Shaking her head, as if to rid herself of pointless speculation, she reached for the telephone and dialled an internal line. After several rings she remembered that Miranda and her parents would probably have already left for their promised tour of Ferara.
So, what did a ‘soon to be’ princess do in her spare time? Ring the office, she told herself, trying another number.
‘Force of habit,’ she explained to the uncharacteristically bewildered Clerk of Chambers who normally organised her working life with unfailing efficiency. ‘Yes, OK, Billy. See you at the wedding then.’
She tried to hang on to the familiar voice in her mind, but when she replaced the receiver the room seemed to have grown larger and even emptier than before she placed the call.
Shower, dress, and draw up a plan, she decided, trying to ignore the stab of tears behind her eyes as she headed purposefully towards the lavish marble bathroom. She would have to pull herself together and find a meaningful role for herself if the next couple of years weren’t going to be the longest of her life.
She felt better when she came out of the bathroom, hair partly dried and hanging wild about her shoulders, and with a fluffy white towel secured loosely round her hips. She had waltzed herself halfway across the ballroom-sized bedroom, humming her own version of Strauss, before she realised she was not alone. As her hands flew to tug up the towel and cover her breasts she realised there wasn’t enough material to cover everything—
‘Calm down. I’ll turn my back,’ Alessandro murmured reassuringly.
It wasn’t easy to stay calm when your heart was spinning in your chest!
‘Who let you in?’ she said, backing up towards the door of her dressing room.
‘I apologise for arriving unannounced.’
He could try a little harder to sound contrite, Emily thought, conscious that her nipples had turned into bullets. ‘I thought you had business to conclude in London.’
So did I, Alessandro mused wryly. But thanks to you, Emily, I couldn’t stay away. ‘Can I help you with that?’ he offered, moving towards her as she debated whether to simply brazen it out and turn to open the dressing room door, or try to manoeuvre the handle with her elbow whilst clinging on to the towel and preserving what little remained of her dignity.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said, choosing the latter option.
‘Oh, come now, Emily,’ Alessandro murmured, moving closer. ‘I have seen a woman’s body before…’
That was all the encouragement she needed to try and bludgeon the handle into submission with an increasingly tender arm.
‘It’s not as if anything’s going to happen,’ he added sardonically, ‘remember that “no sex” clause?’
‘Yes, thank you, I do remember,’ Emily said, conscious that every tiny hair on her body was standing to attention.
‘See? I’m not even looking,’ he insisted, leaning across her to open the door. ‘Your modesty is utterly preserved, signorina.’
Launching herself into the dressing room, Emily slammed the door shut and leaned heavily against it as she struggled to catch her breath.
‘Don’t be long,’ Alessandro warned from the other side. ‘I’ve got something to show you…something I think you might like.’
Emily’s gaze tacked frantically around the room as she tried to decide what to do next. Dropping the towel, she sprinted naked to examine her daunting collection of new clothes.
Everything was cloaked in protective covers and there were photographs of each outfit on labels attached to the hangers; labels that came complete with directions as to where matching accessories might be found. But her investigations were hampered by too much choice. And just what was the appropriate outfit for after you’d stepped out of the shower only to be discovered naked by possibly the most delicious male on the planet? A male, furthermore, with whom you could anticipate no hanky-panky whatsoever!
Modest enough to prove you weren’t the least bit interested in him, she decided, and casual enough to put them both at their ease.
Decision made, Emily dived into the bottom of the wardrobe and tugged out her trusty jeans and tee shirt.
‘I hope you slept well?’
‘Very well, thank you,’ she replied politely, giving Alessandro a wide berth on her way back across the room. ‘I had no idea you had arrived home.’ Reaching the massive fireplace, she intended to rest one trembling arm on the mantelpiece, but missed when she found she couldn’t reach. Acting nonchalant, she leaned against the wall instead, and levelled a bogus confident stare on Alessandro’s face.
‘Come over here,’ he said softly, indicating the cushion next to his own on the cream damask sofa.
As one corner of his mouth tugged up in a smile Emily’s battered confidence took a further plunge into the depths, while her heart seemed capable of yet more crazy antics. ‘Why?’ she said suspiciously.
‘Because there’s something that I’d like you to see,’ he said patiently.
Emily took care to measure each step, so as not to appear too keen.
‘Sit down,’ he invited, standing briefly until she was comfortably settled on the sofa.
Maintaining space between them, Emily folded her hands out of harm’s way in her lap and waited.
Reaching down to the floor at his feet, Alessandro brought up an ancient brown leather casket and set it down on the table in front of her. Releasing the brass catches, he lifted the lid. ‘For you,’ he said, tipping it up so that she could easily see the contents.
Emily gasped, all play-acting forgotten as she peered into the midnight-blue interior, where a quantity of diamonds flashed fire as the early-morning sunlight danced across their facets.
Reaching into the casket, Alessandro brought out a diamond tiara, together with earrings and a matching bracelet and necklace. ‘You will wear these with your wedding dress,’ he said, laying them out on the table in front of her.
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit much?’
‘To my knowledge, no Princess of Ferara has complained before,’ he said, sweeping up one ebony brow in an elegant show of surprise.
‘Well, I had planned a more restrained look—’
‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ Alessandro cut in firmly. ‘The people of Ferara expect—’
‘The people of Ferara,’ Emily countered, ‘are receiving short shrift from us both. And I can’t…I won’t appear any more of a hypocrite than I already am. They deserve better—’
‘You will honour this contract,’ Alessandro returned sharply, ‘and leave the people of Ferara to me. They are my concern—’
‘Shortly to be mine,’ Emily argued stubbornly. ‘If only for the duration of our agreement. While this contract runs its course,’ she continued, ‘I intend to fulfil my duties to this county, and its people, in full. And I warn you, Alessandro, I will not be side-tracked from my intended course of action by you.’
‘Then you will do as I ask and wear this jewellery,’ he insisted, clearly exasperated. ‘It’s for one day only. That is all I ask.’
Emily mashed her lips together as she thought about it. The royal tiara to hold her veil in place and cement Alessandro’s position as ruler of Ferara? She would agree to that. ‘I would love to wear the tiara, but this ring is what your people care about,’ she said, touching the ruby and pearl band. ‘All the other jewellery is very impressive, but, just as you said, no jewel, however valuable, can boast the history of this one modest piece. Why overshadow it? I think your people would appreciate seeing simplicity in their Princess. I’ve no wish to flaunt your wealth.’
There was a long pause during which Emily couldn’t fathom what was going on in Alessandro’s mind. His face remained impassive, but behind his eyes myriad changes in the molten gold irises marked the course of his thoughts. Even sitting with his back to the sun, with his face half in shadow, the light in his eyes was remarkable, Emily mused, leaving tension behind as she slipped deeper into reverie.
‘You’re an excepti
onal woman, Signorina Weston—’
She started guiltily out of her daydream as Alessandro began putting the fabulous jewels back inside their velvet nest. She could hardly believe what he was saying…doing. She had won her first battle—and so easily—‘You agree?’ she said, holding her breath.
‘I agree,’ Alessandro said, almost as if he surprised himself. ‘Everything will be locked up for safekeeping. The tiara will be returned to you on the day of our wedding.’
‘Thank you,’ she said with relief, getting to her feet as Alessandro stood up to go. ‘Will I see you again before then?’ It was a question she longed to know the answer to…a question she knew she had no right to ask him.
‘I imagined you would be too busy with your preparations,’ Alessandro said, looking at her intently. ‘I have meetings arranged right up to the morning of the ceremony…I thought I’d give you time to sort through all those clothes,’ he added, clearly of the opinion that any woman should be thrilled by such a prospect.
But Emily wasn’t impressed. As far as she was concerned, the over-abundance of outfits in her walk-in wardrobe represented nothing more than a selection of costumes for the short-running drama production in which she was about to appear.
‘I’d like to do something worthwhile…learn something about Ferara,’ she insisted. ‘The clothes can wait.’
For a moment Alessandro seemed taken aback. ‘Well, good,’ he said. ‘I’ll find someone to have a chat with you—’
As her stomach clenched with disappointment, Emily’s lips tightened. ‘Don’t bother,’ she said tensely. ‘I’ll find someone myself.’
After eating breakfast alone in her suite, Emily knew it was time to make good her boast to find someone who would tell her a little about Ferara. Catching sight of an elderly gardener through one of her many windows, she hurried out of the room.
He was as gnarled as an oak tree and, right now, as bent as one of its branches as he leaned over the plants he was caring for. Emily remained discreetly half hidden as she stared at him, wondering if she had made the right choice.
She needn’t have worried about disturbing him. He was oblivious to everything around him apart from the roses he was tending.
Emily smiled as she watched him. The old man’s love for his plants was revealed in his every move. He had probably worked in the palace gardens most of his long life. Ferara was that sort of place. Who better to tell her everything she wanted to know? He might not speak too much English, but her Italian was…not too bad, she consoled herself. They should be able to have a conversation of sorts—and anything was preferable to returning to the silence that dominated her ornate, but ultimately sterile rooms.
‘Buon giorno!’ she began hopefully, walking towards the solitary figure. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
‘Not at all, signorina. I’m delighted to have the company.’
‘You speak English,’ she said, unable to keep the excitement from her voice.
‘I do,’ the elderly man replied, leaning heavily on the handle of his fork. ‘What can I do for you, signorina?’
‘Don’t you feel the sun?’ Emily said, shading her eyes with her hand. ‘It’s terribly hot out here.’
‘Yes, I feel the sun,’ he agreed. ‘I love to feel the sun. I love to be outside…with my roses,’ he elaborated, gesturing around him with one nobly hand whilst star-bright amber eyes continued to reflect on Emily’s face. ‘Do you like flowers?’
‘I love them,’ she replied.
‘Roses?’
‘Especially roses,’ Emily sighed, as she traced a petal wistfully. ‘They remind me of my parents’ garden in England.’
‘Do you feel homesick already?’ he asked perceptively.
It was as if some bond formed between them in that moment. And as they smiled at each other Emily felt herself relax. ‘I’m surprised they flourish here in this heat so late in the summer,’ she said, reining back the emotion that suddenly threatened to spoil these first moments with a potential new friend and possible ally.
‘My own system of filtered sunlight and judicious watering,’ the old man told her proudly. ‘Like me, these roses love the sun. And, like me, in this hot climate their exposure to it must be rationed. Otherwise we’d both shrivel up.’
He chuckled, and his eyes sparkled with laughter, but Emily could see the concern behind them, and regretted that she was the cause.
‘What’s this one called?’ she asked, determined to set everything back on an even keel as she pointed to an orangered, rosette-shaped bloom.
‘A good choice,’ he commented thoughtfully, stabbing his fork into the ground to come and join her. ‘This rose is named after Shakespeare’s contemporary, the great English playwright Christopher Marlowe. Here,’ he invited, selecting a bloom to show her and holding it up loosely between his fingers, ‘inhale deeply, signorina. You should be able to detect a scent of tea and lemon. Lemon tea,’ he declared, chuckling again, pleased with his joke.
‘Mmm. It is a distinctive scent,’ Emily agreed after a moment. ‘But what is the connection between Christopher Marlowe and roses?’
‘You don’t know?’ he demanded.
It seemed as if she was going to have to learn something about her own culture before starting on his, Emily realised. ‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ she said ruefully.
‘Christopher Marlowe pressed a rose inside the pages of a book he gave to a friend after an argument…to express his regret over their disagreement.’
‘And did his friend forgive him?’
‘Who could resist?’ the old gentleman retorted, his eyes widening as he surveyed the array of beautiful blooms nodding in the breeze in front of them.
Before Emily could stop him, he cut one for her.
‘Here, signorina, take this. Press it between the pages of a book…and always remember that if a rose is shown love and care it will flourish and bloom, wherever it is planted.’
Taking the flower from his hand, Emily smiled. ‘Do you work here every day?’
‘I intend to,’ he told her, eyes shining with anticipation. ‘I intend to make this rose garden the most talked about in all of Ferara…all of Europe!’
They talked for some while, and then she left him to his work.
‘I’m sure you will,’ Emily agreed. ‘It’s so very beautiful already.’
‘Would it bother you if I came here to talk to you again?’
‘Bother me?’ he exclaimed with surprise. ‘On the contrary signorina. I should love it.’
‘In that case,’ Emily said happily, ‘see you tomorrow.’
The old man bowed as she started to move away. ‘Until tomorrow, signorina. I shall look forward to it.’
After her encounter with the elderly gardener Emily felt more confident that she had something to contribute to palace life. A plan was taking shape in her mind: a scheme to improve the living conditions of all Alessandro’s employees—though she had to admit to a moment’s concern when her private secretary said she knew of no one matching the old man’s description in royal service.
Turning it over in her mind, Emily returned to her desk to catch up on some correspondence. On the top there was a large red journal she didn’t recognise, and, opening it at the flyleaf, she saw it was from Alessandro. He had written simply, ‘For Emily from Alessandro—a record of your thoughts’. And then, at the bottom of the page, he had added the date of their forthcoming marriage.
‘Do you like it?’
She nearly jumped out of her skin. ‘I love it,’ she said bluntly, running the fingers of one hand appreciatively down the length of its spine.
‘Your secretary showed me in,’ he explained. ‘I hope you don’t mind?’
‘Not at all.’ The now familiar surge in her pulse-rate had reached new and unprecedented levels, Emily discovered as she continued to stare at Alessandro standing on the balcony outside her room. Surely there would come a point where she’d got used to seeing him? But how could anyone look that
good in a pair of jeans and a simple dark linen shirt? She surmised he was off-duty, and wondered what he planned to do with his free time. ‘Is this a gift for me?’ she said, glancing down at the journal.
He answered with a grin and a shrug.
‘Five years of entries?’ she teased lightly. ‘I presume you couldn’t get any less?’
His silence allowed her to draw her own conclusions. ‘Well, I’ve never had anything like it before.’ she admitted frankly, ‘so, thank you.’
‘May I come in?’ he said, leaning on the doorframe.
‘Of course.’ She wondered if her heart would ever steady again. ‘I was only going to write some letters.’
‘But I thought you wanted to have a look around Ferara?’
‘I do.’ She tried not to read anything into the remark, but her pulse rate rebelled again. ‘I’m very keen to learn more. Actually, I’ve already made a friend of one of the gardeners.’
‘Did he tell you much about our country?’
‘He was a very interesting old gentleman, as it happens. And, Alessandro?’
‘Yes?’
Emily waited, noticing how his eyes reflected his thoughts—there was a something in his expression now that suggested this might be a good time to air her idea. ‘I know you’ve been very busy, and that small things aren’t always apparent, but…’
‘Get on with it,’ he encouraged with a gesture.
‘After talking to the gardener I got the impression that his apartment could do with some renovation—just some little touches that would make his life easier.’
‘And you’d like to take charge of these?’
‘Yes. I think it would be worthwhile.’
‘I’m sure it would,’ Alessandro agreed. ‘And as far as learning more about Ferara is concerned—well, I’ve taken the afternoon off, so I could show you around, if you like.’
A shiver of excitement raced down Emily’s spine as she let him wait for her answer.
Married By Christmas Bundle: Anthology Page 49