Royally Wed: a Romance Duet

by Noelle Adams

  “Oh. Good.”

  I gazed at him for a long time—too long—until I realized I was acting rather silly. So I pulled myself together and went inside.

  I kept telling myself I was excited because I was finally getting out of his place—but I’ve never been very good at lying myself, and I really knew it was more than that.

  SIX HOURS LATER, I walked back into our sanctuary, carrying one shopping bag.

  Edward was immediately behind me. He was carrying three.

  He’d bought his father a small mantle clock, but everything else in the bags was mine. I’d bought myself a flowing skirt of a lovely tropical fabric, but all the rest of the purchases were gifts for my family and friends.

  We’d gone into the nearest town and eaten lunch. Then we’d shopped and ended up having tea and dessert.

  I’d had a wonderful time.

  Edward hadn’t talked a lot, but he’d seemed to be in a good mood for him. He was a good companion for a shopping trip. He never made impatient noises or eye rolls when I took too long deciding, and he took all the heavy shopping bags from me without my asking.

  I’d enjoyed the shopping and enjoyed an entirely new culture and enjoyed the natural setting and enjoyed the food.

  It had been much better than sitting around reading all afternoon.

  “Thank you,” I said as Edward put the bags down in a chair.

  He glanced over at me, blinking twice.

  “For going with me,” I explained. “And for letting me buy all this stuff.”

  “Of course.” He had a slight hint of his surprised face.

  “I just...” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to explain myself, but I felt self-conscious and a little confused. I finally concluded, “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. You can buy anything you want.” He cleared his throat. “In fact, I’m going to set you up with your own account so you don’t have to ask me all the time. You’re my wife. You’re allowed to spend money.”

  It might have been the longest speech I’d ever heard him make, and for some reason it made me blush hotly.

  This was ridiculous. I had never felt self-conscious this way. What was wrong with me?

  I cleared my throat. “Thank you. I’m not a huge spender, just so you know. I’m not going to be wasting your money.”

  “You can waste it if you want.”

  For some reason my embarrassment in combination with his curt words made me giggle.

  The corner of his mouth twitched in response.

  Feeling better about everything, I gave him a wide smile. “Anyway, thank you for this afternoon. Not just the money. I really had a good time.” I sat down on the sofa and started to pull the jewelry I’d bought for my sisters out of one of the bags, spreading the earrings, bracelets, and necklaces out on the coffee table.

  “I’m glad.” He studied my face for a minute. “You mean it, don’t you?”

  I could tell he was coming to the realization that I wasn’t just being polite. “Well, yes. Why wouldn’t I enjoy it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I did. A lot. I’ve never been on a vacation before.”

  Edward moved the bags out of the chair so he could sit down. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve never been on a vacation before.”

  “You’ve traveled.”

  “Around Europe, yes. But not for vacations. It was always for some sort of diplomatic function. I’ve never been anywhere just to... just to have fun.”

  His brows had drawn together like he didn’t understand this, like he didn’t like it.

  “I’ve wanted to go to the States to visit Amalie, but my mother never wanted me to—since she was trying to get Amalie to come back home.”

  “You’ll go there now though? Now that Amalie is more settled there?”

  I nodded. “I want to. If it works out, I mean.”

  “Of course you can go. We’ll make sure it works out.”

  He sounded matter-of-fact—not affectionate or particularly gentle—but the words were like a gift to me anyway.

  He obviously meant it. It was such a change in my life. To be able to visit my sister without going through all the rigmarole and rituals of doing such a thing in my family.

  “You can go anywhere in the world you want,” Edward added, his eyes never leaving my face. “Just tell me.”

  He meant that too.

  I tried to process the words, the reality, the fact that it was true.

  I felt strange—overwhelmed—and I put a hand on my chest in response to the sudden pressure there.

  Realizing I hadn’t responded, I managed to say, “Oh. Thank you.”

  “What is it?” Edward asked after a moment, evidently seeing some of my emotional reaction on my face.

  “It’s nothing.” Then, realizing there was no reason not to tell Edward the truth, I added, “It’s just that I’ve always felt like I’ve lived in a sort of prison. Not a bad one. I mean, I’m not complaining. It’s just that being a princess, being part of the Rothman family, comes with a lot of pressures and responsibilities. I’ve never been able to do what I want, buy what I want, come and go as I want.” I sighed, suddenly feeling guilty, like I was bad-mouthing my family. “I love my parents and sisters and brother and country. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. It’s just that sometimes it feels like a... a cage.”

  Edward didn’t respond in words, but he nodded, and I felt like he understood.

  “So it’s new to me to feel like I have any sort of freedom.”

  For a moment Edward was silent, as if he were processing the words. But then he said, “You have freedom now.”

  I gave him a rather shaky smile, wondering why I was feeling so emotional. “Thank you.” Since it felt like he knew what I was talking about, I felt brave enough to ask, “Have you felt that way? Like you were in a cage?”

  He frowned slightly—obviously thinking—before he replied, “Yes. Not in the same way, but having money like my father has brings a different kind of cage. I’ve never bought into that poor-little-rich-kid routine, but there are certain pressures and expectations that come with the kind of money my father has.”

  “I would certainly think so.”

  “There was never any question that I would go to work with my father.”

  “Is that not what you wanted?” I realized I’d fallen into the same thinking of everyone else, assuming that Edward wouldn’t do anything but work with his father.

  “I do now. But when I was younger, I wanted to...” He trailed off.

  I straightened up, very interested in whatever dreams Edward had had earlier in his life. “You wanted to what?”

  He didn’t immediately answer. Then he shrugged the question off. I knew it wasn’t his original thought when he finally said, “I wanted to do different things. I’m happy to be doing what I’m doing now, but I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.”

  “Yes.”

  “There are other kinds of pressures too,” he added after a minute. “Social pressures that come with my father’s lifestyle. Which can be hard when you’re... like me.”

  “What do you mean like you?”

  Evidently, this was one question too many. He blinked, as if he were waking up and realizing what he was saying. He gave me a small, impersonal smile. “Nothing. I don’t even know what I mean.”

  This wasn’t the truth, but we weren’t close enough for me to press him on it.

  Realizing that he would close down completely if I pushed, I instinctively changed tactics. “When did you realize you were going to join your father in business?”

  His expression relaxed slightly, so evidently this was a safe question. “I don’t know. I was fourteen or fifteen, I guess. I started interning for him during school breaks, and by then it was understood that this was what I was going to be doing.”

  “You like it now though?”

  “Yes. It was the right choice—for a lot of reasons.”<
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  “Has it always been just you and your father?”

  He gave me a quick look, but evidently my question was casual enough to not trigger warning bells of intrusiveness in his mind. “My mother died when I was six. I remember her but not very well.”

  “She was American, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  Edward spoke English with more of an American accent than a British one. Most of the time he could have passed for an American. I suddenly realized it must have been because of his mother’s nationality. I’d never even thought about it before.

  “What do you remember about her?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, and for a moment I wasn’t sure he even would. Then he said, “I remember her reading me stories. And we would paint pictures together.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. That’s what I remember most.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond, but I was strangely touched by this confession. Edward’s father was a lot like mine—focused, polite, but usually wrapped up in work. I could suddenly picture his mother as beautiful and sweet and creative—with blue eyes just like Edward’s.

  I had an irrational urge to have known her. Was actually sad that I never would.

  Just as I was about to ask another question, Edward cleared his throat and stood up. “Anyway...”

  He never finished the sentence. He just walked into his bedroom.

  I stared at the closed door, vaguely frustrated and encouraged at the same time.

  I felt like I knew him better now though, and I wanted to know even more.

  It wasn’t going to happen this afternoon, however.

  He didn’t come back out of his room, leaving me alone with all my purchases and a lot of unanswered questions.

  Three

  The next afternoon, I was reading again on the outdoor bed on the deck.

  This time Edward was beside me.

  To be entirely honest, I had originally been reading but had dozed off about an hour ago, and the doze turned into a full-fledged nap.

  When I finally woke up, I turned my head to discover Edward was still beside me, and he had fallen asleep too.

  At first he’d been reading on the chaise, but when he’d readjusted a third time, I told him he was welcome to join me on the bed. It was a huge bed, and I knew from experience it was more comfortable than the chaise.

  He’d come over without a word and stretched out beside me.

  I liked that he had. It was nice that we were comfortable enough together that we could lie on the bed together without it being strange. He would never have volunteered to join me himself. I knew that for sure. I’d never met a more reticent man. He came across as entirely confident in social situations and with his family business, so I assumed it wasn’t because he was insecure or shy. He probably just wasn’t particularly interested in getting close to me. He was polite, however, and always did as I suggested. That was a good thing.

  Having a husband who always tried to be polite to me—even if he wasn’t terribly enthusiastic—was far better than many other alternatives.

  We could make this work. I was growing more confident by the day.

  My pleased reflections transformed into something else as I gazed at Edward beside me with sleepy eyes.

  I’d never seen him sleeping before since he always went to bed in his own room. I’d never imagined him as the kind of man who might take naps. It was strange and pleasing to see him dozing now, and I felt a completely unexpected pressure of fondness in my chest as I kept looking at him.

  His features were relaxed, his dark eyelashes thick against his skin, his hair slightly ruffled, and his chest rising and falling, slowing with his breathing.

  He wasn’t wearing a shirt this afternoon because he’d taken a dip in the pool earlier. I liked the sight of his body—tight muscles, lean lines, flat abs, deliciously masculine dark hair on his chest and his legs.

  He must work out fairly regularly, although I’d never seen him do so. No man could maintain such a great body without a lot of exercise.

  My own exercise regimen consisted of long walks and periodic stops and starts in using an elliptical trainer. I hated any sort of aerobics as much as I hated lifting weights, and discipline had never been my strong suit.

  I was suddenly conscious of the fact that my stomach wasn’t totally flat and my ass was more well-rounded than generally preferred.

  I’d never minded my body before, but I wondered what Edward thought about it. He clearly wasn’t blown away. He’d never once tried to touch me.

  It would have been nice if he was at least a little attracted to me.

  After all, men were usually fine with having sex when offered—even with women who weren’t their physical ideals.

  I wondered what Edward’s hands would feel like touching me.

  I wondered what his body would feel like if I touched him.

  The urge was so intense that I almost reached out to stroke his bare chest, but fortunately, I recovered my senses in time.

  He might be my husband, and we might be on our honeymoon. But he was sleeping, and we just didn’t do that, even when awake.

  Deciding no good would come of my continuing to lie here and stare at him lustfully, I rolled over carefully so I could get up without awakening him.

  I needed to do something to distract myself, so I decided to take a walk. I’d been lounging around most of the day, so it would be good to do something active.

  Plus it would take me away from Edward’s fine body for a while.

  That would be a good thing.

  I was wearing a pretty, red tankini swimsuit and a flirty little skirt, so I just rubbed on more sunblock and slipped on a pair of sandals. Then I was ready to go.

  I walked down to the beach and headed toward the south, in the direction of the main areas of the resort. I walked for several minutes before I left our private beach. Then I started to see a scattering of beach chairs and sunbathers.

  Eventually I reached the tennis courts—not currently used since it was the hottest part of the afternoon—and one of the resort pools. Beyond this was a bar, and I decided I might as well get a drink.

  It would be nice to see other people out in the world since it felt like Edward and I had been alone all week.

  I ordered a fruity drink, chatted with the bartender for a few minutes, and then sat on a stool and looked at the people around me.

  Mostly couples and mostly rich. My own family might always be anxious about finances, but we moved in affluent circles and it was easy for me to recognize the type.

  Edward’s kind of people.

  The sort of people who’d never had to worry about money in their lives.

  I couldn’t imagine what that would be like.

  My family was in a much better financial situation now that we’d been before since we were joined to Edward’s family by marriage. After all, that was why I’d married him in the first place. I wondered if, in a few years, I’d end up with the kind of easy, confident attitude that all these people projected.

  I couldn’t imagine it, but maybe I would.

  After a few minutes, a middle-aged man came to sit on a stool near me and ordered a beer. He was one of those men who seem to get more attractive as they get older, and he gave me a casual smile.

  I smiled back. Why wouldn’t I?

  When he asked me how long I’d been here, I answered willingly enough. We chatted for a bit about the resort, and then he entertained me with a long story about his trials in getting here from the airport since his hired car hadn’t shown up.

  He was nice—and entirely casual. He wasn’t offensive in any way, and I was used to making conversation with whomever happened to be around me. I liked to talk to people. I’ve always been a friendly kind of person.

  I explain all this so it’s clear exactly what I was thinking in talking to this stranger, given what happened afterward.

  What happened was Edward showed up.

 
; I wasn’t even aware of him until he was standing directly behind my stool. At first I thought the tense presence behind me was another stranger and I was about to get offended by the hovering. When I looked over my shoulder and saw Edward, I straightened up in surprise.

  He’d pulled a shirt on and looked fully awake. His face was completely impassive, but it was tight in a way I hadn’t seen since we’d arrived here.

  It occurred to me then how much he’d actually relaxed with me in the past three days.

  Then it occurred to me that he was distinctly unhappy about something.

  I smiled at him—feeling fluttery and confused. “Hi. I thought you were sleeping.”

  Maybe this wasn’t the best thing to say. Edward clearly didn’t seem to appreciate it. His stoic face grew even tighter. “I’m not.”

  Feeling awkward and having no idea why I should feel that way, I glanced back over to the man I’d been chatting with. “This is my husband,” I explained to him.

  The man smiled in response, although he didn’t seem quite as friendly as he had the minute before. He glanced down at my hand on the bar, and I realized he was checking for a ring.

  I wore a huge diamond, plus a platinum wedding band. Surely he would have seen it before.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” he said, although none of us had given each other our names.

  Edward gave the man the barest of nods in response, and then he said to me in a low mutter, “Are you ready to go back?”

  I hadn’t been planning to go back. In fact, I wasn’t too pleased by his pressuring me in that way. But there was no sense in insisting on staying here for more tension and stiff conversation. I gave him an overly bright smile. “Sure.”

  I thanked the bartender and waved at the man I’d been chatting with as Edward and I left the bar area and headed back toward the beach.

  I waited for Edward to say something, explain why he was so bristly about nothing at all.

  As I should have expected, Edward said nothing.

  After a few minutes of walking in silence, I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I burst out. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Edward had been staring straight ahead, but he turned his head at this. His expression didn’t change at all although he raised his eyebrows in an obvious arrogant inquiry.