Читать книгу Marrying His Majesty - Marion Lennox - Страница 14

THEY were to depart in a bridal coach. A gold-painted barouche with the Sappheiros coat of arms emblazoned on the panels, with white leather upholstery and white satin cushions—something straight out of Cinderella.

It took only this, Lily thought in disbelief. Alex handed her up into the coach. Attendants arranged her skirts and her train, tucking her in with care.

Alex climbed up and sat beside her.

Eleni handed up Michales.

This had been a crazy day. She was about as far from her comfort zone as she’d ever want to be. But this… this was just plain fantasy. This was every girl’s dream—being whisked off in a golden coach with Prince Charming.

In the fairy tales she’d read, babies weren’t included. But Michales definitely was.

So… Her Prince Charming was sitting beside her. He looked absurdly handsome—regal and tasselled and armed with sword and all the things a Prince Of The Blood should be.

She probably even looked like a princess, she conceded. All white satin and lace and exquisite beading—and there were diamonds in her tiara, for heaven’s sake.

There were four white horses in their traces, heads held high, shiny, sleek, gold harnesses, bits and assorted leather stuff. They had gold and white attachments and white-feathered headdresses—did horses wear headdresses? These ones did, she decided. They looked fabulous.

Even the coachman looked amazing. His uniform was almost as ornate as Alex’s—only he was wearing a top hat.

There were sixteen more horsemen, eight in front and eight behind. Horseguards?

Was one of them carrying a diaper bag? She daren’t ask. She hoped someone had thought of it, but the royal princess standing up and asking for diapers… maybe not.

The desire to giggle grew even stronger.

Michales jiggled on her knee. She hugged him. He crowed with delight and squirmed and tried to reach her tiara.

It was too much. She burst out laughing and Alex stared at her as if she’d entirely lost it.

‘What the… ?’

‘Cinderella and Prince Charming—and Baby,’ she told him, and grinned and lifted the unprotesting Michales across to his father’s knee. ‘Here. You hold him. He’s not very good with travelling.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I suspect you might find out for yourself,’ she said and chuckled again at the expression on his face. Then, as it seemed to be expected of her—she’d seen the odd royal wedding on the telly—she turned and smiled broadly at the crowd. She waved!

If he could be a prince, she could be a princess.

‘I might find out what for myself?’ he said cautiously.

‘You’ll know it when it happens,’ she said sagely. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be waving?’

‘I appear to be needing to hang on.’

‘That’s all right,’ she said magnanimously. ‘You hold on and I’ll wave for the two of us.’

This was dumb but she couldn’t stop grinning. She was so far out of her comfort zone that she ought to be a quivering wreck. But she’d just got through a royal wedding and she hadn’t fallen over once. As far as she knew, she hadn’t said anything stupid.

She was married.

This was no real marriage, she told herself. She surely intended staying… well, not married in the true sense of the word. But she was married and she wasn’t afraid of Alex. She didn’t trust him, but then maybe she didn’t have to trust. This was a business arrangement. If she could just keep her cool, keep her independence, maybe she could even enjoy this—just a bit.

Maybe that was hysteria speaking.

Just wave to the crowds, pin your smile in place and try not to think of the man sitting beside you with your baby on his lap, she told herself.

Her baby’s father.

Her… husband.

This was crazy. He didn’t belong here.

Hell, he had to do this. The islanders needed him to be Crown Prince but every nerve in his body was screaming at him to get out of here, get back to Manhattan, go into his office, slam the door on the outside world and design a garden or six.

For the last ten years garden design had been his life. As a child, his only friends had been the palace servants. An old gardener had taken him under his wing, and the palace garden had become an enormous pleasure.

When his mother had been permitted to return to the island they’d designed a garden, and the two years they had together had seen it become a wondrous living thing.

Then, when he’d joined the army to finally get away from his uncle, to achieve financial independence, he’d kept on designing. He’d sent in an entry to an international competition.

That entry had changed his life.

This wasn’t his life, he told himself savagely. It was the last lingering trace of Giorgos’s reign. Lily was sister to the last Queen. This woman sitting beside him, waving to the crowd, her smile wide and genuine, was a fairy tale princess. Like Mia, she was playing a part. In time she could move on.

Whereas he… he was stuck with reality.

In the shape of his son?

It wasn’t just that, though the sensation of a small robust person sitting on his knee was certainly unnerving. It was the whole set-up.

As an idealistic youngster he’d dreamed of ruling this country, of being able to do what he had to do to make the island prosper. He’d dreamed of being given the authority to do it.

He’d never dreamed of this. He was in a fairy tale coach with a fairy tale wife and a tiny son.

She was looking as if she enjoyed it.

Maybe she was better at pretending than he was.

This was so… fake. The only problem was, though, that when he woke in the morning it would be worse. There were so many problems. He’d take a couple of days out of the frame here to get this marriage thing settled and over, but he had to get back. Two or three days’ honeymoon…

It wasn’t really a honeymoon.

Lily was waving at the crowd as if she meant it. She was enjoying herself?

Maybe he could use this to his advantage, he thought suddenly. If she was to be accepted by the islanders… she could stay here and play princess. He could still make the important decisions but it might give him time to escape to his other life. The garden designs he loved.

It was worth a thought. Lily as a figurehead.

Maybe… maybe…

Maybe this was too soon to tell. There was no way he was going to trust her.

She was doing okay now. Better than he was.

She was better at pretending. Better at… deceiving?

He looked out over the crowd of onlookers. There were those in the crowd who wished him ill. There were those who wanted this fledgling principality to fail so they could gather the remains.

He had to do this. He had no choice.

His bride was by his side and she was waving. It seemed he was part of a royal family, even if that family was as fractured as his family always had been.

He waved.

‘My smile hurts,’ Lily whispered.

‘My face aches,’ he confessed.

‘Really?’ She swivelled to stare. ‘But you’re used to this.’

‘I’m a landscape architect. Not a prince.’ He shook his head. ‘No. This is what I wanted. It just feels too ridiculous for words.’

‘Just smile and wave,’ she said wisely. ‘It doesn’t matter if no one’s at home.’

‘If no one’s at home… ’

‘Anyone can be royal. Plan your gardens in your head while you wave.’ She waved a bit more and smiled a bit more. ‘Look at me. I’m getting good at it.’

‘So you… ’

‘I’m planning boats.’

They’d swung out of the palace grounds now. People were coming out of their houses to see them go past.

They had eight outriders behind and eight in front.

Lily waved to an elderly couple standing in their garden. The old man didn’t wave back but the old woman almost did. She lifted her hand—and then thought better of it.

‘They still think I’m like Mia,’ Lily said, stoically waving. ‘Just lucky I’m not taking this personally.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. He waved and the old man and woman immediately waved back.

‘You must have sex appeal,’ Lily said sagely. ‘Or something.’

‘They know me.’

‘They’re never going to know me,’ Lily said and it sounded as if the idea was comforting.

He should be reassured by that. But there was a stab of jealousy. And something more…

The only places Lily had seen on Sappheiros had been the royal palace and the chapel-cum-cathedral in its grounds. They’d been enough to take her breath away—all spires and turrets and opulence in a fairy tale setting, the sapphire coastline backed by mountains. The palace and cathedral were way over-the-top for a small country, she’d thought, but still, royal was royal, and she’d assumed the whole of the Diamond Isles must be in favour of a bit of pomp and splendour.

Now she wasn’t so sure. The coastal road was lined with houses that looked shabby, some almost derelict. From what she’d learned over the last two weeks, the people had been taxed to the hilt to pay for the kings’ follies.

Now Alex told her he was taking her to his private house. He’d been raised as nephew to the King. For much of his life he’d been first in line to the throne, so she assumed his home would be opulent as well.

Their retinue slowed as they came to a curve in a road that had been getting rougher the further they’d travelled from the city. At one time it must have been paved, but the bitumen was cracked now and giving way. The coastal road—a magnificent route set halfway up the cliffs and overlooking the sea—swept around a headland and on, but the coach slowed by a sign that said—discreetly—‘Hideaway’.

The coach stopped, as did the outriders.

Alex stepped down onto the track and held out a hand to help her down.

‘Um… where are we?’ She gazed around her with surprise. They were in the middle of nowhere. A beautiful nowhere but nowhere nevertheless.

‘We need to walk,’ he said.

‘Walk.’

‘It’s a rhododendron drive. It’s too low for the horses to go underneath.’

‘These guys can’t take off their fancy headgear?’ She gazed round at the impassive horsemen. The horses were standing motionless. There was not a blink from man or horse.

‘From this gate we’re not royal,’ he said, so softly only she could hear. ‘This road has been deliberately left so the royal vehicles can’t get through.’

‘Right.’ but it wasn’t right. She didn’t understand. This was where the fairy tale stopped?

They needed to walk? Fine if you were wearing glossy black boots and a sword to slash the undergrowth. She had four-inch heels and a twenty-foot train.

But she was almost past worrying. Hysteria was carrying her along nicely—as well as her innate sense of the ridiculous.

‘Okay then,’ she said, and she thought she even sounded hysterical. ‘We walk. Did you bring scroggin?’

‘Scroggin?’ he said blankly.

‘Food for serious hikers. You can’t go more than twenty miles without it.’

He grinned. ‘What about three hundred yards? Or I could bring the Jeep down to fetch you. Sorry about this, but this place is private. We don’t want horseguards on our honeymoon.’

‘No,’ she said cautiously.

Honeymoon.

Right.

Alex had obviously been planning this. Yeah, she could see that about him. A planner.

It made her nervous. Or more nervous. How nervous could she get?

Concentrate on practicalities, she told herself. Here she was, in full bridal attire, stuck in the middle of nowhere.

With a baby. Once again the issue of a diaper bag raised its head.

‘There is the small matter of our baggage,’ she said cautiously. ‘Much as I love being a bride, this look could get a bit over-the-top at breakfast. And you get to look after Michales if there are no clean diapers.’

‘Our luggage was brought here earlier.’

She gulped. And nodded. ‘Of course it was. So we were always coming here?’

‘Did you want to stay in the palace?’

‘It all depends,’ she said and picked up her skirts. ‘On what I find at the end of this rhododendron drive. Thanks, guys,’ she said to their escort and waved but they didn’t respond by one fraction of a lift of an eyebrow.

She wasn’t much good at this princess business.

Just lucky it was temporary.

She looked sideways at her temporary husband.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘If you didn’t bring the scroggin, then we’d better move fast.’ She faced up the track and took a deep breath and started walking. She was aware that Alex watched her for a minute without moving. Why? Surely the sight of a bride trudging into a gloom of rhododendrons must be commonplace!

But finally he followed, carrying her son.

She turned and looked—and then looked away again fast. The sight of Alex with Michales had the power to make her feel… hungry?

Hungry for what? She wasn’t sure.

‘You’re good,’ he said as he caught up with her. They were out of sight—and out of earshot of their outriders now.

‘At hiking? I’d like to see you hike in heels this high.’

‘I couldn’t,’ he admitted. ‘But that’s not what I was saying. You were great today.’

‘I did what I had to do,’ she said, stalking on as purposefully as four-inch heels allowed. ‘The islanders don’t like me, but that’s okay. I won’t be staying here long enough for it to matter.’

‘A year,’ he said.

‘That’s what the deal is.’

‘Unless we want more.’

She stopped. Uh-oh. There were things to clear up here before they went an inch further.

‘Alex, let’s get this straight,’ she said, making her voice firm. Or as firm as it was possible to get when her breathing wouldn’t work properly. ‘There are two things I want in life and only two.’

‘And they would be?’

You, she thought, but there was no way she was telling Alex that. She was afraid of even admitting it to herself.

‘My son and my boats,’ she managed. ‘I might be able to squash a marriage of convenience in at the edges but that’s all. If anything—anything—gets in the way of my two priorities then I’m out of here.’

‘You don’t want to be a fairy tale princess?’

‘That’s Mia’s department. I’m just me.’

‘It’s possible to compromise,’ he said softly. ‘That’s why I brought you here.’

‘To teach me to compromise. No deal. I told you… ’

‘Your baby and your boats. Yes, you did. I get that loud and clear. But there’s also the fact that we have a country to govern.’

‘You, kiddo,’ she snapped.

‘I need your help.’

‘For what? I’ve done the fairy tale bit. This train is so heavy… ’

‘I need you to help me create stability,’ he said. He took her train from her grasp so he was holding her son and the sheer weight of her gown. He met her look so steadily that she thought for a blind, dumb moment that he was sex on legs and she was married to him for real. She fought a fast internal fight and managed a sensible reply.

‘How can I do that when the islanders hate me?’

‘They don’t hate you. They don’t know you.’

‘Which is fine.’

‘Which would have been fine if I hadn’t seduced you… ’

She gasped. ‘What the… ?’ Whoa. Where was he going with this?

There was no way she was continuing this hike into nowhere if he stayed believing that. ‘If I remember rightly, it was me who seduced you,’ she snapped. ‘Did I not?’

He looked a bit… stunned. ‘I can’t remember,’ he admitted.

‘You said that before. Any minute now you’ll tell me you were drunk.’

‘I wasn’t drunk. I remember every part of that last night.’

‘Me, too,’ she said. ‘It was a truly excellent night. But it wasn’t me playing the pathetic part of Sleeping Beauty, leaving the action solely to my prince. I’m your equal in every way and I have rights. We made love once and we were stupid. We were both stupid. So get over it.’ She grabbed her train, turned and walked on a few steps, then swore, removed her shoes and picked up the pace.

He let her go. She was holding her own train again. She looked… free, he thought and was hit by a stab of pure, unadulterated jealousy. And more…

His bride, running under the dark canopy, looking nothing at all like Mia, nothing at all like any woman he’d ever met.

She was still wearing her veil and her headpiece. She was still a bride. If he wasn’t holding Michales…

She emerged from the tunnel of rhododendrons, angry and confused.

She saw Alex’s house and she forgot angry and confused. She forgot everything.

It was as if a wand had been waved, transforming the world from a dark, threatening place into sheer fantasy. Not fantasy as in the over-the-top royal palace. Fantasy as in sheer delight.

The house had been built into the cliffs. It was a whitewashed villa, built on three levels, with winding steps joining each level. There were rocky ledges between each level, with bench seats and tables so someone could conceivably carry a drink down towards the beach and pause at each bend, to sit and admire the view.

There were flowers everywhere, spilling from every crevice, so the rock face was bursting with colour. Bougainvillea—crimson, pinks and deep, deep burgundy. There were daisies, growing as if birds had dropped their seeds and they’d simply grown where they’d been dropped. A great twisted vine of wisteria seemed to hold the place together, its gnarled, knotted wood adorned with vast sprays of soft, glorious blues.

The house looked deceptively simple, built of stone, weathered to beauty, appearing to be almost part of the cliffs. Tiny balconies protruded from each window, joining the intricate flow of steps down to the beach.

And, below the house, the sea—sapphire, translucent, magic. A tiny cove. A wooden dinghy hauled up on the sand.

There were even a couple of dolphins in the bay.

Lily stopped and stared. It was all she could do not to cry out in delight.

‘The dolphins… ’

‘I pay ’em to do that,’ Alex said, coming up behind her. He smiled. ‘Welcome home.’

‘I… It’s not my home,’ she whispered, awed.

‘You’ve married me. I guess in a sense it is your home.’

‘Does the pre-nup say I get half?’ she said before she could stop herself, and kept right on gazing, eager to convince herself that this was real, that this wasn’t some Cinderella fairy tale. There was no midnight looming here, for fantasy to return this place to mice and pumpkins.

Or maybe there was but she couldn’t think of that right now. This place was seductive in its loveliness.

She could play with Michales on this beach. Maybe she could stay here for the year of their marriage. There’d be no need to juggle work and baby care. The terror in her head was gone.

Here she could be free.

Her eyes filled with tears. She brushed them away fiercely, angrily, but still they came.

Alex was beside her, calmly handing her a handkerchief. She took it and blew her nose. Defiant.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, but he was still smiling and she had to suspect he knew exactly what was wrong.

‘This would have to be the most seductive setting in the known universe,’ she whispered.

‘You’re the first woman I’ve ever brought here.’

She sniffed. She looked at him with suspicion over the top of his handkerchief. ‘And that has to be the most seductive line,’ she managed, trying to sound caustic—and failing.

‘You don’t trust me?’

‘Would you trust you?’ She waved his handkerchief at the scene in front of her. ‘Would you trust yourself?’

‘It’s great, isn’t it?’

‘You built this garden?’ She hesitated. ‘Of course you built it. You’re a landscape architect. I read about it. You’ve won prizes.’

‘You build boats. I design gardens.’

‘Here?’

‘Not many,’ he admitted. ‘I mostly work out of Manhattan.’

That was confusing. ‘Are you still working in Manhattan?’

‘When I can. As often as I can get away from here.’

Whoa. Panic! ‘You mean you’re going back to Manhattan?’

‘You don’t want me here, do you?’ He shrugged. ‘I’d assumed you’d stay in the palace, play with Spiros and your boats and your son. I need to put some solid work into rebuilding this economy but if I can manage to get that sorted then I’m free to do what I want.’

Where was the problem with that? She stared down at the cove. Thinking. Or trying to think.

There were factors at play here she hadn’t thought of. She felt as if she were floating in a bubble—she was precariously safe within, but any minute it could burst. What was outside? Who knew?

‘Do you swim?’ he asked.

‘Of course.’ In the midst of confusion, here was something solid.

‘I feel a swim coming on,’ he said, and why did she feel he was changing the subject? ‘We have an hour or so before dusk. Can you bear to take off your wedding dress?’

‘I can’t wait to take off my wedding dress.’ Then, dumbly, she felt herself blushing. ‘I mean… ’

‘I know what you mean,’ he told her. ‘You’ll have a separate apartment here, too.’

Great. It was great. Wasn’t it?

‘But Michales… ’ she managed.

‘He’s almost six months old. Shouldn’t he be surfing by now?’

‘How long can we stay here?’ she asked, staring longingly down at the cove. The dolphins had been joined by friends. They were catching waves, surfing in amazing synchronisation, then performing sleek tumbling turns and gliding out to catch more.

It looked fantastic. How could she think of anything but the sight before her?

‘You can stay for two weeks maybe,’ he told her. ‘I need to go earlier.’

Suddenly she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to think past this moment.

‘Then we’re wasting time. Those dolphins are in my waves. Let’s swim.’