Yes, the thing was ridiculous, and finally she decided okay, if it was ridiculous she’d simply treat it as a joke gone wrong. She’d close her eyes and get it over with.
And here she was. Her wedding day.
She was about to enter the cathedral where Alexandros had taken his vows two months before. The last time she’d entered this cathedral, she’d slipped in at the rear, wanting to remain anonymous.
Now…Every man and woman was on their feet, waiting for her entrance, and Alex was standing at the altar. The Archbishop was in front and central. Waiting for her.
She was ready to walk down the aisle. Alone.
‘Have Spiros give you away,’ Alex had told her. ‘You can’t do this by yourself. Stefanos and Nikos will attend me. You need bridesmaids. At least have Spiros.’
‘I need no one,’ she’d said. ‘I don’t see why we can’t do this in a government office.’
‘It needs to be done with all the pomp and splendour we can muster,’ he’d told her. ‘The islanders need reassurance that this is real—no one should disbelieve that you’re my wife.’
‘I’m not your wife.’
‘You are,’ he’d said gravely. ‘You’ve agreed.’
‘Until you have the island stable. No more.’
‘Then for the time we have I’ll do you honour.’ In a different tone this might have been a lovely thing to say but it was said in the tone of a man who knew where his duty lay. ‘As the country will do you honour and as you’ll do yourself honour. It’s meant as a reassurance to the country that we can move forward. There’ll be nothing secret or covert about it. You’ll wear full royal regalia, as will I.’
This final decree had left her almost speechless. ‘A real royal wedding?’ She hadn’t attended Mia’s wedding—they’d been so distant by then that Mia would never have thought of inviting her—but she’d seen the media coverage and the thought of doing the same left her cold. ‘You’re telling me what I should wear?’
‘My people tell me there’s no time to make you a completely new gown but if you’ll agree…The royal wedding gowns have been amazing over the centuries, and they’ve been carefully stored and kept, every one. If we can get you here a few days before the wedding, we can get one altered. You could even wear Mia’s.’
And then he’d listened to the silence and conceded, ‘Okay, maybe not Mia’s. But there will be one that fits you. There’s no time to make you one as splendid, and this has to be done right.’
Fine. She was past arguing.
She could do it.
She’d flown here four days ago. The royal assembly line had swung into place the minute she’d arrived. She’d been shown to her own apartment within the palace—an apartment she assumed would be hers for the duration of her marriage. It was opulent to the point of crazy. They’d suggested Michales use the royal nursery and she’d knocked that on the head. There was a cot in the corner of her apartment now; as long as she had Michales she could live anywhere.
So she’d done what was expected, whatever she was told. She’d hardly seen Alexandros and then only when he’d been surrounded by palace officials, lawyers, advisors.
She’d been given her own lawyers. That had surprised her. In all the chaos she’d been given this one sliver of control. The lawyers had been engaged in her name, and they’d been competent and thorough in drawing up a pre-nuptial agreement for her protection. She had no doubt that at the end of her marriage she could walk away—with Michales and with an allowance that made her head swim.
She’d put up a feeble protest about the money but her lawyers had simply ignored it.
‘This pre-nuptial agreement may well become public and the Prince must be seen as doing the right thing by you and his son,’ she’d been told, and once again she’d subsided.
As she’d subsided in everything. At least Michales would always be well provided for.
But now…The organ blared into its triumphant wedding march. Reality was suddenly right here. She’d been pushed off the end of the royal conveyor belt and here she was, about to be married.
She wasn’t…her. She was inside some creature wearing full bridal gear, extravagant to the point of ridiculous, inside a cathedral, about to be married.
It wasn’t Lily who was doing this. It was someone else. Lily was trapped inside.
The doors swung open. At the end of the aisle…Alex.
For two weeks she’d blocked him almost completely from her mind. She was about to be married but this wasn’t about Alex. It wasn’t about either of them.
Maybe her decision to walk down the aisle on her own had been a mistake. She wouldn’t mind Spiros’s arm to lean on right now. She wouldn’t mind anything to lean on.
She needed to start walking.
Alex was waiting.
No. She told herself that sharply. It wasn’t Alex. Just as she was trapped inside someone else, the man at the end of the aisle was a stranger, some prince in his regimentals, waiting to marry a woman in a gown of shimmering beaded lace, with a glorious train trailing twenty feet behind her, with a three-tiered veil attached with a tiara, which had come straight from the royal vaults, the dresser had breathed. Worth a king’s ransom.
Her legs felt frozen.
Do this and get it over with, she told herself.
Everyone was looking at her. Everyone was waiting.
Deep breath. Do this and get on with your life.
She looked along the aisle and Alex was smiling at her.
Her prince.
No. If she thought Prince her feet wouldn’t move.
She had to get a grip on what was reality and what wasn’t. This was Alex smiling at her. The father of her child.
This wedding was a fantasy, but the fantasy had a name.
Alex.
She stepped forward and she looked directly at her waiting bridegroom. She forced herself to smile back.
She could do this.
She could be married to Alex.
He’d suggested she have Spiros give her away. But…
‘No,’ she’d told him. ‘Eleni’s taking care of Michales during the ceremony. That’s all I’ll ask of them. If I ever get married for real I want Spiros to give me away then. But not now. Not for a marriage of convenience.’
So she was alone. He hadn’t realised quite how alone until he saw the cathedral doors swing open. She was standing quite still, quite calm. She looked as determined on this course as she’d been from the moment she’d agreed to his proposal.
‘You know, this could work,’ Nikos said from beside him.
Alex was watching Lily walk steadily towards him, regal and lovely, her head held high, the magnificent gown making her look almost ethereal. He was forcing himself to smile at her as the congregation were clearly expecting him to do—but something inside him was twisting. Hurting.
‘Why the hell wouldn’t it work?’ he growled.
‘The islanders hated the idea of another Mia,’ Nikos whispered. ‘But you just need to look at Lily to see she’s not like her sister. Mia had twelve bridesmaids. Mia had so much bling you couldn’t see her for glitter. Lily’s different. Simple and lovely.’
Simple and lovely…They weren’t words Alex would have thought appropriate for a royal bride.
But they were right.
Lily was not doing this for money. His cheque remained in its pieces—or maybe it had been burned long since—and it had never been replaced. She’d even tried to refuse the allowance his lawyers had written into the pre-nuptial contracts should they ever divorce. ‘You can pay for Michales’s upbringing and nothing else,’ she’d said.
This wedding…this marriage…it seemed she was doing this for Sappheiros. She wanted nothing from it.
He didn’t believe it yet. He couldn’t. The anger and disbelief he’d held ever since he’d learned of Michales’s true parentage still simmered.
Do this and get it over with.
She’d almost reached him. He smiled and she smiled back,
but he knew her smile was as forced as his.
This wasn’t the smile he knew from a year ago. This wasn’t the Lily he’d made love to. This was a stranger, a woman coerced.
He had an almost irresistible impulse to take her hand and walk out, right there and then. Before this mock marriage could take place. Not because he didn’t want it. But because…it felt intrinsically wrong.
She’d agreed to this marriage for all the wrong reasons.
He took her hand and it was icy. Unresponsive.
She looked trapped.
She’d trapped herself by bearing his child, he thought grimly. By agreeing to Mia and Giorgos’s great lie.
Forget it, he told himself harshly. Forget the lie. Concentrate on now. Concentrate on the need to be married.
So be it.
Her smile had faded as she’d realised he’d only been smiling for the sake of their audience. He watched a fleeting shadow of something…hurt?…pass over her face.
Why should she be hurt?
This was a formal ceremony and they had to get on.
‘Why not ask Father Antonio to marry you?’ Nikos had asked, and he hadn’t answered. But he knew the answer.
When—if!—he married for real he’d be married by Father Antonio.
This was a royal marriage of convenience. Nothing more.
Lily’s hand stayed in his. They faced the Archbishop together.
‘We are gathered together to join this man and this woman…’
The formal reception was attended by every person of significance from the Diamond Isles and beyond. In the vast marquee erected in the palace grounds, on the headland overlooking Sappheiros Bay, there were speeches, speeches and more speeches.
This wasn’t the simple celebration of a wedding. This was the celebration of three nations finding independence and hope. The islanders’ joy had little to do with Lily and Alex.
Lily may have provided this outcome but the consensus among the crowd, the media and by the islanders in general, was that she’d done very well for herself. Where was the need for sympathy?
Or even…civility?
As the day wore on Alex was congratulated by islander after islander, but the eyes that watched his bride were guarded.
She was Mia’s sister, and Mia was hated. Like Mia, Lily was suspected as being a woman who’d conned her way into being a part of the royal dynasty.
Alex could do little to protect her. The slurs weren’t overt. They were subtle looks, subtle congratulations with the islanders looking only at him, refusing to meet Lily’s gaze as hands were shaken.
But, he had to admit, despite the slurs, despite the guarded looks, she was behaving…beautifully. She was a lovely bride—serene and almost breathtakingly lovely. But she was so quiet. He’d pulled her veil back from her face for the obligatory kiss-the-bride, but she hadn’t responded as he’d done so and he had the feeling that her veil was down again, metaphorically if not literally.
She hardly spoke through the formal luncheon and the formal reception. She responded civilly to those who spoke to her but her responses were muted.
He’d catch her glance straying over and over to Eleni, who was holding Michales.
She wanted her baby back and her look said she wanted more. She wanted her life back?
The civilities had to be borne—he could no sooner escape than she could. But as the afternoon stretched towards evening he decided enough. A band had started playing and a dance floor was laid across the lawns. The festivities would continue into the small hours. But…
‘You want to escape?’ he asked and saw a flare of hope, unable to be disguised.
‘Can we?’
‘This party will go on without us. I have a place on the other side of the island.’ He’d thought of this yesterday when Nikos had asked about honeymoon plans. They had to be seen as doing something—but this was no time to be away from the island.
He hadn’t wanted to take Lily to his own home but unless they stayed in the palace here there was little choice. And the thought of staying in the palace—obligatory appearance on the balcony—prince kisses bride—left him cold.
‘A place?’ she asked.
‘A house. We can be private there.’
‘What, for a honeymoon?’ It was said wryly. She’d schooled herself to do this, he thought. Maybe if he insisted on his conjugal rights she’d submit as well. To outward appearance she looked beautiful and serene and untroubled. Maybe even submissive?
Maybe submissive was the wrong word. It was definitely the wrong word if this was the Lily he’d met little more than a year ago.
But how well did he know her? Not well, but enough to guess that behind the serenity was quiet desperation.
‘We’re expected to go away for a bit. I can’t go far, but I have a house on the north end of the island.’
‘So…you and me and how many servants?’
‘Just you and me.’ Then, as he saw another fear flare, ‘And Michales,’ he added swiftly.
Her relief was immediate and obvious. ‘I can take him?’
‘Of course.’
She closed her eyes and he thought she was trying desperately to disguise what she was thinking. How fearfully out of control she felt?
It didn’t make sense. Was she afraid of him? Afraid of the royalty bit? Surely not. She was Mia’s sister.
‘We can go now?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Then what are we waiting for?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
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 bro
adly 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.
Claimed: Secret Royal Son Page 7
