The Bridesmaid's Royal Bodyguard

by Liz Fielding

  She suddenly realized exactly what he was telling her. He wanted more than to head up a small charity. “You’re moving on.”

  “Not far. I’ll still have an office in the palace although I don’t envisage spending much time there.”

  “So it wouldn’t matter if I was there?” Because the likelihood of their paths crossing was minimal?

  “It matters,” he said, fiercely, “because we’ll be sharing those two offices. In the palace. At Hasebury Hall.”

  “I don’t ...”

  “I told you that Jonas and Hope asked me if I’d head up Hope for Children. I’ve been in the field, seen the need but I had commitments ... The call from Prince Carlo was to let me know that Princess Anna is happy with Captain Lukas and he’s agreed to release me with immediate effect.”

  “What?” There were tears in her eyes but she was laughing, too. “Did Jonas tell you they were asking me?”

  “They said they wanted you but they knew we were involved, that it might be awkward. They said it was my call.”

  “And you said yes?”

  “They want people they know, people they trust.”

  That word again ...

  “Yes.”

  “That was before you thought I’d betrayed everyone. Do you still want me?”

  “Alice ...” He smiled as he said her name, took her hand. “There comes a moment in life when going solo loses its appeal. For me that moment arrived when I met you. I’m training with the mountain rescue team; I’m building bridges with my family. I will take on the role of director of Hope for Children because it’s important to me, but with you at my side it will be a joy. Will you join me?”

  Her answer was silent but eloquent as they sealed their partnership with a kiss that was only disturbed by a shout from the field behind them.

  Fredrik looked up. “The game appears to be hotting up. If I’m going to be spending time here I’d better find out what it’s all about.”

  “Forget the cricket,” she said, as he put his arm around her and they walked back to the green. “They’ll be serving tea soon and that’s the best part.”

  Monday passed in a blur as the church was cleaned and polished from apse to font, the volunteers taking no nonsense from the San Michele TV crew who had arrived with a list of demands as long as her arm.

  With Fredrik’s help, she confined them to the organ loft and a perch erected opposite but just out of sight of the great west door inside the church, and one cherry picker, tucked away behind the trees.

  Marquees were being erected in the Hall grounds – which was nothing to do with her – and on the Green, which was. A wooden dance floor was finally levelled and, by evening, everything was set up and she fell into bed exhausted.

  On Tuesday it rained.

  The royal party, hurrying into church under vast umbrellas for the rehearsal, were heard muttering about English weather. Obviously, the sun was shining its heart out in San Michele.

  Fredrik was there taking care of the royals, and stepped in to take the pictures she needed since she would be in some of them. He stole a brief kiss in the vestry when he handed over her camera before they both had to be somewhere else.

  Jack Masterson hadn’t turned up for some reason and Nico was standing in for him. Celina left in the middle of the rehearsal but apart from that everything went as it should.

  The rain had stopped by six, leaving everything sparkling clean in the evening sunshine and everyone’s mood had lifted by the time they sat down for the rehearsal dinner.

  The table layout had Fredrik on the far side of the table and at the other end. When she went to sit down, however, his name card was beside hers.

  “You switched!” she whispered.

  “It was a security issue.” She must have looked sceptical because he said, “I felt insecure with you sitting next to Nico.”

  She laughed. “Idiot.”

  “So you keep saying and yet here I am, next to you. I must be doing something right.”

  It felt very right sitting next to him, his shoulder touching hers and, while they engaged with everyone around them, once in a while their hands touched, fingers briefly entwined.

  Afterwards, he saw her home, kissed her goodnight at her front door like they did in old movies – although her dad didn’t appear to chase him away.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “It’s going to be crazy.”

  “It’ll be crazy until the reception but once the formalities are over I’m done, so save the first dance for me.”

  “Just the first dance?”

  “Does there have to be more than one? I’ve booked a hotel room.”

  “I’ll be asleep before you’ve brushed your teeth.”

  “But when you wake up I’ll be there. That’s what love is all about. Not sex. It’s being there.”

  And right there, on the doorstep, Ally melted.

  Ally’s morning was all about the Wedding on the Green. She took photographs of everything and everyone for a souvenir album on the village website.

  Villagers brought flowers to decorate the marquee. Great white feathery bunches of cow parsley, tall pink spires of rose bay willow herb from the hedgerows. Foxgloves, sunflowers, love in a mist, roses, clove-scented dianthus from their gardens.

  Her mother’s WI team were there, setting them up in buckets, giving everything a wonderful country fair feel.

  The tables were laid with gorgeous cupcake posies waiting to be uncovered at the centre of every table.

  Jennifer stiffened as she stopped to take a snapshot of her unpacking glasses as she and Pete set up the bar.

  “Relax, Jennifer. It’s going to be a wonderful day. Enjoy it.”

  “I ... Yes ... Thank you,” she said and Pete Harmon, who’d donated enough Prosecco to float a battleship, threw her a grateful smile.

  Her father had mustered the darts team to deliver the specially made gold wristbands – inscribed with “Hope and Jonas – Combe St Philip” and the date – to everyone who was coming to the party. There were red ones for those who’d been lucky in the draw for the limited space in the churchyard for a close-up view of the arrival of the royal party and the bride.

  Lunch was a snatched bite out of a sandwich and then she joined Flora and Hope at Hasebury Hall for the whole hair, make-up and getting dressed party.

  There was a photographer to take official pictures once they were ready, but they all took pictures of each other, laughing, thoughtful, aware that nothing was ever going to be quite the same again.

  She captured one of Hope, ready for church in a stunningly simple white lace dress that draped in a deep arc of soft folds from her shoulders. “All anyone sees of the bride in church is her back,” Hope said. “Better give them something interesting to look at.”

  There was no train to drag on the path as she walked to church, no veil for the breeze to tease, just the sparkle of diamonds in her hair.

  She was looking out of her bedroom window and the sun, slanting in sideways, was catching her hair so that the red glowed like fire, throwing her face into shadows. She looked serene. Every inch the princess she hadn’t wanted to become. It was just a moment and then, as Max knocked and put his head around the door, she turned and smiled. And Ally caught that image, too.

  “Is it time?”

  In answer the church bells started to ring a joyful peal and Max said, “They’re playing your tune.”

  She and Flora gathered up the little bridesmaids and pages who’d been in another room where Holly’s mother and the royal children’s nanny had been getting them ready, and ushered them down the drive and along the path, lined by villagers, to the church.

  The young bridesmaids, Max’s daughter and one of the little princesses, were wearing pale gold voile dresses with a dark red sash and dark red rosebuds in their hair, the San Michele colours, and they were greeted by a single “Ahhh ...”

  The boys, remarkably well-behaved but the
n they were royal princes and presumably knew what was expected of them, were in dark red breeches and gold and red waistcoats.

  She and Flora were wearing the same dark red. Simple strapless princess-line dresses that would be perfect for dancing later that evening but for the church they were wearing elegant little matching boleros with elbow-length sleeves and stand-up collars to cover their shoulders.

  Everyone had their cameras and phones out taking snaps and videos and, for a moment, Ally managed to forget that there was a TV cameraman, perched fifty feet up in a cherry picker, sending the images direct to San Michele.

  As they entered the churchyard she caught sight of Fredrik. He was talking into a two-way radio but paused for a moment, absolutely still as he watched her walk towards him. Then they were around the church in the cool shade of the porch.

  The clapping, in the distance at first and then nearer and nearer, heralded the approach of Hope on Max’s arm. The look that passed between Max and Flora as they arrived left her struggling with a sudden lump in her throat and she bent to shake out Hope’s hem while Flora lined up the children behind her.

  “Everyone ready?” the verger asked as the incidental music that Laura Chase had been playing stopped and the church became quiet.

  Max glanced around, smiled at the children. “All ready,” he said.

  The verger gave a signal, there was a rustle as the congregation stood and the first sweet notes of ‘Dance of the Blessed Spirits’ filled the church. Max glanced at his sister, she nodded and then, to a sigh that filled the church, Hope walked down the aisle to her waiting prince.

  The service was moving, special. The Dowager nodded as they took their vows, a lace handkerchief appeared in Princess Anna’s hand while poor Nico, clearly anticipating pressure to man up and follow suit, could hardly bear to look.

  The register was signed and then they were all back out in the sunshine, bells ringing, villagers flinging rose petals, while a woman from the local photographic club used Ally’s camera to capture the moment when Hope and Jonas paused under the lychgate for a traditional kiss.

  Ally retrieved the camera, and climbed into the waiting car to race back to the Hall and get one to the printer. She knew without looking that it was Fredrik behind the wheel and put out a hand to acknowledge him as she flipped through the images looking for just one that would be perfect.

  It was hard to choose from such a joyful collection but by the time they reached the Hall she had it. She turned to Fredrik to show him and realized that he was looking at her with just the same expression that she’d seen on Max’s face when he was looking at Flora.

  “How was it?” he asked.

  “Um ...” She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Simple. Moving. Perfect ...”

  “Just what Hope wanted, then.”

  “Mmmm.”

  And when she didn’t move. “Isn’t there someone waiting for that?”

  “Yes ...” She wanted to stay there. Wanted the rest of the day to be just the two of them and without thinking she leaned forward and kissed him. “First dance ...”

  “Last dance,” he called after her as she ran into the house.

  The reception was perfect. Flora’s fabulous canapés, then the menu she’d created, supervising chefs she’d worked with in London right up until the minute she sat down. The speeches were not too long. Max’s was moving. Jack was funny; Prince Carlo charm itself.

  Fredrik, who’d handed over to Captain Lukas immediately after the service, was sitting at a table with her parents, the vicar and his wife and the chairwoman of the parish council. They all seemed to be having a good time and when he caught her eye, he grinned.

  It seems hours later when they watched Hope and Jonas take their first dance, swinging around the floor as if there was no one else in the room, before Fredrik turned to her. “First dance, Alice ... And the last?”

  “Behave yourself,” she said. “Bridesmaids have to dance with the groomsmen first,” she said, waltzing off with Nico until Fredrik could stand it no longer.

  “Alice ...”

  Nico frowned. “Alice? Why does he call you that?”

  “Because he’s earned the right,” she said, looking not at Nico, but the man she loved, before stepping into his arms.

  They did their duty until Hope announced that she and Jonas were joining the Wedding on the Green.

  They followed, touring the sideshows where Fredrik won her a teddy on the shooting range. They rode on the carousel, ate porchetta and danced to the local band before finally slipping away into the night.

  “How soon can you come to San Michele?” he asked as they headed to the Hall to pick up her overnight bag.

  “I don’t know. I’ve a million things to do tomorrow. I’ve got to update my blog – I should be doing that now instead of sneaking off to spend the night with you. I have to check that all the interviews with Hope and book previews made the papers ...”

  “And if they didn’t what could you do about it?”

  She gave a little shrug, laughed. “Not a thing.”

  “I know there will still be stuff you need to do to wrap things up but what I’m asking is do you have to be here?”

  “Fredrik ...” Ally’s heart was suddenly pounding like the beat of the drums still rocking the village green. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that I’m not a youth, Alice. I’m a man and I’m not interested in a your place or mine relationship. I have an apartment overlooking the harbour in Liburno. I’m in love with you and I want you to be there every night, want to be with you every morning when I wake up.” He reached for her, drew her close. “Say the word and I’ll change that to ‘we’.”

  “We?”

  “We have an apartment overlooking the harbour with the kind of internet access the inhabitants of this village can only dream about. The royal jet will be leaving after lunch tomorrow. Say the word and we could both be on it, starting our journey in style.”

  “What’s the word?”

  “Yes.”

  She laughed, threw her arms around his neck.

  “I want to be with you, Fredrik, with or without your internet access. So yes, yes and yes. Tomorrow after lunch I’ll be packed and ready and go but let’s not waste another moment of tonight talking about it.”

  It was so hot that when she breathed in the air was searing her lungs, but Ally couldn’t be sure whether it was sweat or tears drying on her face.

  Taking photographs of these children who were carers, helping their parents who were victims of landmines, who had terrible burns or were too sick to take care of themselves, seemed like an intrusion, a violation.

  She looked up and saw Fredrik sitting with some of the older children, saw him put his arm around a child who should be at school but instead was looking after his younger siblings. Children that Hope for Children was offering a future.

  She carried on taking photographs, talking to the children, their parents and grandparents until, wrung out, she ground to a halt, unable to carry on. Fredrik joined her, took her hand as if he knew and as she turned in to him, her face in his shoulder, there was no doubt. They were tears.

  “It’s hard,” he said, “but things are already improving in this village. There’s a well now and the kids don’t have to walk miles for filthy water. Hope has given them a clinic with a nurse. There’s a teacher right here in the village. Things have improved and they can only get better.”

  “I know,” she said. “I know.”

  They’d been together for nearly a year. Sometimes Fredrik travelled alone while she stayed in the office, but whenever she could she travelled with him. And if she felt that taking photographs of the suffering seemed intrusive she knew that getting the images out there was what brought attention to the need.

  “Come and sit down.” He led her across to a shade tree in the centre of the village and they sat down with their backs to the trunk.

  “There’ll be ants,” she said.

/>   “No ants, I checked.”

  She glanced at him. “You checked?”

  “Absolutely. This is important. Or did you think I’d forget your birthday?”

  “It’s my birthday?” She’d lost track of the days.

  “I’m afraid there are no shops selling pretty birthday cards, nowhere I could buy you the present I had in mind, so one of the ladies here made me this as a place holder, a promise.”

  He opened his hand and in his palm lay a small circle of tiny, brightly coloured beads.

  “What is it?”

  “Give me your hand and I’ll show you.” She held out her right hand. “No, the other one.” He took her left hand in his and holding the bead circle on the tip of her ring finger said, “There should be diamonds and champagne and there will be, but seeing you here today with these children, I can’t wait another moment. Alice Parker, would you do me the greatest honour in the world? Will you be my wife, my lover, the mother of my children, my partner in everything I do?”

  She tried to swallow but her mouth was dry. “Does that include the mountain rescue bit?” she asked.

  “You’re already part of that. Your safety PR will stop more than a few idiots getting into trouble.”

  “I thought we could raise some funds with one of those calendars with you rescue guys wearing nothing but a bit of rope to cover your embarrassment.”

  “If that’s what it takes for you to say yes.”

  It wasn’t the proposal she’d dreamed about as a girl. There were beads instead of diamonds, luke warm water to toast the future instead of champagne but it was a thousand times better than anything she could ever have imagined and she was grinning from ear to ear.

  “No conditions, Fredrik Jensson. It’s yes. A thousand times yes.”

  He slipped the ring on her finger and she spread her hand to admire it.

  “It’s beautiful, Fredrik. Perfect. Thank you.” She leaned forward to kiss him, very gently on the lips, and when she drew back she saw that they had an audience of children, all giggling.