Winter Wedding for the Prince

by Barbara Wallace

“Turns out he forgot an important piece of information. But,” she said as Mona laughed, making it her time to feel sick to her stomach, “now that he has it, I’m sure he knows what he has to do.”

  * * *

  It was the longest meal of Armando’s life. Bad enough before, when he was listening to Darius attempting to charm Rosa. But once Mona came, he was forced to be charming himself while listening to Darius. All the while wishing he was standing under the mistletoe with Rosa.

  Rosa, who refused to catch his eye.

  Just as well. It had been wrong of him to declare his feelings when he was obligated to Mona. Selfish and wrong. His only defense was that he’d been doing exactly what he’d advised Rosa to do: not think.

  Now, as punishment for his greediness, he could spend the rest of the evening tasting Rosa’s kiss. The sensation of her mouth moving under his overrode his taste buds, turning everything that passed his lips bland and lifeless. By the time dessert arrived, he wanted to toss his napkin on the table and tell everyone he was through.

  He didn’t, of course. One abrupt departure was enough. Besides, between his behavior and Mona’s late arrival, he’d stolen the spotlight enough.

  Well, he had wanted to give people something to gossip about besides Arianna’s pregnancy. Sitting to his left, Mona dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Father was right,” she said. “Your sister and her fiancé are very devoted to one another. No wonder your father is willing to be so...accepting...of the circumstances.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I only meant that Corinthia has a reputation for being almost as traditional and conservative as my country. That your father doesn’t seem fazed by your sister doing things out of order, if you will, says something.”

  “The order doesn’t matter. Max’s devotion to Arianna is indisputable.”

  “She is very lucky. As you and I both know, love matches in royal marriages are rare.”

  Yes, they were. Yet again, he tried to catch Rosa’s attention, but her profile was firmly turned toward Darius.

  Armando flexed his fingers to keep from forming a fist. A lock of hair had fallen over her eye, loosened no doubt, when they’d kissed. He wanted to comb it away from her face simply so he could run his fingers through her hair.

  He wanted to do a lot of things. Apparently being haunted by her kiss wasn’t enough—all his other buried urges returned as well.

  Coming back to life was killing him.

  “Over time...”

  Mona was talking to him again. He jerked his attention back. “I’m sorry. I missed what you said.”

  “I was talking about royal marriages,” she said. “That the absence of love in the beginning doesn’t mean the marriage won’t be successful. After all, if two people are compatible, there is no reason why they won’t develop feelings for one another over time. Love doesn’t always happen at first sight.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Armando murmured. Sometimes love crept up on you over a period of years, disguising itself as friendship until your heart was ready.

  “Especially when there are children and mutual interests involved,” Mona continued. “When two people are committed to the same goals.”

  “Working as a team,” Armando said.

  “Precisely.”

  That’s what he and Rosa were. A perfectly matched team.

  You didn’t break up a perfect team.

  He would tell Mona tonight that their arrangement was off. There would be a scandal, which would divert attention away from Arianna and her child’s illegitimacy. That had been the point of accelerating his marriage plans in the first place. Meanwhile he would court Rosa properly.

  Fingertips grazed the back of his hand, causing him to stiffen. Mona smiled apologetically. “You looked a million miles away,” she said.

  “I’m sorry. I was thinking about the future.” One that looked bright for the first time in years.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she replied, “because I have, too.”

  Sadly, they weren’t thinking of the same future, and for that, he felt terrible. It wasn’t Mona’s fault love had a bad sense of timing. “Perhaps we should talk after dinner,” he said.

  “I would like that,” Mona replied. She looked down at their hands, which were still connected, she having left hers atop his. “I hope you don’t think me too forward, but I believe you and I could do a lot of good together.”

  The muscles along the back of Armando’s neck began to tense. “Good?” he repeated.

  “Yes. The flu I caught the other week. Father told you I caught it volunteering at the hospital? He lied. What he didn’t tell you was that the people of Yelgiers are suffering from a terrible health care crisis. A lot of our citizens, mostly women and children, are without decent medical attention. The fact that women are still treated as second-class citizens in many parts of the country, and are therefore seen as undeserving of care, only exacerbates the problem. So many women suffer in silence.”

  “Too many,” Armando noted, thinking of the women at Christina’s Home.

  “I’ve been reading up on how much your government has done these past years to improve conditions for women and children. I’m hoping that when our countries are united,” she said, squeezing his hand, “our countries’ combined assets will help all our people.”

  Our people. Armando stared at his untouched dessert, the weight of Mona’s speech pressing down upon his shoulders. With a few eloquent sentences, Mona had reminded him how much was at stake. Their engagement wasn’t just about them. It wasn’t even about protecting his family from scandal. It was about doing what was best for his people. Corinthia was counting on him to lead them to a prosperous future. To keep them safe and healthy. And now, thanks to his agreement with Omar, so were the people of Yelgiers.

  Every single candle in every single window...

  If he broke off the engagement, it would mean far more than some headlines and bad blood. While they might not realize it, there were people who needed his marriage to Mona to make their lives better.

  How could he walk away knowing he was failing people? His people. Mona’s people. As much as he loved Rosa—and, oh, God, he did love her, more than he thought possible—he could never live with himself.

  Better to settle for kisses under the mistletoe and be able to look at himself in the mirror.

  He’d been right earlier. Love really did have terrible timing.

  * * *

  For the first time in her life, Rosa couldn’t find comfort in a chocolate dessert.

  “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant, too,” Darius joked. “You’ve got that same green-around-the-gills look the princess used to get when she first showed up in New York.”

  No such luck, she thought, putting a hand to her stomach. If she were pregnant with Armando’s child, she would be doing cartwheels of joy. The only thing making her green was a bad case of jealousy. Brought on by seeing Mona holding Armando’s hand.

  “Just indigestion,” she replied.

  “I hear ya,” Darius replied. “That was a lot of food. Makes me wonder what we’re going to get at the wedding tomorrow.”

  Oh, Lord, the wedding. Maybe she could claim illness and stay home. That way she wouldn’t have to face another eight hours of seeing Armando and Mona together.

  The American leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Thank goodness I’ve got till tomorrow night to digest everything. Otherwise, I might need some emergency tailoring on my tuxedo. Max would kill me. You sure it’s indigestion?” he asked at her halfhearted laugh.

  “It is.” Rosa was still staring at the joined hands across the way. Whatever Mona was talking about had to be serious. Armando was frowning at his untouched plate.

  “I don’t know,” Dari
us replied. “That prince of yours looks pretty green, too.”

  “He’s not my prince,” Rosa answered reflexively. Never was, but for five minutes under the mistletoe.

  Now that Darius mentioned it, though, Armando did look pale. Good. Petty as it was, she wanted him to feel as terrible as she did. She also wanted Mona to trip over her floaty train and fall on her face.

  No, she didn’t. It wasn’t the Yelgierian’s fault she was beautiful and graceful and probably brilliant.

  She wasn’t even angry with Armando. Not much, anyway. It had been her choice to kiss him. He’d said to stop thinking, and she did. A smarter woman would have heeded her own warnings. Then again, a smarter woman wouldn’t have fallen for Armando in the first place.

  To think, she’d started dinner feeling empowered. The joke was on her. She was a bigger fool than even Fredo thought she was.

  * * *

  The wedding of Princess Arianna Santoro and Maxwell Brown, the newly named Conte de Corinth, went flawlessly. Not only did security keep the press away, but the bride’s former boyfriend departed that morning on a lengthy trip to the continent. With all potential drama eliminated, the result was an intimate and beautifully romantic ceremony that even the people of Corinthia seemed content to let stay private.

  Armando and his father had to be pleased. A week from now, Armando would announce his engagement, the country would be plunged into wedding fervor yet again and no one would ever remember the princess’s pregnancy started before she met Max in New York.. Plus by this time next year, Mona would probably be pregnant—because she was no doubt amazingly fertile along with all her other qualities. Success all around. Long live the royal family of Corinthia.

  Because it was Christmas Eve, the reception did double duty as a holiday celebration, only instead of trees, there were towers of poinsettias, each near ten feet high. People could be seen exchanging gifts by them when they weren’t dancing and enjoying the wedding festivities. Seated at a table by one of the ballroom windows, Rosa triple-checked whether the decorations included mistletoe. Given her and Armando’s recent track record with the plant, one could never be too careful.

  There wasn’t any. Meaning there was no excuse for even the most casual of kisses.

  She cursed the way her heart fell.

  “You should be careful. I hear there’s a law in this country against outshining the bride.” Darius handed her a glass of wine before helping himself to the seat next to her.

  “Little chance of that, I’m afraid. Did you see Arianna?” She nodded to where the princess and her husband were posing for a photograph. Given the circumstances, Arianna had forgone a traditional gown in favor of simple pink satin, but her happy glow made her easily the most beautiful woman in the room.

  “She looks good, but you’re definitely a close second.”

  Rosa rolled her eyes. “Sounds like someone’s been helping himself to the champagne.”

  “Sounds like someone needs to help herself to a little more.” To prove his point, his added the remaining contents of his glass to hers. “Here, drink up,” he said, sliding the glass toward her. “It’ll make watching them a little easier.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Surely she wasn’t that transparent.

  Apparently she was, because the man immediately gave her a look. “Sweetheart, I’m a New York bartender. I know how to read people. In your case, it’s not that hard. You’ve been watching the guy since last night’s main course.”

  No sense pretending she didn’t know what he meant. Directly across the dance floor, Armando and Mona were talking to her father, Omar. Mona was the one dangerously close to upstaging the bride. Her strapless gown looked sewn onto her body.

  She paled compared to Armando, though. Both he and his father were in full regalia for the wedding, navy blue uniforms complete with sash and sword. He looked like he belonged on a white charger.

  “For crying out loud, you’re staring at him right now,” Darius said. “Damn good thing I don’t have self-esteem issues.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. I...”

  “Got a thing for the guy?”

  Rosa felt her cheeks burn. Quickly, she grabbed her wine and swallowed. “I’m afraid it’s complicated.”

  “I know. I met her last night. What’s her deal, anyway?”

  Rosa told him.

  “Fiancée, huh? Then why were you two sneaking off last night? I told you, I’m observant,” he added when she gasped.

  Because Armando got jealous and said he wanted her. He kissed her like she’d never been kissed before, and probably never would be again. He let her pretend for a moment that a woman like her could be a princess, and now she was sitting at a wedding angry at her own foolishness.

  “I told you,” she said. “It’s complicated.”

  “I bet. Complicated is why I’m glad I’m single. Come on.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Let’s fox-trot.”

  Rosa shook her head. “I don’t think...”

  “You really want to sit here looking like a sad chipmunk all night, or do you want him to see you enjoying yourself next time he looks in your direction?”

  Rosa looked over to see Mona place a proprietary hand on Armando’s arm. The woman certainly didn’t waste time marking her territory. “There’s a good chance I’ll step on your toes.”

  “Good, that makes two of us.”

  Darius, it turned out, was a worse dancer than she was. By the second song, they were both laughing over how much they were tripping up the other. Rosa had to admit, it felt good to make mistakes and laugh about them. Made her forget her heartache for a little while.

  That was, until a familiar hand tapped Darius on the shoulder. “May I?” Armando asked. His eyes, as well as his request, were directed at her.

  Rosa could feel Darius tightening his grip in an effort to protect her. “It’s all right,” she told him. Actually, it was probably a mistake, but the chance to be in Armando’s arms was too great a temptation to pass up.

  “You two seem to be enjoying yourselves,” Armando said when she stepped into his arms. “I’m sorry I had to interrupt.” Rosa bristled at his barely disguised jealousy. What made him think he had any right?

  “Isn’t that the point of a wedding? To enjoy yourself?”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he replied. He twirled their bodies toward a far end of the dance floor. “That’s a lie. I meant it exactly as it sounded. It killed me to see you in his arms.”

  “Really? Because watching you with Mona is a picnic.”

  Her jab hit its mark, because he immediately winced. “You’re right. I have no business saying anything, and I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” she replied. If these were to be the only moments Armando held her, she didn’t want to waste them fighting. It was because the position reminded her too much of last night, and the memories were too raw to handle politely. She ached for him to close the distance between their bodies. A few inches, that was all. Enough for her to rest her head on his shoulder and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

  Instead, the song ended. She started to step away, but Armando tightened his grip on her waist. “One more dance,” he said. “There’s something I need to say.”

  “Armando...” He was going to talk about Mona and obligations and all the other topics she wanted to forget.

  “Please, Rosa.”

  Whatever made her think she had a chance? Letting out a breath, she relaxed into his touch. “You know I can never say no to you.”

  “I know,” he replied.

  While he spoke, his gaze traced a line along her cheek, performing the caress he couldn’t do by hand. Rosa’s insides cried for the touch.

  They danced in silence for what felt like forever. F
inally, just when she was ready to say something, Armando spoke. “Do you know what I did last night?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I counted the lights I could see from my bedroom window. Seven hundred fourteen. In that one patch of space. Do you know how many there are in the entire country? One point two million.”

  “Oh, ’Mando.” She knew where this was going.

  “Never have I resented so many lights,” he said, gazing past her.

  “That’s not true. You don’t resent them,” she replied. “You love them.”

  Still looking past her shoulder, Armando sighed. “You’re right. I wish I did hate them, though. I wish I didn’t care what happened to any of them.”

  He pulled his gaze back to her, and she saw that the perpetual melancholy that clouded his eyes was twice as thick. “I do, though. Dammit, I do.”

  “I’m glad.” Yes, a selfish part of her wanted him not to care, but it was Armando’s love for his people that made him who he was.

  “She wants to improve medical care. Mona. That’s what she wants to do when we’re married. Improve medical care in both countries. There will be thousands more candles to look after.”

  She could feel the responsibility pushing down upon him. Suddenly Rosa understood. He was backed into a corner. Choose duty and save lives. Choose for himself and fail two countries. Whatever anger she might still have began to fade. “You’re doing the right thing,” she told him. Like he always did. The responsible young boy who looked out for his sister on a bigger scale. “Corinthia—and Yelgiers—are lucky to have a leader who cares so much.”

  “Perhaps.” He didn’t look convinced. He looked...sad. “I had no right to kiss you, Rosa. It was wrong.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “But it’s true. I knew I had obligations, and yet, like a selfish bastard, I went after what I wanted anyway. Who knows what would have happened if Vittorio hadn’t interrupted us?”

  They both knew what would have happened.

  “How does that make me any different than Fredo?” he asked.

  His self-loathing had gone too far. Halting her steps, she touched her fingers to his lips to silence him. “You are nothing like Fredo.”