A Royal Wedding

by Trish Morey / Caitlin Crews / Nina Harrington / Raye Morgan

  He couldn’t help it. He laughed aloud. And after a moment she laughed along with him.

  “You see how impossible it is?” she challenged him.

  He shook his head. “I’ll talk to him,” he promised. “He’s young. He’ll change.”

  “Really? Can I get that in writing?”

  He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. She knew in his mind she was already as good as married to Alphie. She was going to have to begin making plans again.

  She looked at him, and it was suddenly as though the sun had broken through the clouds. She understood something about him she hadn’t realized before. His first allegiance was to his country. He could never be like her, ready to throw it all away and dash for the border. He loved his country, he lived for his country, and he would never do anything to harm it. To him, royalty was the life’s blood of this land. Though on the surface one would think of him as a philandering playboy, the Andre inside wasn’t that way at all. He was good, responsible and true—a man you could depend on. And she loved him all the more for it.

  She didn’t want to marry Alphonso. She hated the thought of it. But how was she going to be able to convince a man like this to let her out of her commitment? It wasn’t going to happen.

  The day blended seamlessly into evening. There was a cold snap in the air, and Andre built a fire in the fireplace while she prepared dinner out of canned supplies she found in the kitchen. After eating, they sat on the couch in front of the fire, each with a glass of wine, and talked softly.

  “Okay, Julienne,” he said grudgingly. “I have to admit it. You are a very good cook. Everything you make has some sort of special quality that raises it above normal cooking. You’ve got talent.”

  She smiled. She already knew that, but to have him notice made it so much more important.

  “But as a princess of the realm,” he said, “I don’t know how you ever thought you could get away with going to pastry school somewhere.”

  She nodded. “I’ve thought about it long and hard,” she told him. “And looked into resources. And from what I’ve managed to learn, I think the best thing would be to start a national culinary institute right here in Gemania.” She shrugged. “If I actually had the power, I would bring the instructors to me.”

  He nodded. “Have you spoken to Alphonso about it?” he asked.

  She stared at him, color draining from her face. Didn’t he understand? Alphonso was not going to be a part of her life. It just couldn’t happen. What he thought had nothing to do with her future. But there was no point in arguing about that. She didn’t want to ruin their last evening together.

  A bit later she watched him staring moodily into the flame and knew she was the source of his problems. She had a strong impulse to go over and take his hand, smile up at him and tell him, It’s all right. I’ll do it. Anything that will make you smile again.

  But she would be lying, because it was something that she really couldn’t do.

  She realized now she’d had a dream in her head when she’d come looking for him. She’d thought he would look up and see her and electricity would zap between them and he would realize she really was the only one for him. She’d even gone so far as to fantasize him saying, If I can’t have you, no one can, and then they would come together for a passionate kiss, then run off to the South Seas to live on a tropical island under assumed names. It sounded good to her. Obviously he didn’t agree.

  Turning toward him, she pulled her legs up under her and leaned back against the pillows.

  “Do you remember when you kissed me?” she asked him.

  He raised one dark eyebrow. “Do you mean last night?”

  “No, not that time. At my eighteenth birthday party. The last dance.”

  She held her breath, watching his reaction. Did he remember? Or was it so normal for him to kiss a woman he was dancing with that the kiss she held as so special was just one of many in his mind.

  He turned toward her slowly, and then he nodded, his eyes dark in the firelight. “I remember,” he said softly.

  She laughed with relief. “I’ve lived off of that kiss for three years.”

  Frowning, he turned away and stared into the fire. “Well, you shouldn’t have. That was the catalyst, the reason I had to stay away from you.”

  “Because of a kiss?”

  He glanced back at her. “Because of an emotion. I knew if I was near you….” He turned away and shook his head. “Well, I think you know what would have happened.”

  “Do I?” she said softly. “What was it? Tell me.”

  He raked a hand through his thick hair, making it stand on end, and looked at her from under lowered brows.

  “I don’t know why you want to know all this. I don’t know what it helps. But I’ll be honest. I was falling in love with you. And I couldn’t let that happen.”

  She was trembling, but not in fear. In sweet anticipation.

  “Why not?”

  “The treaty.” He set down his wine glass and stared into her eyes. “The treaty is fundamental to peace in this country. We can’t let anything ruin that.”

  The country. Yes, of course that was important. But for once couldn’t he just look at her and let the feelings between them work? Did he always have to let the country get in the way?

  “So … do you love me now?” she asked him.

  He took a long time to answer. “It’s not fair to ask me that.”

  She drew her breath in. “I take that as an affirmative.”

  “Take it any way you like. It doesn’t change anything.”

  “Oh, yes it does.” Reaching out, she took his hands in hers and gazed up earnestly into his eyes. “Andre, tell me true. Would you marry me if you could?”

  She expected him to react badly, to pull away, to claim such a thing had never entered his mind, but to her surprise he didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he looked back at her and said quietly, “I don’t know. I never expect to marry anyone.”

  Her hands gripped his tightly. “Find a way,” she begged him. “Oh, please, Andre. Find a way.”

  He didn’t promise to do that, but he did lean toward her. This time his kiss was sweet and simple. She closed her eyes and delighted in it, until he finally pulled away. And then she sighed and snuggled down into the pillows.

  “I love you, Andre,” she said softly, not even looking at him. “I love you with all my heart.”

  He didn’t answer, and when she finally looked up he was gone. Tears filled her eyes, but she smiled through them. He did love her and she knew it. Now what on earth were they going to do about it?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “ANDRE, look!” Julienne cried as they turned up the long, sloping driveway to the castle. “It looks like just about everyone is here already.”

  The extended parking lot was filled with limousines, and servants were trundling trunks and clothing racks to and fro.

  Andre pulled the Harley up to the entry colonnade. “It’s not surprising,” he said. “The wedding is only a few days away. And royals like to party at things like this for days at a time.”

  She sighed. “I was hoping we’d have some time …” Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip. Time for what? She still couldn’t put it into words. “I don’t know. I can’t face all these people. What am I going to say to them?”

  “You’ll be fine, Princess,” he told her, chucking her under her chin. “You’ll think of something.”

  A sort of despair surged over her. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be in Paris by now, checking out pastry schools.

  “Andre, I only came back with you because you said …” She shook her head. Had he really said anything she could cling to? “What I mean is, I’m counting on you to come through for me this time. Don’t leave me waiting at the door with no hope. Don’t do that to me again.”

  He looked at her. A part of him was astonished. What did she expect of him? What could he do to change things? He’d never promised
to release her from the treaty. He didn’t have the power to do that.

  And yet, looking deep into her eyes, he knew exactly what she expected. Would he be able to come through for her?

  They went into the castle and the bustle was even worse inside. As they walked through the courtyard toward the dining room, where a late brunch was being served, she saw Alphonso at the other side of the fountain. She stuck her elbow in Prince Andre’s ribs.

  “There he is,” she whispered loudly. “It’s Alphie.”

  Andre craned his neck and shook his head. “I really don’t see the resemblance myself,” he told her.

  She frowned. “What resemblance?”

  He met her gaze sideways. “To a baby seal.”

  She laughed. “You haven’t kissed him,” she murmured as they entered the dining room.

  “And I don’t think I ever will.”

  She smiled. “Lucky you.”

  He smiled back and knew, suddenly, that he had to find a way to have her for his own. She seemed to be having similar thoughts.

  “Andre, listen to me,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him into a private area off the courtyard. “I’m not sure why I came back with you, because I won’t marry Alphie. Don’t think you’ll talk me into it. I say no. I understand that you’re prepared to do anything for your country. That’s who you are. And I’m prepared to do a lot. But I won’t do that. There has to be another way to satisfy the country—and especially the Rubiats.”

  She stared up at him with huge eyes.

  “It’s up to you to figure out what can be done,” she warned him.

  He covered her hand with his own. “And you’re not involved?” he asked, a smile twisting his wide mouth.

  “I don’t have the experience and I don’t know the ways of diplomacy. You’ve been doing it for years. Teach me, and I’ll join in. I’m willing to do anything you tell me to do, short of marrying Alphie.”

  He stroked her lips with his forefinger and turned away. “Believe me, Julienne, I’m working on it. Just give me some time. I’ll think of something.”

  In fact, an idea was beginning to take form in his head that might have even more advantages than appeared at first glance. He’d wanted to get out of the pretend-playboy business for quite some time. Though he’d actually left it long ago in spirit, the image remained strong. He was ready to lose that, too. Could this be a blessing in disguise?

  He worked on his idea for the rest of the day. He met with Alphonso, getting to know him a bit better, and made Julienne be friendly to him. Strangely enough, the feeling he got from the younger man was out of step with what he would expect from a happy groom. He didn’t seem much happier about the prospect of marrying Julienne than she did about marrying him.

  “Alphonso seems out of sorts, doesn’t he?” he mentioned to her that evening.

  “Well, yes. Understandable, under the circumstances.”

  He nodded. “Perhaps he needs a little distraction. I think I’ll take him down to the casino and put him up in my suite for a day or two. Would you mind?”

  “Mind?” She made a face. “How about a slow boat to China? Or a trip to the moon? Or …”

  He grinned at her. “I get the picture. You have no objection.”

  Of course she had an objection. If he took Alphonso off somewhere, that meant he would be gone as well. And right now she wanted to savor every moment with him she could muster. But she could see that he had a purpose in mind, and she only hoped it would develop into something that would help their situation.

  So the two men left for the casino and she stayed where she was, enduring rehearsals and dress fittings and meetings with older royals who needed to be shown respect. And before she knew it the wedding day was dawning, bright and clear.

  And she was in a panic. She hadn’t heard from Andre. She’d expected to see him back before now. And Alphonso … Where was he? What were the two of them up to? She had no way of knowing, and the hour of the ceremony was drawing closer all the time.

  What was she to do? She was on a conveyor belt toward matrimony and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to jump off in time to save herself. Her only hope was that Alphonso would have cold feet. If he didn’t show up she would have a chance at stopping everything in its tracks and making her escape.

  She went through all the preparations, feeling like a robot. Cousins and aunts and nieces all gathered round, chattering happily and helping her get ready for the biggest day of her life. She listened and answered and laughed along with them, but her mind was with Andre.

  Where are you? was the refrain that kept screaming in her head. What are you doing? What have you done with Alphonso?

  She didn’t understand why no one thought it strange that the groom—and the Crown Prince—were missing.

  “Oh, they’ll show up,” people kept telling her. “You know Prince Andre. He always has something unusual up his sleeve.”

  That was all well and good, but she would feel much better about it if she had some idea of what his unusual trick was going to be this time. Here she was, watching the driveway for Andre again, just as she’d been doing for the last three years every time there was a gathering of the clan. It gave her a very sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “It’s time, Your Highness.”

  It was time. She was standing in the prep room in a beautiful satin and lace gown, with flowers and seed pearls and everything else one would expect—and the groom hadn’t shown up. But it was time.

  A wedding march began to swell through the ancient halls. She walked out into the foyer where King Harold was waiting, stepping very carefully. The King smiled at her and said, “Quite a situation, quite a day. I’m sure you’ll both be very happy.” She smiled back at him, assuming he was just talking pleasantries.

  Meanwhile, she was shaking like a leaf and afraid she might faint. Her only hope was that there would be no one waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Then she could turn to the crowd and shrug and say, Oh, well! I guess we can’t have a wedding today.

  But what would she do if Alphonso was waiting there? She needed an escape plan and she needed it fast.

  There were too many people standing and waving and oohing as they passed. She couldn’t see clearly toward the altar. If he was there, she would run for it. What would all these people think when they saw the bride racing for the exit? Would anyone try to stop her?

  She had Popov waiting at the side entrance, just in case. He didn’t know that she would be asking him to drive her all the way to the border. He no doubt thought it would be back to the convent. Would he rebel when she told him? She would have to deal with that when she came to it. Right now, her only goal was to make sure she and Alphonso never actually exchanged vows.

  The crowd seemed awfully noisy. Weddings were usually quieter affairs, with the music and the minister making all the noise that needed to be made. But right now people were laughing and calling out to each other as though it were a sports event. She looked around, puzzled. What was going on?

  There was someone waiting at the bottom of the long walk, waiting to marry her, but she couldn’t see clearly. Was it Alphonso? Or someone who was going to call the whole thing off? Her mind was abuzz with too much sound and color. She couldn’t think straight.

  And then she came around the last bend and there was her groom, standing there for all the world to see. And now she saw why the room was in chaos and commotion.

  She gasped, broke away from King Harold, and dashed forward, reaching out and throwing her arms around her husband to be—Prince Andre.

  “What—? How—?” she babbled as she held him close, half laughing, half crying with relief.

  He leaned down, smiling with all the love in the world in his eyes. The crowd was laughing and applauding, giving him cover to whisper in her ear.

  “I’ve fixed everything,” he told her. “I’ve announced that your engagement to Alphonso was a ruse to pave the way for your wedding to me. Alphonso is
happily ensconced at the casino, taking my place there. My father and all the other princes have signed off on the changes. We’re free to have a life together.”

  Free.

  That was all she’d ever wanted.

  Well, that and the most handsome prince in the land. Just those two things.

  Electric with happiness, she joined him at the altar and waited for the ceremony to begin.

  “I do,” she said at the appropriate time, loud and clear. “Oh, yes, I do!”

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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  Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  A ROYAL WEDDING © Harlequin Enterprises II B.V./S.à.r.l 2011

  The Storm Within © Trish Morey 2011

  The Reluctant Queen © Caitlin Crews 2011