Conveniently Wed to the Prince

by Nina Milne

  She resumed walking, and as they emerged from the shade of the grove he could see an ancient stone chapel in the near distance.

  Relief touched Holly’s face as she pointed to the building. ‘Now would be as good a time as any to show you the chapel. Then we can decide if we want the ceremony to take place there.’

  The topic of her future was clearly closed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AS THEY APPROACHED the chapel Holly realised she had been so caught up in their conversation that she hadn’t given a thought to the fact that this was her first visit to the chapel since her wedding fiasco. Not that she’d actually made it to the chapel then.

  For a second her footsteps faltered. She wondered if perhaps she should have come here alone, to lay the ghosts of her nearly-wedding to rest. Yet somehow Stefan’s presence made her feel better. His sheer solidity, his energy, reinforced the knowledge that it had been better to have the fairy tale shattered before the ceremony rather than after.

  Graham had wanted to marry her for her family position, to have a job for life. Had never loved her. Their whole union would have been fake, built on foundations of quicksand.

  As they approached the chapel an old familiar sensation of peace crept over her. The ancient stone walls...the arched door with its honeysuckle surround... It was a place she had come to countless times when life’s complexities had overwhelmed her—when she’d been small and hurt by her mother’s indifference, an indifference that had bordered on dislike. Somehow the pews had given her comfort, and she’d studied the stained-glass windows, marvelling that those red and green and blue sainted figures had looked down and seen centuries, hundreds of people coming in hope of solace.

  ‘This is a beautiful place,’ Stefan said softly as they entered, and she knew from the reverence in his tone that he could sense the history in the very air they breathed.

  As she watched him walk around she felt a strange warmth that he shared her appreciation of this hallowed place.

  ‘It’s always been special to me. My go-to place when life throws a curve ball.’

  ‘I get that, and I would understand if you don’t want our wedding to take place here. If you want to wait for the real thing.’

  ‘I’m not sure if I’ll ever experience “the real thing”. And somehow, because this marriage is for Il Boschetto di Sole, it feels right that we should do it here. This chapel must have seen countless marriages. Many of them will have been made for reasons of duty rather than love. Some of them will have been forced unions of misery and others will have been joyous.’ As she’d thought her marriage would be. ‘I think we should have the ceremony here. If you’re good with that?’

  ‘I’m fine with wherever we do it.’

  ‘No doubt you’d prefer to have the ceremony in a boardroom, with an agenda and the deal written out carefully. I, Stefan Petrelli, agree to marry you subject to the following terms and conditions.’

  Odd that she felt able to tease him, and his smile made her heart give a funny little dip.

  Then his expression took on a serious hue. ‘But really that is what marriage is—the ultimate deal between two people. You enter a pact to look after each other in sickness and in health. It’s a deal. It’s just a non-negotiable one that should last for life. Which is why I wouldn’t enter it—I don’t deal if I can’t keep my side.’

  ‘Does it bother you that we’ll be standing here taking vows we know we won’t keep?’

  ‘No, because we both know that this is a one-year deal. It will be With this ring I thee wed...for a year.’

  The phrase rolled off his tongue and she gave a sudden shiver. The enormity of those vows, even for a year, felt huge even as she reminded herself they weren’t for real. They would be bound together for a year not by love but by legal necessity. Husband and wife. Any attempt to untie the knot before meant Il Boschetto di Sole would be forfeit.

  ‘Is it bothering you?’ he asked.

  ‘A bit. I know we aren’t lying to each other, but we are lying to all the people who will be watching.’

  ‘Hah! Most of the guests won’t give a rat’s ar—bottom. And a large proportion of them will be laying bets on how long we’ll last. Plus, how many people really believe the promises they make when they say their marriage vows? Really believe in the “ever after” bit of the happy-ever-after?’

  ‘I’d like to think most of them do.’

  ‘That is naïve. In today’s age you would have to be an idiot not to consider the very big possibility that you’ll end up divorced. Or that one of you will be unfaithful.’

  Graham hadn’t even waited to make his vow of fidelity before he’d broken it. ‘Then why bother?’

  ‘People figure it’s a way of making some sort of commitment, but they know there’s a get-out clause—they know they aren’t really signing up for life. We’ve just agreed our get-out clause up-front. And I suppose some people get married because they want kids and see marriage as a natural precursor, the right thing to do.’ He gestured around the chapel. ‘For me, this wedding is the only one I will undertake. I know that. But you want the whole deal, and one day you might want to get married for real here.’

  Holly shook her head. ‘Right now it’s hard to picture. I used to believe hook, line and sinker in the whole fairy tale. Now...not so much.’

  ‘Because of the “complicated break-up”?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Holly hesitated. At some point they needed to discuss past relationships. Now seemed as good a time as any. No doubt the press would find out about Graham, and whilst she doubted it would feature in an interview, there might well be some coverage or commentary in the press.

  ‘About that... It really was complicated. We were due to get married. Here, in fact. Then on my wedding day I found out he’d been cheating on me, so I cancelled the wedding.’

  She looked down at the stone floor, traced a pattern with the toe of her foot. She didn’t want to see pity or compassion in his eyes.

  ‘That took guts,’ he said at last. ‘And in my opinion you did the right thing. If you tell me who he was I’ll go and find him, bring him here and make him grovel.’

  That surprised her enough that she looked up and met his gaze. She saw that his expression held nothing but a sympathy that didn’t judge, mixed with an anger that she knew was directed at Graham.

  ‘That’s OK. I don’t need him to grovel—it’s over and done with. And, whilst I don’t doubt your ability to make him grovel, you can’t make him mean it.’

  ‘I’d be happy to try.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be possible. In Graham’s world he didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘How does he figure that?’

  Holly hesitated. She’d never spoken to anyone about Graham’s crass revelations. Yet here and now, with Stefan, she wanted to.

  ‘The whole relationship was a con. Graham worked for my father and he saw a way to further his career. Marrying me would give him a direct line to the Romano wealth and prestige—a job on Il Boschetto di Sole for life, a house, prestige, social standing...yada-yada. He never loved me. I don’t think he even liked me. But he pretended to and I fell for it. Hook, line and proverbial sinker. And the whole time he was sleeping with a “real” woman.’

  ‘So what are you? An alien?’

  All she could do was shrug and he shook his head.

  ‘The man must be blind. Or stupid. Take my word for it. You are a real woman.’ He leant forward, his expression intent and serious. ‘You are beautiful and gorgeous and...hell, you are all woman.’

  Shyness mingled with a desire to move forward and show him that he was a hundred percent right. To kiss him, hold him and...and then what? This was a business arrangement, and most importantly there was no future to this attraction except potential humiliation. This man liked variety.

  But his words had warmed her, acte
d as a counter to Graham’s betrayal, and for that she could say, ‘Thank you. Really. I mean that.’

  ‘No problem. I’m sorry you went through what he put you through.’

  ‘On the plus side, I think I’ve learnt from it. It’s shown me that love isn’t the way forward for me.’

  ‘Why? If you want love you shouldn’t let one loser change your mind.’

  ‘It’s not that. Love made me blind.’ And delusional.

  She should have learned from her parents’ example; love had warped their lives. Her father’s love for Eloise had affected his whole life. As for her mother—she had loved her father with a love that had made her miserable, persevering for years in a doomed marriage in the hope that her husband would love her.

  ‘It made me unable to see what sort of man Graham really is. I think I’d be better off in a marriage without love. Finding a good, decent man—a man who will love Il Boschetto di Sole, who has a love and understanding for the land, who is willing to make his life here. A man who wants children, who will make a good dad.’

  Because that was more important than anything.

  She broke off and narrowed her eyes at his expression, his raised brow. ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘Am I amusing you?’

  ‘No, but I think you’re talking rubbish. This paragon of a man sounds boring, and the whole idea of a union like that would be soulless.’

  ‘Soulless? Just because you need variety and a different woman every month it doesn’t mean a good, decent man has to be boring or a union with him soulless.’

  ‘Where would the spark be?’

  ‘There would have to be an element of attraction, but that isn’t the most important consideration.’

  An element of attraction? Jeez. A sudden memory of their kisses filled her brain—and she banished them.

  ‘Physical attraction doesn’t guarantee a happy, stable relationship.’

  ‘No, but I’m pretty sure it helps with the “happy” part of it.’

  ‘You can have an enjoyable physical relationship without love. That’s what you advocate, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sure, but only on a short-term basis.’

  ‘Probably best if you stick to your relationship criteria and I’ll stick to mine.’ And never the twain shall meet.

  ‘Fair enough. But don’t go looking for this paragon on my watch.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning don’t forget that whilst we are married we will be on show. If you find a suitable man don’t follow up until our divorce goes through.’

  There was a hint of steel in his voice and she narrowed her eyes.

  ‘And does the same go for you? Because that is something we haven’t discussed.’

  ‘Meaning?’ His question echoed hers.

  ‘Well, what is your relationship plan for this year? We’ve agreed this is a marriage of convenience, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t see other women, no matter how discreetly.’

  His expression solidified to ice. ‘I have no intention of seeing other women. I’m not a fool either. It would hardly do my image any good. And even if I were guaranteed anonymity I wouldn’t expose you to that sort of public humiliation. I’m not as unprincipled as you seem to think. Liking variety does not make me a cheat. Whilst we are married I’ll be taking my vows seriously.’

  For some reason the words seemed to ring through her brain, taking the whole situation from the realm of the surreal to cold, hard reality. Vows. They would be standing up and taking vows. In this very chapel. Looked down upon by the figures in the stained-glass windows, watched by a congregation seated on these pews. How on earth had all this happened?

  Pull yourself together.

  ‘Good. I’m glad that’s sorted. Shall we go and meet with my father now?’

  * * *

  Stefan entered the cool confines of the Romano villa and wondered whether his mother had been a regular visitor or whether she and Thomas Romano had tried to fight their feelings for each other. There was so much Thomas could tell him, but he knew he couldn’t ask.

  Holly had made it clear that Eloise had hurt Thomas deeply, and he suspected the ramifications of that hurt had gone deeper than Holly had told him. In addition, Thomas was not a well man. So this visit needed to be polite but impersonal, kept to questions about Il Boschetto di Sole so that a fair split of the land could be devised.

  He watched as Holly went forward to greet her father, saw the worry and the anxiety and the love in her blue eyes as she laid a hand on his arm, questioned him in a low voice.

  Her father smiled, nodded and then moved forward to greet Stefan. ‘Welcome to our home.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He followed Thomas and Holly into a spacious kitchen. Though clean and sunlit it had an air of disuse, no smell of cooking lingered, and the surfaces were almost too pristine.

  Holly glanced around and a small frown creased her forehead. ‘Would you like a drink?’ she offered. ‘Tea?’

  ‘That would be great.’

  He noted that once she put the kettle on she went around and did a quiet check of all the cupboards. Her lips pressed together and her frown deepened.

  Thomas Romano seemed oblivious to his daughter’s actions, and instead focused on Stefan. ‘So what do you think of Il Boschetto di Sole? I hope the staff were all helpful.’

  ‘It is a truly beautiful place.’ A place he knew his mother had loved...a place he would bring her ashes.

  ‘Yes.’ The older man sighed and then smiled. ‘I understand from Holly that you wish to divide the estate between you?’

  Holly approached the table, placed a tray with a teapot, delicate china cups and a plate of biscuits down. ‘That is what Stefan wishes to discuss, Papa, but that need not be done today if you’re tired.’

  ‘I have already given the matter some thought.’ Thomas turned his gaze to Stefan. ‘I have looked at yields, at the economic and practical feasibility of where to draw the lines so that from a monetary viewpoint the split is as fair as can be. But there are other matters to consider. This place is a community, and I care about all the people who work here. Any split has to take their livelihoods into consideration.’

  ‘Of course.’ Stefan nodded. ‘I understand that there are further considerations. I am sure there are places here that are meaningful to the Romanos.’ He turned to Holly. ‘I believe the chapel is important to you and I understand that—perhaps that should be included in your half? In return, I would like the Bianchi villa to be included in mine.’

  The villa where his mother would have stayed.

  Holly glanced at her father and Stefan pushed down a sensation of frustration. He did understand the idea of respect, but Holly was part of this too. Technically this was her decision to make.

  ‘I have already included that in my proposal.’ Thomas sipped his tea. ‘I have also suggested giving you Forester’s Glade. It’s a place that your mother loved—Eloise said she found peace there, even when the decisions she had to make were hard.’

  He grimaced suddenly and Holly leaned forward, her face twisted with worry.

  ‘Papa?’

  ‘I am fine, Holly.’

  ‘No, you aren’t. Have you been taking your medication?’

  ‘Of course. I told you. I am fine.’

  ‘I’ll stay here tonight.’

  ‘No.’ Now Thomas’s voice was authoritative. ‘I do not want ill-founded rumours of my ill-health to circulate and I know how important it is that you and Stefan present as an engaged couple should.’ He reached up and took Holly’s hand. ‘Truly. Holly, I am fine. But if it will make you feel better I will ask Jessica Alderney to come and stay.’

  Holly twisted a tendril of hair around her finger. ‘That would make me feel better. And I’ll check in tomorrow.’

  ‘Good. I will look forward to it. I have missed you; I am
happy that soon you will be back here.’ Thomas nodded to Stefan. ‘Stefan, it was good to meet you. Please feel free to visit Il Boschetto di Sole any time. I look forward to your views on my proposal.’

  ‘I am sure we can all come to an agreement.’ Rising, he held out a hand, shook the older man’s hand and turned to Holly. ‘You ready?’

  ‘Yes.’ Not that she sounded sure, and her blue eyes were worried as they rested on her father.

  ‘Go!’ Thomas smiled as he made shooing motions with his hands. ‘I will talk to you tomorrow.’

  Holly moved over to kiss his cheek and then followed Stefan from the room.

  As they headed to the car she stopped, turned to him. ‘Would you like to go to Forester’s Glade?’

  He halted, touched at the question.

  ‘It may be a while before you can head out here again.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  Or at least he thought he would. The idea sent a skitter of emotion through him.

  As if she sensed it, she slipped her hand into his. The gesture felt somehow right and he left it there, clasped firmly as they wended their way through another terrace of lemon trees, the fragrance as intense as earlier. Once through this they started to climb a set of steep winding stairs cut into the mountain face.

  A glance at her face and he could see that anxiety still lingered in the troubled crease of her forehead. ‘I think you’re worrying too much about your father.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say. I know my father. Before I went to London I made sure he took his medication, ate right and followed the doctor’s orders. Now he’s on his own I am not at all convinced he is doing any of that.’

  ‘He looked OK to me.’

  Holly shook her head. ‘Nowhere near as good as he looked last time I saw him. I checked his cupboards and they are all full.’