The Prince’s Captive Wife

CHAPTER SEVEN

THREE days later.

It all seemed a bit rushed to Holly-a bit crazy-but the plan was that she leave the island for the mainland, she go straight to the palace and wed before the day was out.

She hadn’t seen Andreas. There’d been one curt phone call. ‘It’s organized,’ he had told her. ‘Or it will be organized. There’ll be a meeting with your lawyers and ours. You’ll need to sign the contracts. Sophia has taken your measurements. All you need to do is come.’

‘Um…my lawyers?’

‘I’ve employed the best for you,’ he said, and there was a tinge of grim humour in his voice. ‘And, believe me, they’re good. They’re screwing us down on detail like you wouldn’t believe.’

‘I don’t think I need…’

‘You don’t know what you need,’ he told her curtly. ‘Neither do I. We’re doing what has to be done but I’m putting as many safeguards in place as I can think of. How’s Deefer?’

‘I…he’s great.’ Deefer was her one sure thing-a fluff ball, alert and intelligent and raring to bond with her. If she hadn’t had Deefer she would have gone nuts. To sit on the beach and think of nothing but her impending wedding…

‘Don’t let that nose get any redder, will you, my love?’ Andreas said softly, moving on. ‘It’ll clash with the pink roses my mother plans to decorate the chapel with.’

And he was gone, leaving her to wait. And wait and wait and wait. And go quietly nuts.

But the wedding day did happen. Sophia entered her room at dawn, pushed the drapes wide and beamed.

‘Happy is the bride who the sun shines on.’

‘You must have a whole country of happy brides,’ Holly said, feeling really wobbly and sounding grumpy. ‘This country’s too sunny by half.’

‘So smile,’ Sophia said. ‘Your wedding day…’

‘It’s not a true wedding.’

‘Is it not?’

‘You know it’s not,’ she said crossly. ‘I’m his captive wife.’

‘Ah, but his non-captive wife…’ Sophia said softly. ‘Christina…now there was a disaster. If that was the best the royal family could come up with then maybe his captive wife is who he should have had in the first place.’ Her smile faded and she crossed to the bed and looked down at Holly-and at Deefer whose small black nose just happened to be sticking out from under the duvet. ‘I’m thinking my Andreas found his bride ten years ago-he just never knew he had her.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she whispered, feeling more terrified by the minute. ‘You know this is just convenience. You know he doesn’t want a bride.’

‘I know you have a chance,’ Sophia said and put her hand on Holly’s cheek in a fleeting gesture of blessing. ‘I know my Andreas has been raised as a prince, to know what is due to him. But I also know that he has a heart and that heart has needs. Don’t you fail to take your chance for lack of courage. Now…’ Her smile softened but Holly saw lists line up in triplicate. ‘Shower. And then…I’ve laid out what you’re to wear on the helicopter. You’ll be photographed briefly in transit to the palace as you’ll be photographed from every angle today.’ She peered down at Holly’s nose and she sighed. ‘You’re still peeling. What royal bride peels? Holly, Holly, Holly, what is Andreas to do with you?’

‘Marry me?’ Holly whispered in a tiny voice.

‘Well, of course,’ Sophia said as if that was a dumb response. ‘But then what?’

And then the day started. It was okay back on the island-there were only Sophia and Nikos to see her off, Sophia sniffing into her handkerchief and Nikos just sniffing.

She sniffed herself. She sat in the back of the helicopter and hugged Deefer and decidedly sniffed. Georgiou was her pilot but she was damned if she was talking to him. She was dressed to kill in a slick little crimson suit with stiletto heels-Sophia had decreed nothing in the lavish wardrobe suitable for her first introduction to the country and had ordered Georgiou to bring this to her.

She looked as good as she could do-apart from one peeling nose.

She should have left Deefer behind. ‘I’ll mind him,’ Sophia had promised. ‘And Andreas can have him flown over after the wedding.’ But he was coming with her. Her one true thing.

Not her husband?

Andreas was waiting for her. The royal family was waiting for her. The whole damned country was waiting for her.

She hugged Deefer and she stared out the window at Andreas’s lovely island hideaway growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

And then she saw the mainland growing larger.

‘Would you like a drink before you land? There’s some in the cabinet by your side,’ Georgiou said diffidently through the headset and she flashed him a look of hatred.

‘I’d rather choke than accept a drink from you, you kidnapping toe rag.’

‘I was only following orders.’

‘Right. Well, my orders to you are to keep as far away from me as possible.’

‘I believe I can’t do that. I’m allocated as your personal bodyguard.’

‘Oh, my God,’ she said with loathing.

‘So you’ll just have to get used to me,’ he said. ‘Now, drink?’

‘I’m tempted,’ she muttered. ‘Very tempted. Is Andreas meeting the plane?’

‘He won’t see you until the wedding,’ Georgiou said, shocked. ‘It’s unlucky.’

‘So he’s not meeting the plane.’

‘I believe the entire royal family is meeting the plane,’ Georgiou said. ‘Except Andreas.’

‘Oh, goody,’ she whispered. And reconsidered. ‘Georgiou?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I will have a drink,’ she said in a small voice. ‘A very small one. But, Georgiou?’

‘Yes?’

‘Also a very strong one.’

They were there. Lined up like in a Christmas pageant. On the tarmac with a red carpet rolled out so their precious royal feet wouldn’t have to touch anything so plebian as concrete.

She recognized them from photographs. Sebastian, Crown Prince, as handsome as his brother, looking stern, autocratic, determined. Queen Tia, elegant, composed, but with the trace of trouble behind her elderly eyes. And grief, Holly wondered. She smiled now for the cameras but her glance kept wandering to her eldest son. She’d gone through the death of her husband, the realization that he’d betrayed her, and that he’d sold or given away the diamond that held the country together. All these things Holly knew, but the face Tia presented for public consumption was almost serene. She’d been schooled for public life.

Who else? Alex, the prince who’d given Andreas his outrageous wardrobe, wouldn’t be here. He was on his honeymoon, Sophia had told her. That was part of the problem for Andreas-with so much to do and the search for the diamond taking so much time the royals were overwhelmed by work.

Andreas’s two sisters were there. The brat pack, Sophia labelled them. Kitty and Lissa. ‘They love nothing better than shocking the press,’ Sophia had said, but these two beautiful women were watching Holly approach and Holly thought judging her seemed pretty high on their priority list right now.

‘They’re waiting for you,’ Georgiou said.

‘I want…Andreas.’ She sounded like a pathetic child but she couldn’t help it.

‘He’ll be waiting for you in the chapel.’

Right.

She gulped and held Deefer tighter. And walked forward to meet her future.

And after that the cameras took over. There were flashlights, flashlights and flashlights, so many that when she thought back to that day all she could remember was a blur of white light. There was a brief hiatus when she was ushered into the presence of lawyers-serious men and women who counselled her with care, who tried to make sure she understood the terms of the contract she was entering into. She tried. She really tried.

‘No further call on the crown. After divorce and settlement no further obligation on the part of the Prince Andreas to support you, financially or in any other way.’

That stood out like a sore thumb. Yes, she understood this. The wedding was something she’d agreed to do and then she’d get on with her life.

She felt in a daze. It was as if that one small drink Georgiou had offered her had anaesthetized her.

She simply had to sign. She simply had to trust.

And after the signing someone took Deefer away. She knew it had to happen. ‘He’ll be well looked after, miss. We’ll keep him safe in the kitchens until the fuss is over but he can’t stay with you during the wedding.’ The girl said it like a joke as she lifted Deefer from Holly’s arms and Holly thought, No one’s staying with me at the wedding. No one.

It was time to dress. Lace. Chiffon. Gold filigree. Hoops and flounces.

No bustles. No bows. Not that she was noticing. She felt like a puppet, pulled around at will, dressed at will. There were women everywhere, fussing about her clothes, even down to the exquisite underwear they produced with the dress. Manicurists. Make-up artists. Hair consultants. All plural. One finger each, she wanted to say to the manicurists, but she was beyond joking.

She felt like a slave in a harem. Being primped and painted for the royal master.

And then it was time. The doors swung open and liveried footmen stood ready to escort her to the chapel.

‘Holly?’

She looked past the footmen. There was Tia Karedes, Queen of Aristo. Dressed exquisitely in silver brocade, looking a million dollars.

‘You look lovely, my dear,’ Tia said softly. ‘But I wondered…would you like Sebastian to give you away?’

‘Sebastian?’

‘By rights he should stand by Andreas,’ Tia said diffidently. ‘But seeing that Sebastian has ordered this marriage I’ve said to him that the very least he can do is give you an arm to lean on. If I’m right and you need one.’

Did she need one? She was standing in the centre of the room, surrounded by servants, a vision of what a royal bride looked like. She felt so far out of her skin she might well be in outer space.

Tia was offering her the Crown Prince’s arm to support her as she went to this mock marriage.

Any arm at all, she thought blindly. So much for going into this all guns blazing. Her courage was somewhere below her elegantly shod toes.

‘Yes, please,’ she whispered. ‘And thank you for offering. I suspect I need any arm I can get.’

He hadn’t seen her for three days and he’d forgotten…or maybe he’d never known…that she could look like this.

Of course he’d never known she could look like this. A royal bride.

She was an ethereal vision, a confection of antique lace and satin. Her dress was superbly crafted to show the full swell of her breasts. Antique lace clung to each lovely curve. No bustles, he thought with approval as he watched her enter the chapel. No bows. He’d stipulated that, and the royal seamstresses had taken him at his word, but beyond that they’d indulged in every last fantasy to create a truly royal bride.

She was every inch a bride, every inch of her arranged as it should be, so she stood like Cinderella making her entrance to the ball. She was beautiful enough to take a man’s breath away. She was beautiful enough to entrance a prince…

His brother was surely entranced. The king-in-waiting stood by her side, waiting for the music to cue their slow steps along the aisle. Sebastian was in full regimentals, black and gold and crimson. This ceremony was designed to show the country that the royal family was not ashamed of this connection. This was a righting of past wrongs but it was being done with all the pomp and splendour they could muster.

Sebastian had been looking down at the girl on his arm as the chapel doors swung open, but now his gaze turned to his brother standing at the end of the aisle. What have we here? his gaze said. What am I doing, bringing beauty to you?

It was as much as Andreas could do not to walk forward and punch his lights out. That his brother touch her…

Yet this was his brother’s attempt to do the right thing. What was wrong with him that he object?

It was just…He didn’t want Holly to have anything to do with Sebastian. He didn’t want Holly to have anything to do with the royal family.

She was wearing one of the family tiaras. His mother must have lent it to her. He flashed a glance at Tia and saw his mother’s warm glance of approval.

They’d approved when he’d married Christina. If he’d brought Holly home when he should have brought her home…

This was out of kilter. Time out of frame.

Holly looked scared to death.

The background music faded. The royal trumpeter sounded forth, a single high call. The traditional bridal march for a royal.

The congregation stood. The royal household. Political dignitaries. All those who’d been deemed essential to be here.

Sebastian’s hand pressed Holly’s and she started the long walk towards him. Her face was parchment white, devoid of expression. It was almost as if Sebastian was pressuring her forward.

There was a murmur from those around them. His captive bride, being led to the slaughter.

‘Stop,’ he said and the congregation gasped as one.

Was he mad? Doing this at such a time?

But he wasn’t mad. He knew exactly what had to be done, regardless of who was watching. Before he could let any more doubt creep in he left the waiting priest and strode swiftly down the long aisle to meet his bride.

She looked up at him, dazed. Seemingly numb.

‘Leave her, Sebastian,’ he said, and when Sebastian opened his mouth to argue he fixed him with a look that might, in a bygone age, have seen his head on a block. To give such a look to his future king…But Sebastian was his brother and was, this day, of little import compared to the girl on his arm.

And Sebastian had the sense to see it. He gave his brother a quizzical smile and stepped back. The trumpeter’s notes faded into an uncertain murmur and then ceased altogether.

‘You look frightened,’ Andreas said and he took her hands in his and waited until she found the courage to look up at him.

‘N…no.’

‘Liar.’

‘Just overwhelmed,’ she managed.

‘Then don’t be,’ he said, speaking to her and only to her. ‘This is between you and me. A marriage between us. And I’m only Andreas, the boy you once loved.’

Who knew what those around were thinking? He couldn’t care. All he knew was that these few minutes were all he had to convince her to go through with this; not to bolt and run, but neither to submit in fear.

‘With a bold heart or not at all,’ he whispered, and she looked up at him as if he were a stranger.

‘A bold heart…’

‘You were never a coward, Holly,’ he said. ‘You can ride a half-broken horse bareback. You can take down a steer. You can ride muster at dawn with any man. Surely you can find it in your heart to take me on as well.’

There was a ripple of laughter through the chapel. This might be unconventional but it was romantic and even the politicians were smiling.

‘I’m not afraid of you,’ she whispered.

‘Then what, my heart?’

‘I…’

‘You want more time?’

That shocked her. Her eyes widened. She gazed at him, and then she looked around the chapel where the who’s who of Aristo were assembled waiting to see her marry.

And suddenly her smile was back, a glimmer at first, and then a full-on grin. ‘What, you’re offering me five minutes?’

‘Take six if you want.’

‘You’re all heart.’

‘You want to get married?’ he said. ‘We’re ready and waiting.’

‘You make it sound ordinary.’ The whole congregation could hear but neither of them were aware of it.

‘People do it every day. Just because you’re wearing a tiara…Take it off if it bothers you.’

‘You’d marry me without the tiara?’

‘I’d marry you with nothing on at all,’ he said and the uncertain smiles around the chapel became chuckles. This wasn’t what anyone had expected-in this atmosphere redolent of royal history and pageantry it was almost as if a breath of fresh air had blown through the chapel.

‘I reckon you wouldn’t,’ she said, and grinned and he could see the girl she’d once been; the girl she still was under the pain and loneliness the past had thrown at her.

‘I reckon I would.’ His eyes were daring her, laughing with her. ‘You want to try me?’

‘I reckon not,’ she whispered, but the tension was gone. He’d won, he thought. She was looking at him the way she’d looked at him all those years ago. As if he was just Andreas. Just a boy.

A boy to his girl. A man to his woman.

A bride to his groom.

‘With this ring I thee wed…’

He slipped the band of gold on her finger and she looked down at it and then looked at the man facing her. Andreas.

She’d dreamed of this moment. It had always been a girl’s romantic longing. Her Cinderella moment. Marrying her prince. And here she was, doing it for real.

Yet it was all fake. She was doing it for the sake of his country. The marriage would end and she’d go on as before.

Not as before. She stared at the wedding band, at Andreas’s strong fingers as he settled it in place, and then she looked up into his face.

Her husband.

She meant these vows.

Okay, this marriage might only last a few weeks but it was all she had. She’d waited for ten long years and here she was, hesitating, acting like a wilting violet. Making him talk her down the aisle. Responding to his vows with whispers.

She was no timid virgin and this was her husband. If she only had weeks…she’d go back to Munwannay and these memories would have to last for the rest of her life.

This had all been one-sided. She’d submitted to everything.

On the middle finger of her right hand she wore her father’s ring. It was a rough-cast band of gold that had been wrought from gold found on Munwannay. The seam had never amounted to anything but she could still remember the excitement when it had been found.

‘We’ll be rich,’ her father had exulted, swinging her round and round the kitchen in dizzy excitement. ‘I’ll be able to give you and your mother everything you want.’

He’d had two rings cast-wedding rings to cement the future. Heaven knew what her mother had done with hers-probably cast it away with the marriage-but her father had worn his until he died.

And now…

The priest was about to go on, assuming there was one ring only. But before he could do so, she’d tugged it off and handed it over.

‘Bless this,’ she whispered. ‘And then wear it, Andreas.’

She’d caught him by surprise. He’d never worn a wedding ring-there was no indent around his ring finger to say he’d worn a ring during his marriage to Christina.

For a moment she thought he’d refuse. She met his gaze, steadily, her look a challenge. Come on, this is under my terms as well.

His lips quirked into a glimmer of a smile.

‘Well, then,’ the priest said and there was a faint trace of relief in his voice. He took Holly’s ring and blessed it.

‘With this ring I thee wed.’

And then there was the party.

At what point had she stopped being the wilting bride? Andreas moved among the wedding guests and his gaze kept turning to his bride, over and over again.

She was talking and laughing and moving among the guests as if she were born to the occasion. Munwannay had always been a social hub and she’d been bred to society. He knew that, but he hadn’t expected this. The guest list meant that he had to do the expected. There were so many people who’d be offended if he slighted them today. So he couldn’t hold her tight to him; he had to work the crowd alone. He’d warned his family to look out for her; to protect her as much as they could, but it seemed Holly needed no protection.

She spoke his language almost perfectly. Her fluency stunned him. Yes, she’d learned it as a kid, as a shared intimacy with him, but that she’d kept it up…

She joked, she laughed, she seemed genuinely interested in those around her. She was working the crowd as much as he was.

Their people loved her. The crazy, intimate scene in the church had disarmed everyone who saw it and now she was taking full advantage of the good humour she’d engendered.

He saw Sebastian watching her from the sidelines and saw his brother’s dark eyes crease in admiration. And something else.

He’d been talking to a politician, an officious little man who was congratulating him on his choice of wife. ‘We were so concerned. Another scandal would have undone us all, yet you’ve turned the thing around.’

But when he saw Sebastian watching his bride, it was Andreas who turned around, apologizing brusquely and heading through the crowd to Holly’s side. It was the way Sebastian had looked at her. She was an innocent.

No. She was his wife.

The knowledge was like a blast of light through fog, an unbelievable fact that would disappear any moment. But for now…

‘Holly,’ he said and slipped his arm round her waist in a gesture that was entirely proprietary.

‘Hi,’ she said and snuggled up against him in a gesture that was entirely unroyal. ‘Having fun?’

‘I don’t do fun,’ he said without thinking, and she frowned.

‘What, never?’

‘This is work.’

‘No, but there are some really nice people here.’ She sighed. ‘I’m doing all my talking for the next fifty years. I’ll remember this back at Munwannay. What are we drinking?’

He looked at the glass she was holding-golden bubbles. ‘French champagne.’

‘I like it,’ she said. ‘I think I need more.’

‘Right now?’

‘Maybe not. A tipsy bride is not a good look. Do you think I can sneak away and check on Deefer?’

‘He’s in very good hands.’

‘Yes, but they’re not my hands. How long do wedding receptions last?’

‘Until the bride and groom leave.’

She brightened. ‘Hey, that’s us, right? So can we leave?’

Tia was suddenly there. His mother. She’d kept things under control since her husband died. If it weren’t for Tia…well, maybe the monarchy would have disintegrated long since, he thought. She was always where she was needed. Now she touched her son on his shoulder.

‘The older people need to leave. So, therefore, do you.’

‘That’s just what Holly’s been saying.’

‘She’s a wise child.’ Tia smiled her approval at Holly. ‘You’ve done very well, dear.’

Holly flushed. ‘I…thank you…’

‘For a captive bride,’ Andreas said without thinking, and he saw the flash of surprise that said she’d forgotten. For the moment.

But she suppressed it. The twinkle appeared again. ‘He gave me a dog,’ she told Tia, as if that explained everything.

‘He always was a kind boy,’ Tia said.

‘Kind, huh?’ Holly said, and gave him a look that almost had him blushing.

But Tia was into organizational mode. She wasn’t looking for nuances. ‘You know the people who need to be formally farewelled,’ she told Andreas. ‘The two of you do the rounds. Quickly though, or it’ll be said we slighted someone.’

‘We can’t split up and do ’em faster?’ Holly asked.

‘You don’t know who…’

‘I’m figuring it out,’ Holly said. ‘I’ve been watching. My mother brought me up on social nuances. I’m thinking I could point to every person here who’s likely to take offence. But you’re right, of course, I can’t be depended on and I really need to see my dog. Okay, my husband. Let’s get this lot farewelled so we can get on with our lives.’

It felt like an order. He felt…bossed. Holly moved through the dignitaries like a professional. As he steered her from person to person she greeted them with her hands outstretched, a royal bride receiving the attention she deserved.

She could do this, he thought with a shock. He glanced aside at his mother and saw her watching Holly and thought it wasn’t just him and his pride in her. She could be royal.

There was another shock, a smack in the solar plexus that went right along with the strange feel of the ring on his finger. If he’d married her ten years ago…

Right, as if that could have happened. When his father had been alive-no way. But now…He glanced further across the crowded reception room and there was Sebastian, still watching her. Smiling.

Royal approval, or simply Sebastian’s habitual reaction to a beautiful woman?

But if Sebastian approved…What had happened in the church today had changed things. Holly had become a real person to the country-a real princess?

Could they have a real marriage?

The thought was mind-blasting. It made his arm tighten on Holly’s waist so she looked up at him enquiringly. ‘Andreas?’

‘It’s time we went,’ he managed.

‘Yes, dear,’ she said and they were such a domestic couple of words that they made him blink. Then she smiled and the heat in his body kept right on building.

They had to go. He had to take her…away.

His wife.