Royal Marriage Of Convenience

by Marion Lennox

  He’d dated many women-of course he had-but the step toward commitment had always seemed insurmountable. But this…

  ‘You’re only committing for a month, right?’ Blake asked.

  ‘The general idea is that we stay married for as long as we need to. Minimum a month. Once Rose is firmly entrenched, there’s no need for me to stay.’

  ‘But the thought of helping get the country on its feet again turns you on?’

  ‘It does, yeah,’ he admitted.

  ‘And the thought of being married to Rose?’

  He grinned and didn’t answer. But the bubble of excitement was becoming a tidal wave. This was a challenge. It was potentially beneficial for a whole country. And he’d be marrying Rose. If it worked out…

  See, there was the scary bit. For some dumb reason, that was the thing that gave him pause. The way he felt about her.

  She was gorgeous. Her smile made him gasp. She felt…

  She didn’t feel anything. What had she said? ‘The last thing I want is more attachments. I’ve done family for life. I am free’.

  That should make him feel better about the whole deal. Instead, it only made him feel more uncertain.

  The thought of taking on a country’s direction didn’t worry him. The thought of marrying Rose did. Or, it didn’t worry him as much as unsettle him. It made him feel like he was teetering on the edge of something he didn’t understand.

  But Blake didn’t see that. No one did. He himself decided it was dumb, and as a week passed without seeing Rose he thought, okay, he was being a romantic fool. This was hardly a romantic wedding. It seemed more like a military operation, and he had to treat it as such.

  Erhard was on the phone constantly, organising every tiny detail-when they’d arrive, when the wedding would take place, accommodation, transport, meetings with the council to take place as soon as the wedding was over, the ascendancy claim. The legal documents Erhard faxed for signature made even Nick’s eyes water.

  What was Rose thinking? But he couldn’t know.

  ‘I have a mountain of organisation to get through before I leave,’ she’d told him in their one brief phone-call. ‘I’m dealing with mass hysteria here. You sort the legal stuff. I know it’s dumb, but I’ll sign whatever needs to be signed. I have to trust you on this, Nick. You and Erhard.’

  A later phone call elicited a bit more background. Instead of Rose, his call was answered by her mother-in-law.

  ‘You have no right to do this,’ the woman hissed down the phone. ‘The whole town depends on her. She’s saying the district will have to join the vet co-operative in the next town. She says with the money they pay we’ll be well off, but we don’t want money. My poor son would turn in his grave. How dare that man tell her she has no choice? How dare…?’

  She became almost venomous, and in the end Nick had put down the phone, and thought he could understand another of Rose’s conditions. She didn’t want any press release until she was out of the country.

  Erhard agreed with that reluctantly, but Nick thought that was fine. The juggernaut that was royal ascension rolled on.

  Then, in the last few days before he and Rose were due to fly out, Nick’s contact with Erhard had faltered. There was one stilted phone-call. ‘Nikolai, things are in place for you to take over. I need to fade into the background. Good luck to you and to Rose.’

  He didn’t explain, but by the sound of his voice Nick thought that his health was probably a factor. Erhard had launched them, and was depending on them to take it from here.

  Good luck to you and to Rose.

  That caused another of those moments when panic seemed to overwhelm him. But there was no reason for panic. No logical reason.

  A royal marriage of convenience. Why not?

  So he went on planning for this strange wedding, and the world didn’t crash on his head.

  But on that last day, when he walked out of his office before taking a month off, and he found the whole of the office decorated with bridal nonsense, he was forced to see this for the reality it was. It was Saturday. The office should have been deserted, but people had obviously come in especially. Obviously Blake and the partners had decided that today they’d break their silence. Champagne was flowing. The girls from the typing pool were handing round wedding-cake. Blake had found a picture of Rose in a local newspaper’s weddings column, detailing Rose’s wedding to Max years ago. Someone had blown her image up to banner size. Posters of a grainy, bridal Rose were plastered from one end of the office to another.

  ‘She’s gorgeous,’ everyone agreed, and even Rose, laughing down from every wall, seemed to concur.

  Rose’s image unsettled him as nothing else could. This was a Rose without the care lines around her eyes. Rose before…life?

  It felt weird that he could think of marrying this woman, he decided, trying to smile as he accepted congratulations. It even seemed dangerous. But he’d gone too far to back out now, and finally he escaped, under a shower of confetti and good-natured banter.

  ‘There goes the groom to collect his bride. Or the prince to collect his princess,’ they called after him, and he had to smile and concur.

  ‘You’ll be the second of Ruby’s foster sons to get leg-shackled,’ Blake said as he walked with his foster brother to the firm’s car-park. He and Blake had gone through a lot together. They’d come from similar dysfunctional backgrounds, ending up under Ruby’s care. They’d both been ambitious, and they’d made it through law school together. Nick had started work with this firm first, and Blake had followed the year after. They were about as close as brothers could be, which gave Blake the right to say what he liked. Which he intended to do right now.

  ‘You’re not looking happy,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Bridal jitters getting to you?’

  ‘You know this isn’t a real wedding,’ Nick growled, unnerved, but Blake smiled and shrugged.

  ‘You make the vows. It’s all the wedding the likes of us can do. What have you told Ruby?’

  ‘That I’ve agreed to be married for a month in order for Rose to ascend the throne. That it’s business only. That she needn’t worry about anything, and I’ll come over and pay her a visit when it’s all over.

  ‘And she said?’ Blake said cautiously.

  ‘She…um…sounded a little irate. I thought she might have phoned you.’

  ‘When did you tell her?’

  ‘This morning.’

  ‘You have to be kidding.’ He and Blake were pushing their way through a crowd of photographers on the pavement. The press had arrived seemingly out of nowhere. Someone must have told them what was happening, and they were now documenting every step. ‘She’ll probably have tried to phone me twenty times already.’

  ‘Just assure her it’s business,’ Nick said. ‘She shouldn’t worry about it. It’s nothing.’

  ‘Nothing.’ Blake stopped dead, his face a picture of incredulity. ‘You want me to explain to Ruby you’re marrying a princess but it’s nothing? I’d be lucky to get off with burst eardrums.’

  ‘Then don’t. Ruby’s agreed to do some babysitting for Pierce and his brood for a couple of weeks, so she won’t have time to think about it.’

  ‘They do have news services in Dolphin Bay,’ Blake said with asperity. ‘Australia’s not so far away as you’d think when it comes to royal weddings. I seem to remember they even have newspapers. You’re inviting guests to this wedding?’

  ‘Only dignitaries. You can tell Ruby that.’ He gave a rueful grin. ‘I tried, but she wouldn’t stop yelling.’

  ‘You’re seriously getting married without involving family?’

  ‘I don’t do family. You know that.’

  ‘Yeah, but does Ruby? She’ll be over here like a flash, taking Rose into the bosom of our peculiar family, finding out her sweater size, making a macramé spread for the marital bed, maybe even starting on a few booties.’

  ‘See, that’s what we don’t want,’ Nick said bluntly. ‘If I let Ruby near Rose, Rose
would run like a scalded cat. This is business.’

  ‘A marriage made in heaven,’ Blake said wryly.

  ‘It’s the only sort Rose will consider,’ Nick told him, and didn’t notice when Blake gave him an odd look. They’d reached his car now. The photographers were still at it. Somehow they had to be ignored.

  Problems needed to be ignored. Meanwhile he gripped his brother’s hand in a gesture of farewell. ‘Thanks, mate,’ he told him. ‘Keep my place here warm for me.’

  ‘You might not still want it,’ Blake said, still looking at him strangely.

  ‘Of course I will. This marriage is for a matter of weeks. That’s all it’s for. I’ll be back.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Blake said and shook his hand back. ‘Right. Just you be careful boyo, of marital threads as well as political ones.’

  So what was the problem? Why did Blake sound dubious?

  And where had those photographers come from? Surely they wouldn’t spread this news as far as Ruby in Dolphin Bay?

  Maybe he should have given Ruby a few more details. Maybe even invited her to the wedding.

  But Ruby at his wedding? She’d sob, he thought. She’d hug them both. She’d make it incredibly, intensely personal.

  Which would scare Rose.

  And him.

  In the comparative privacy of his BMW, heading for his Kensington apartment to collect his baggage, Nick had time to think, and the more he thought the more he felt like he was heading into trouble. To hurt Ruby by not inviting her…

  He couldn’t invite her. And he’d specified it was just business.

  But it had his foot easing from the accelerator, thinking maybe even now it wasn’t too late to draw back.

  His mobile phone rang. It answered automatically on the hands-free base. If it hadn’t, maybe he wouldn’t have answered. His need for solitude to get his head right was starting to be overwhelming. But the voice came on the other end of the line before he could prevent the connection. ‘Nick?’

  ‘Rose.’ She sounded as spooked as he was. ‘It’s good to hear from you,’ he managed.

  ‘There are photographers here,’ she said. ‘Everywhere. They arrived an hour ago and there’s more arriving by the minute. My mother-in-law’s weeping so hard she’s making herself ill. The phone’s ringing off the hook. I think…is this a disaster?’

  So he wasn’t alone in feeling overwhelmed. ‘I guess it’s what we had to expect,’ he said cautiously, insensibly reassured that she was feeling the same as he was.

  ‘I hadn’t thought…’

  ‘Neither had I.’

  ‘It’s not too late to back out,’ she whispered.

  ‘Do you want to back out?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It seemed so easy when it was just fantasy. But now…’

  ‘What would you do if you backed out?’ he asked.

  There was a long silence. ‘Stay here, I guess,’ she said, sounding unsure.

  ‘You don’t want to stay there?’

  ‘No.’ That was unequivocal, at any rate. Then, ‘We did decide to do this for the right reasons, didn’t we, Nick?’

  He had to be honest here. ‘Yes.’

  ‘It will make life better for the people of Alp de Montez?’

  ‘I think so,’ he said reluctantly. ‘My law firm is heavily geared to international disputes. We have people on the ground all over the world. The consensus is that we really can make a difference.’

  ‘We don’t have a choice then,’ she said heavily.

  ‘There is a choice, Rose,’ he said. He’d pulled up at traffic lights. They’d turned green, but he wasn’t shifting. There were horns blaring behind him but he thought, no, he had to concentrate. ‘You can walk away.’

  ‘I can’t walk away,’ she said. ‘Unless I have an alternative.’

  ‘You can stay where you are.’

  ‘That’s what I meant,’ she whispered. ‘Alp de Montez is my alternative.’

  He didn’t understand. ‘Look, we can call the whole thing off.’

  ‘Do you want to?’

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ he told her, and moved forward before the motorists banked up behind him got out of their cars and thumped him. He steered into a bus stop and stopped. ‘Rose, this is up to you,’ he said gently. ‘You’re the one first in line. I’m the supporting role here.’

  ‘I guess.’ She took a ragged breath. ‘But you will support me?’

  Five minutes ago he’d been thinking he couldn’t. But now…It was only for a month or so, and it would make a difference. Rose was taking this on for much, much longer.

  If she was prepared to do it, how could he say no?

  ‘Of course I’ll support you,’ he said gently. ‘We’re in this together.’

  ‘For a month.’

  ‘And then I’ll be on the end of the phone. I won’t leave you isolated. We’ll set up supports.’

  ‘But you’ll stay involved?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Yes.’ Where had that come from? The Nikolai de Montez mantra was ‘never get involved’. But this was different. This was for a country.

  This was for Rose.

  ‘Yes,’ he said again. ‘I’ll stay as involved as you want.’

  ‘Then I guess I can cope with the press,’ she said, still sounding shaky. ‘The plane’s due to pick me up in Newcastle at two. You swear you’ll be on it?’

  What was a man to say to that? Despite misgivings. Despite Ruby.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and he was committed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  T HE plane was fitted out like something out of a James Bond movie. Nikolai was accustomed to first-class international travel, but this was mind boggling.

  He couldn’t cut and run now, leaving Rose to face the consequences, but he felt like it. He buckled his seat belt with grim resolution. Let’s get this over with.

  For the first part of the flight he was alone, apart from a dark-suited, elderly attendant who spoke in monosyllables. Somewhere up front there’d be a flight crew, but he never saw them. Erhard had made the arrangements. He just had to trust Erhard. Only, why hadn’t Erhard answered his calls for the last few days? How sick was he?

  What was Nick walking into?

  Rose was due to catch the flight in Newcastle. He’d committed. To marriage.

  Yes, to marriage, and it seemed weird. He sank into the luxurious upholstery and let his thoughts go where they willed. They asked questions he couldn’t answer. Things like, would Rose get cold feet? What if Erhard’s illness wasn’t the reason for his withdrawal? How alone would they be?

  It wasn’t an uncivilised country they were going to, he told himself, his unease deepening with every mile they drew further from London. The worst that could happen was that he and Rose were asked to leave. Or refused permission to land.

  The plane was in the air. His escape was cut off. Next step Rose.

  ‘Would you like refreshments? A beer?’ an expressionless fight attendant-Griswold, according to his name badge-asked him, and Nick shook his head.

  ‘No, thank you.’ He didn’t need a beer. He needed to keep every faculty crystal-clear.

  The attendant, a sober-suited man in his sixties, gave him a searching look. Nick smiled; the man seemed anxious and the last thing Nick wanted to do was make the locals nervous. But Griswold simply bowed briefly and left him alone.

  And then they were landing at Newcastle. Griswold appeared again and told him there was no need for him to stir. ‘The Princess Rose-Anitra is in the terminal,’ he told him. ‘It’s raining outside. I’d advise you to stay put.’

  The Princess Rose-Anitra. The name took him aback.

  The Princess Rose-Anitra, boarding the official plane of the royal family of Alp de Montez. To join her future husband.

  The fantasy had begun.

  And here came the bride. Right-not. This wasn’t your normal vision of a royal bride. Rose was running across the rain-soaked tarmac. An airport official was holding an umbrella over her hea
d, trying to keep up with her. She was dressed in jeans and an ancient duffel coat. She was carrying a shabby holdall.

  She was also carrying a dog. Some sort of terrier.

  His feeling of unreality took a step back. Rose grounded this thing in practicality, he thought, and the craziness seemed possible again as he watched her run.

  Seemingly ignoring the rain, she smiled at Griswold at the foot of the stairs, and Nick found himself smiling back. This wasn’t fantasy. Rose was a country veterinarian with a scruffy looking dog and clothes past their use-by date.

  She just looked like…Rose.

  She stepped into the cabin, laughing at something Griswold said behind her, speaking in a language Nick recognised.

  She saw him and she stopped short. Her smile faded, and she looked suddenly uncertain. Maybe even a little scared.

  ‘Um…Hi,’ she said.

  ‘Hi.’ As a response to the occasion it lacked a certain sophistication, but for the life of him he couldn’t think of a more intelligent response.

  ‘You don’t mind sharing a cabin with Hoppy?’ she asked.

  ‘Hoppy?’

  ‘Because of the leg,’ she said kindly, as if he was a bit thick. She smiled down at the little dog in her arms and then checked out the plane. She seemed almost overwhelmed by its opulence, swallowing a couple of times like she was trying to dredge up courage. But somehow she made her voice light and smiley. ‘Wow,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve hardly ever flown before. Surely they can’t all be like this?’

  ‘No,’ Nick said. They certainly weren’t. The two double settees that were the airline’s only passenger seats were more luxurious than any seat he’d ever been in. They were fitted with seat belts, but that was their only concession to airline strictures. There was white shag-pile carpet. There were tiny side-tables with indents to hold wine glasses-all carved from the one magnificent piece of mahogany. A partition at the rear led to a bedroom-he could see a magnificent bed set up, ready for use. The entire interior was painted white with muted pinks, with soft hangings disguising the harsh outer casing of the airline’s metal cabin.