day and age when people had shorter strides. The cathedral doors, their bronze carvings blurred by verdigris, stood open. He passed between them at a run, skidding across the flagstones of the ante-chamber. The wide-eyed usher jumped out of the way as he hurried past and into the hushed nave. A few heads turned, but most remained focused on the scene at the front of the church, where Tessa and Stefan faced each other hand in hand.

  Oh God, was he too late?

  His heart contracted. She was so beautiful. A vision in ivory satin overlaid with lace, fresh white buds pinned in her intricately braided hair, her peaches-and-cream complexion illuminated by the ray of coloured sunl
ight falling through the high windows.

  What the hell was he doing? Was he really this selfish?

  Yes, he was.

  And this wasn’t only about him. This was about what was right for all of them.

  “Tessa!” He shouted her name down the nave. The collective gasp of the assembled guests blew through the cathedral like an icy wind as several hundred heads turned to look at him. Only one he cared about.

  Slowly Tessa turned and her gaze met his. Even across the expanse of the nave, he saw the light jump in her eyes and he knew he’d done the right thing. Even if he was too late, that light in her eyes gave him back his hope.

  He walked down the aisle towards her and the closer he got, the more light and colour there seemed to be in the soaring cathedral. The crowd hushed, the air grew electric with tension, but Christian didn’t care.

  Tessa stood completely still, her hands still in Stefan’s, her face a mask, but as he drew close he could see the pulse hammering in her throat.

  He stopped a few feet away. “I love you, Tess.”

  His voice reverberated into the ringing silence. A few women in the audience gasped. Someone tittered. Cameras clicked. To his right, someone rose from a pew.

  “You came here to tell me that now?” Her voice was low and breathy, but it carried.

  “No, I’m here because I’m a selfish bastard and I can’t let the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with marry someone she doesn’t love.” He glanced at the groom. “Sorry, pal.”

  Stefan shook his head. “You’re too late to stop this wedding.”

  Christian’s heart hammered so hard he struggled to draw breath. But he still wasn’t ready to give up. “I’m not a knight in shining armour and I never will be. I’m probably never going to change the world, but I’m asking you to take a chance on me.”

  Tessa still said nothing.

  A man came to stand at his right. An imposing man with greying hair who looked as though he was used to giving orders and being obeyed. Not yet evicting him, though Christian was sure his time had run out.

  But he stood his ground. “I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen. I’m not going to disappear. And I’m not going to stop fighting for you.”