Читать книгу The Dreaming Of... Collection - Оливия Гейтс - Страница 45

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THEY WERE MARRIED two days later in the largest cathedral in Santo Sierra. Church bells tolled at the strike of midday and white doves were released in commemoration of the historic event. Quite how the palace staff had managed to gather and accommodate world leaders and royalty in such a short space of time would’ve blown Jasmine’s mind, had she not been in a continued state of numb shock.

Stephen and her mother had flown in this morning on Reyes’s jet, and, although Jasmine had had a hard time managing her mother’s questions and tearful exclamations of how beautiful Jasmine looked, she was thankful for their presence. They were literally two familiar faces in a multitude of strangers.

Her mother was riding in the second car with Isabella, while Jasmine rode to the cathedral in the back of a Rolls-Royce Phantom. Beside her, Stephen enumerated the many luxuries of the car. Jasmine nodded absently, too preoccupied with not throwing up over her astonishingly beautiful gown to answer.

All too soon, they arrived at the church. A dozen ten-year-old pageboys lined either side of the royal-blue carpet that led to the aisle, each one holding up a jewelled-hilted sword that signified the twelve generations since Reyes’s ancestors had ruled Santo Sierra.

Jasmine gripped Stephen’s arm as her stepfather led her down the aisle. She tried to pin a smile on her face as the sea of faces on either side of the aisle gawped at her with unbridled curiosity.

The surprise wedding and unconfirmed reports of a possible pregnancy had sent the world’s media wild. The press office’s no comment on the subject had been taken as tacit confirmation.

‘Almost there, my darling,’ Stephen murmured. His reassurance calmed her nerves, helping her to focus on her destination.

The top of the aisle, where Reyes waited. She couldn’t see his face clearly through her lace veil, but his imposing figure was hard to miss. Dressed in formal military regalia complete with shoulder tassels, sash and sword, he looked more dashing than any man had the right to look.

The butterflies in her stomach multiplied.

Since their night at the wedding-cake house, she’d seen him for less than a handful of minutes. Each time, he’d been reserved to the point of being curt. At their last meeting, he’d presented her with an engagement ring belonging to his grandmother. The stunning baguette diamond ring she now wore on her right hand, according to protocol, was flanked by two further teardrop diamonds and completed in a platinum band.

Reyes had stopped only to ask whether she liked it before, after her startled nod, he’d walked away.

She couldn’t help but think that her probing questions about love had twigged him to her feelings for him. Feelings he didn’t welcome.

All through the many fittings and wedding protocol, she hadn’t been able to dismiss the knowledge that Reyes would never love her, no matter how much she tried. Again and again she recalled the look on his face when she’d blurted out that damning statement on the plane. A statement he hadn’t so far denied.

Stephen eased her hand from his arm, and she realised they’d reached the steps of the altar. Eyes damp, her stepfather gazed down at her. ‘I’m so proud of, my dear. So very proud,’ he murmured. ‘You’re the daughter I wished for, and I hope you’ll forgive me for not always being the father I could’ve been.’

She knew he was referring to the business with Joaquin.

Her throat clogged and she blinked back her own tears. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. Absolutely nothing,’ she whispered back.

His own eyes brimming with tears, Stephen placed her hand on the gloved hand Reyes held out.

She searched Reyes’s face, and her heart dropped. Nothing in his demeanour showed he was happy to be here. He flinched when a muted roar sounded from outside where the crowd was watching the ceremony on giant screens.

Intent on discovering a hint of emotion that would abate the fear beating beneath her breast, she stepped closer to him.

A discreet cough sounded half a step behind her. She turned to find a teenage usher holding out a polished silver tray. Flustered, Jasmine placed her bouquet on it, and tried to ignore the hushed murmuring behind her.

Reyes squeezed her hand. Heart lifting, she glanced at him. But he was staring straight ahead, his chiselled profile holding no signs of tenderness.

They exchanged vows in Spanish and English, with the sermon and following register signing also conducted in both languages.

When the priest urged Reyes to kiss his bride, his lips barely warmed hers for a moment before he stepped back.

Through it all, Jasmine smiled, and felt her heart break into tiny pieces. She’d fallen in love with a man who she had a soul-deep suspicion would never love her back.

A cheer from the thousands of subjects lining the streets roused Jasmine from her dazed state. Her hand tightened on Reyes’s arm as he helped her into the gilt-framed glass carriage.

‘Smile, querida. Anyone would think you were attending a funeral, not your own wedding.’

Plastering a smile on her face, she waved to the crowd. ‘I haven’t seen anything of you in the past two days,’ she muttered from the side of her lips.

Reyes lifted his hand in acknowledgement of the crowd. ‘And neither will you be seeing me for the coming weeks. I’m going to be very busy. I assume you saw Mendez among the guests?’

The heart that had squeezed painfully at his first words lurched in anxiety at the reference to Mendez. ‘Yes, I did.’

‘I sent the opening salvo yesterday. He’s desperate to recommence talks.’

She continued to wave as she’d been instructed and glanced at Reyes from the corner of her eye. ‘What about the new council? Will they back you?’

‘Yes, I have people in place I trust. I don’t intend to stop until a new treaty is signed.’

She nodded, feeling miserable inside. Trust was important. Would he ever trust her enough to let himself feel more for her?

Not likely.

Her hand drooped. Thankfully, they were going through a long archway that connected San Domenica to the palace, where the wedding banquet was being held.

‘Are you all right?’

Her breath huffed out before she could stop it. ‘I’m an ex-juvenile delinquent who’s just been crowned Princess of one of the most influential kingdoms in the world. I’m very, very far from all right.’

She startled as he picked up her free hand and placed it on his thigh. ‘You’ve overcome the adversities thrust at you many times before. You’ll rise to the challenge this time, too.’

Her limbs weakened and, against her better judgement, hope sprang in her chest. It bloomed when he picked up her hand and kissed the back of it.

The roar vibrated against the glass, and she became painfully aware of the reason for the gesture. Pain slammed into her. She couldn’t pull away, not without thousands of eyes witnessing the withdrawal.

She kept the smile on her face until she feared her jaw would crack. ‘So the honeymoon is over even before the ink has dried on the marriage certificate?’ she demanded waspishly.

His eyes gleamed. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree that ours hasn’t been a straightforward route to the altar.’

If it hadn’t been for the baby, they wouldn’t have found themselves in front of an altar at all. ‘No. I guess not.’

His lips pursed, an infinitesimal motion no one else would’ve caught. But she saw it.

‘Can I suggest, however, that we make the best of it?’

When his gaze dropped to her stomach, and an intense emotion passed over his face, Jasmine’s world greyed further.

‘Of course.’

She tried to breathe, but there was little room in her wedding dress for such frivolities. The lace-and-satin gown cupped her breast and torso and dropped to flare in a long dress and train. Isabella had called every fashion house in Europe and had started a bidding war on who would design the Crown Princess’s wedding gown. The two-day deadline hadn’t daunted even one of them.

Jasmine had finally settled on a Milanese couturier who’d worked magic with fabric right before her eyes. The material was heavy without being oppressive and the lace provided her with means of keeping cool in the hot Santo Sierran sun.

Now her crown was a different story. It weighed a ton, decorated as it was with ninety-nine diamonds, rubies and emeralds.

She touched it, felt the sharp bumps of precious gems beneath her fingers, and hysterical laughter bubbled from her throat. ‘Is it true the crown designer stopped at ninety-nine because the palace decreed at the time that a hundred was too ostentatious?’

One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘You’ve been learning Santo Sierra history.’

‘I thought I should, seeing as I have no choice now.’

His smile dimmed. ‘Sí, we all have our crosses to bear.’

* * *

The wedding banquet carried on much like the wedding. Except where several priests muttered homilies, Jasmine had to sit through several speeches from well-wishers from around the world.

Numerous toasts were also raised in honour of the absent king, whom she’d met for the first time that morning.

So very like his son in stature, but with a defeated look in his eyes that made him seem...less. He’d haltingly given them their blessing before his medication had kicked in again.

She’d watched Reyes kiss his father’s forehead with tears trapped in her throat. The love between father and son had been palpable, and Jasmine could just imagine what the turbulent period had done to them.

The clear love in his eyes when he gazed down at his father had given her a little more hope. Hope that was very quickly dwindling as the distance between them grew with each hour.

She smiled for a solid hour. Then smiled some more. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any more. They’d finished with the formalities and those guests who wished it were getting into the dancing session of the evening.

Jasmine rose.

‘I’m going to bed.’

Reyes glanced up from where he’d been in deep conversation with one of his advisors. Rising, too, he tucked her arm through his.

‘I’ll escort you.’

She shook her head. ‘You don’t need to—’

‘Sí, I do.’ The implacable dominance behind the words shut her up.

As they mounted the stairs her heart began to flutter.

Everything had gone at such a fast and furious pace, she hadn’t thought to the wedding night.

Liar.

She’d thought of nothing but the wedding night since she woke this morning, and terrified herself with different scenarios, most of which had ended with her going to bed alone.

Now, as she walked beside Reyes...her husband...she allowed herself to believe everything would be all right.

They reached their door and he raised her hand to his mouth, kissed the back of it. ‘I’ve arranged for two of the servants to help you with your gown. Sleep well, querida.’