A Wish and a Wedding

by Margaret Way

  “She just forced herself on you, did she?” She threw up her head, emerald eyes glittering with misery and contempt, the breath labouring in her chest.

  “Pretty much,” he said tersely, capturing her face between his strong hands. Never in his life had he felt so close to the edge. Not even that night when as a schoolgirl she had come to him. “I love you, you little wildcat.”

  She stopped struggling for a moment. “Oh, God, Haddo, stop it!” Tears welled.

  “Grow up!” he ground out.

  She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t think. He didn’t give her time. Completely routed, she just stood there, her fists clenched against his chest, while he kissed her into broken submission.

  Somehow they were on the chesterfield. She was lying across him…his hand was caressing her naked breast. She tried to suppress the moans but she couldn’t. She was growing weaker and weaker, her body melting against him. The fingers of his one hand brushed along her leg, up her thigh, sliding down over the faint curve of her stomach and under the line of her briefs, a trifle of amethyst satin and lace.

  There were brilliant shards of light behind her tightly closed eyes, then his voice. “Tori….” He sounded like Samson, brought to his knees by a mere woman.

  Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it would never slow down. Her throbbing sex ached. She let him do what he wanted, surrendering herself to this exquisite pain. Oh, the powerful seductiveness of him! She was a beat away from screaming that she loved him. No matter if he was going to ruin her. She loved him. That was her fate.

  Haddo too was getting pushed past his limits, his passion for her volcanic.

  “My God, what am I doing?”

  Abruptly his hand stilled as he tried to hold on to that remaining frail thread of control. His Tori! His little virgin. He knew that for a certainty now. It thrilled him. At the same time it gave him pause. His agonised body was screaming out for release and no one could blame him. He was desperate to take her, to undress her, to hold her naked body astride him. He knew he could do what he so powerfully wished, but the consequences would be swift. This wasn’t what he wanted for her. For either of them. She meant far too much to him. He would die for her.

  He drew back, looking down at her bewitching, willowy body, sprawled in utter abandon across him. Her eyes were closed, high colour was in her cheeks, her long curling ruby hair trailed everywhere. Her beautiful, delicate dress, patterned with roses like an impressionist painting, was bunched at her narrow waist, exposing her long slender legs and lower body. Even that little lick of fire at her delta was exquisite. He was wild for her, yet perversely he was all about protecting her. It would never change.

  Tenderly he adjusted her clothing and drew her up into his arms, cradling her as if she had morphed into the child she had once been. It was his only hope. He half expected his urgent hunger for her to win out, but slowly she opened her eyes. She looked like a young girl, hypnotised by sensation.

  He had to let go of her. He knew he had to.

  Her voice was just a whisper. “You couldn’t lie to me, Haddo, could you?” she implored, in those brief seconds pitifully vulnerable.

  “I’ll never lie to you,” he said. “I thought I’d sworn that.” He reached behind her back to pull up the zipper of her dress.

  “Then you meant what you said?’ She began to rake her fingers through her tumbled hair.

  “What do you think?” He couldn’t risk even the lightest kiss on her mouth. “You’ll never be rid of me, Tori.” Decisively he lifted her up in his arms, then slowly set her on her feet. “Go upstairs now. Go to bed. It’s late, and you’re all eyes. We’ll talk again tomorrow, I promise. First I have to drop Kerri and Marcy off.”

  She stared back at him intently. “You want me?” Despite everything, she couldn’t rid herself of the old grief.

  “God, girl, how can you ask?” His striking features were set in stone.

  It was an extremely fraught moment. “Then why don’t you take me?” She had to hold her fingers against her thrashing heart, lest it leapt out of her body.

  He moved away from her to the drinks cabinet, pouring himself a good shot of bourbon. “Because it isn’t the time or the place,” he said, believing it to be the truth.

  She gave a soft keening laugh. “Do you think that time will ever come?”

  Haddo tossed the bourbon back in a single swallow, then turned to face her, bluer than blue eyes blazing. “Yes, Tori.” He spoke with absolute authority, as if in his mind he had already set the date.

  No one was overly concerned when Haddo didn’t fly back on time. He might be catching up with the many people he knew in Longreach. He was an experienced pilot, who knew the vast semi-desert area like the back of his hand. Besides, life on the station was very hectic. Cattle trains were coming in and out, dam sinkers were on the job, itinerant stockmen were looking for work, there were visiting vets, freight planes landing on the strip. There was hardly any time for sitting around or watching the clock, so the hours flew.

  Mallarinka’s head stockman had come upon a couple of stressed and stranded English tourists who had strayed onto the station. They had been taken up to the house for a shower, a change of clothes and a full meal, and a station mechanic had been detailed to service their four-wheel drive. When they had recovered sufficiently they would be pointed in the right direction.

  “We were having the most marvellous time too,” the wife told them wryly. “But the Outback is so vast! One has to see it to believe it!”

  It was also very unforgiving to the unwary.

  By two p.m. station people found themselves casting frequent glances towards the sky, willing the Beech Baron to appear, with the boss at the controls. Pip had contacted the domestic airline, to be told Kerri and Marcy had boarded their flight, which had already landed safely in Sydney. Another call confirmed the Beech Baron had departed the commercial airstrip at the time designated on Mr Rushford’s flight plan. Was it possible he had put down on another station?

  “Haddo would have told us, surely?” Pip said, trying very hard not to let her sick panic show.

  School was out, and she and Tori were sitting together, close to the phone and radio. Tori was becoming very distressed, biting her lip and twisting her hands. Pip was perfectly aware that, for all the estrangement that had gone on, Haddo was the love of Tori’s life—and as far as she was concerned Tori was the love of Haddo’s life. No one could tell her any differently. But love could also mean a terrible fear of loss.

  There had been many dreadful light aircraft crashes in the Outback over the years. These crashes were very traumatic for all station people, where flying was a way of life. Had Haddo encountered a mechanical problem? Had he made a forced landing? They had found out he hadn’t cancelled his search and rescue time in accordance with his detailed flight plan which accurately profiled his flight path, but he couldn’t be reached by radio. Maybe the radio had packed in? It didn’t seem likely, when the faithful Beech Baron was regularly serviced, though radio problems weren’t all that unusual. It was too early to call a full-scale air search, though their overseer had come up to the homestead to tell them that in another hour or so he might take the chopper up.

  “I’ll come with you, Archie!” Tori leapt to her feet. She couldn’t sit around doing nothing, with fear rioting through her mind. Though she was making a valiant effort to keep her emotions under control, she knew she was becoming distraught. And why not? What would life be without Haddo? Suffering was made to be borne, but she didn’t think she could cope. She hadn’t even told him how much she loved him. Instead she had wallowed for four long years in silly, misplaced pride. Haddo always did the right thing. It was she who didn’t.

  But Archie refused to take her and had scarcely left when a radio message came in from Sovereign Downs. Haddo was on his way home. His radio was out.

  “I hope none of you has been worrying,” Jack Jensen from Sovereign said, using the usual bush logic that proble
ms with aircraft and choppers weren’t unusual, so folk would understand. “Haddo kindly dropped off a spare part I urgently needed. His radio was playing up, so he asked me to give you a call. Have to confess it took a while. We had a bit of an emergency. You should see him shortly, I’d say.”

  Tori raced out onto the verandah, dragging in a lungful of warm, bush-scented air. A great wedge-tailed eagle sailed overhead. A good omen. Like lightning the news travelled all over the home compound. All was well! The boss was on his way in!

  Stockmen way out in the bush, unaware of the home drama, casually noted the Beech Baron flying over.

  “I can honestly say I haven’t felt so panicky in all my life,” Pip finally admitted. “We won’t tell him, will we?” She held Tori’s eyes. “It would only worry him. Besides, we women of the west are supposed to be stoic.”

  Haddo landed to a royal welcome. As he taxied into the hangar he could see Tori standing beside one of the station Jeeps. She was waving both her arms in the air. It was a habit she had picked up, starting years back. He thought there was a certain measure of desperation mixed in with the enthusiasm of the wave. He hoped he hadn’t worried her with his delayed arrival. Jack Jensen’s wife, Meryl, had insisted he stay for lunch. He had wanted to keep going, but found it difficult to refuse. Of course they’d all got talking. Both Jensens were missing their young son, their only child, away at boarding school for the first time.

  Tori ran at him, her whole being radiant. “Haddo!”

  He heard it for what it was. A great cry of love and relief. He caught her up, swinging her off her feet and holding her there above him. “Poor baby—you’ve been worrying.”

  “A little,” she said, contradicting that by dropping frantic kisses all over his face. Then she stopped, looking down at him with most beatific smile. “I love you. Love you. Love you.”

  “I know.” He gave a triumphant laugh, lowering her gently to the tarmac. He held her at the waist, staring down into eyes glittering like emerald lakes.

  “There couldn’t be anyone else in the world for me but you, Haddo,” she said, with deep emotion.

  “I know that too.” His voice exquisitely tender, he bent to kiss her. “I know because that’s exactly the way I feel about you.”

  “Oh, God—oh, thank you! Then why don’t you marry me?” she challenged. “I don’t want to end up an old lady, knowing you always loved me but never got around to marrying me.”

  He laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leading her to the Jeep. “What about when you turn twenty-one, in a few months’ time?” he suggested. “I couldn’t bear to wait any longer than that. Besides, we’ll need all of that time to do the planning. There are an awful lot of people we’ll have to ask. And most importantly there’s your dress.”

  “My dress?” She burst out laughing as joy poured over her.

  “Is a man crazy to want to hold a picture of his beautiful bride in her wedding dress for the rest of his life?” His blue eyes were smiling, but there was seriousness in his expression.

  “Why, not crazy at all,” she said, unbearably moved. “I think I can promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  “I like that.” He hugged her to him, before opening the Jeep door. “Let’s head home. Pip will be the first to know—though I don’t think she’ll be at all surprised.”

  Pip was out on the verandah waiting for them as they swept up the drive. She watched them walking towards her, their arms locked around one another. Two young people she loved dearly. Their body language confirmed everything she needed to know.

  An enormous lightness of spirit seized her. Isn’t love grand! Her mind filled with her own poignant memories. Nothing in this world, nothing at all, could match it.

  MELISSA JAMES

  Too Ordinary for the Duke?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Summer Palace, Orakidis City, Hellenia

  The Wedding of Her Royal Highness Princess Giulia to His Grace Tobias, Grand Duke of Malascos

  THIS day—this past year, in fact—was enough to make a girl believe in fairy tales. Was she, Mari Mitsialos, a bridesmaid at a royal wedding? Was she really cousin to a king and a princess royal?

  Life took weird turns sometimes…but what a good weird this was! Both her cousins, living in the backblocks of Sydney a year ago, were ecstatically married to the people of their dreams—but Charlie was a king, and Lia was a princess royal!

  What did that make her? Kind of a halfway to royalty, halfway past nowhere person—and she couldn’t decide which was better.

  Mari smiled when Toby, or the new Grand Duke as he was known in the family, dipped Lia in the Viennese Waltz they’d chosen for their wedding dance. The devoted love she’d always suspected Toby felt for Lia fairly blazed from those summer-blue eyes. And as for Lia, she could barely leave her husband’s side long enough to “do the pretty-polite”, as Charlie called it, with all the nobles and royalty of Europe who attended her wedding.

  It was still so strange to even be here, let alone be the cousin and bridesmaid of a princess royal—but even her dreamer’s heart couldn’t fool her. Mari had been born on the ordinary side of the family—the Greek side. Aunty Katina had been a girl from the mountains outside Athens who had boarded a boat for Australia forty years ago, and met Uncle Arthur at a Greek party in Marrickville, Sydney.

  She and Uncle Arthur had died in a car crash, never knowing their titles, never knowing Uncle Arthur had, through the destruction of the royal Marandis line of Hellenia, become the heir to a kingdom. Charlie and Lia hadn’t known their true identities until a year ago. Great-Uncle Kyri and Great-Aunt Giulia had never told a soul about their big secret: Uncle Kyri had been a Grand Duke, who’d disappeared from royal life to marry the royal nanny.

  But oh, how Great-Uncle Kyri had organised his grandchildren’s lives—even from beyond the grave! He’d taught them the language, customs and culture of Hellenia—even the royal dances—and instilled in them a deep sense of duty, so that when they’d found out their true identities and Hellenia’s need, they’d barely hesitated before making the hard decision to stay for ever and rebuild the shattered nation.

  In his will, Great-Uncle Kyri had left Toby, Charlie’s best friend and Great-Uncle Kyri’s adopted son, a duchy and two hundred and fifty million euros—and, more importantly, he had given Lia the man she loved, and Toby the bride of his heart.

  Mari sighed in her brother Stavros’s arms as they danced beside the bride and groom. If she’d been born on the other side of the family, on Uncle Arthur’s side, what would she be? To be so close to a life most people could only dream of entering, yet locked behind the permanent barrier of her birth, felt—weird.

  Weird described it to a T…but even she, the family dreamer, had no idea if she’d want to be royal. She’d seen both sides of life here, through the eyes of the media and adoring fans who couldn’t buy enough magazines about the new royals, and she honestly didn’t know if she could take a life filled with intrusions—

  “I’d like to dance with your sister, if I may.”

  A beautifully cultured yet imperious voice broke into Mari’s reverie, and she realised the bridal waltz was done; people were changing partners.

  She didn’t need to look around to know who was speaking. She knew the voice of His Royal Highness Prince Mikhail of the small Euro-Asian border kingdom of Chalnikan too well. She’d met him five months before, when he had been Charlie’s groomsman, and she’d been hearing his voice regularly since she’d returned to Hellenia to become Lia’s bridesmaid. She’d had his gifts, his notes, heard his calls—and all the messages were variations on the same theme. Come and live with me and be my lover.

  How romantic it all sounded…a prince focussing his attentions on her, an ordinary girl…and maybe she’d find it romantic if only he’d meant come and be my bride—not come to my bed for as long as I find you convenient.

  Question: how could most young girls’ fantasy—having the undivided romantic attentions of a
handsome young prince—turn into a nightmare?

  Answer: if the said prince was an unlikeable, arrogant snob who’d tried to charm Jazmine and Lia, both princesses royal at the time, into marriage. But with Mari he’d only wanted a little fun during his seven days off the parental leash—in her bed.

  And how could Stavros, the most protective of brothers, who’d chased away more men than she could count since she’d turned fourteen, now step back with that look of silent awe?

  “What am I supposed to say? He’s a prince, Mari,” Stavros had protested when she’d asked him to protect her.

  As she allowed His Spoiled Highness to take her in his arms, her parents beamed. In their eyes, if Charlie could marry a princess and Lia could become one, there was no reason a prince of the blood couldn’t fall in love with Mari.

  “Weren’t you crowned Princess of the Festival four times running?” her dad had demanded the first time she’d tried to tell her parents that Mikhail’s intentions could never be honourable to her, a commoner.

  “Princess of a Greek festival in Marrickville isn’t quite the title a real prince looks for in a wife, Dad,” Mari had sighed. “And the voting was rigged. Uncle Harry was the president, and Petros’s dad was on the board, too.”

  The entire family knew Stavros’s best friend Petros still held a torch for Mari. He’d proposed every year at the Festival since Mari’s first win. Her parents had encouraged her to think about it.

  At least until Mikhail came along. Even her mother seemed to have waved aside the lifelong belief that marrying a non-Greek was tantamount to heresy the moment she’d looked into Mikhail’s melting caramel eyes—or, more strictly, the moment she’d learned his title.