He needed to see her, convince himself he was doing the right thing for her…
Chapter 2
“It’s awful!”
Sophia stared at her best friend on her phone. She’d gotten Sophia out of scrapes before—well, she’d gotten her into them before, too, when they’d essentially ran away to go work at King’s Department Store. That did end up a good thing because they’d both found the loves of their lives.
“It can’t be that bad.” Belle screwed up her face and tucked her dark hair behind her ear. “Can it?”
“Want to bet?” Sophia rose from her elegant bed—a beautiful carved, wooden four-poster monstrosity handed down through the ages of her royal family. She left behind the wrinkled blush duvet and the delicate linens to march across the plush Persian rug in her silk King’s lavender jammies to the said awful item hanging in front of her now. “Look.”
Before she turned the phone, she spied her own distraught look in the nearby full-length mirror—hair in unusual disarray at having nearly pulled it out over the last dreadful argument with her lady-in-waiting on this very emotional subject and her eyes brimming with tears. “I can’t even try it on…”
“Shut the front door!” Belle yelled from halfway across the world. “You were right. It’s more than awful. How could anyone wear that disaster?”
Sophia winced. “My mother did. On her wedding day.” The words squeaked out. “I can’t wear her gown on mine.”
“Heck no! Gosh, not that thing! It’s unheard of.”
“Tell my father, the king, that.”
A gasp came over the line. “Is that—ruffles? Ew!”
“I told you.” Her insides knotted. “It’s over two and a half decades old—way past its prime. Can you believe it was the in thing back then? Even if there are alterations, it won’t be the one I want.”
An image of something simple and elegant to wear for her groom on their special day wouldn’t shake free.
“All this time, I thought the seamstresses on the royal staff have been hard at work for months on the fabrics and designs we—you, me, and King’s wedding dress designers— discussed. Now I discover Papa never agreed—especially after Mama’s passing— and nothing’s been done, leaving me with this. How can I get out of this trap I’m in now? Papa has his heart set on me wearing this when I marry Sebastian.”
“Lucky for you there’s two weddings—one in your country and one in Sebastian’s. Two dresses, right?”
“Oh, thanks, that really makes me feel better.” She dragged the phone back to see Belle. “It was only to be the one dress. But now that you mentioned two… Help me. You’re the wannabe fashion designer. You create a magnificent dress for me, we’ll accidentally leak it to the nosy press corps, my father will bow—no pun intended—to the pressure of image and appearances, and then you’ll be instantly well known across the world. And I will wear it on my wedding day, to one of them at least. Hopefully, both.”
Belle pursed her lips and tilted her head back and forth. “That’s a thought.” Then she shook her head. “Naw. As much as I’d love that, I’d never earn my credibility.”
“That’s why I like you so much.”
“Only that?”
Sophia laughed. “More and you know it, friend.” She sighed. “I was hoping you’d arrive sooner and bring me a gorgeous creation.” And somehow convince her papa to release the absurd idea of Sophia wearing this relic in front of her. Belle did have a way of making him see reason or at least buffer his reaction until he retreated a tad at times. “That second wedding…”
Confinement in the palace near the sea wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Sophia missed Sebastian, who worked extra hard to put his family home in order—for the tourists and business it brought in for his countrymen and for them. After visiting him and his people, they’d agreed to move into a smaller ten-room cottage on his property—more intimate and better for them as newlyweds when they were there.
“Like I’m a magician or wizard or something like that.”
“But you do have an incredible team. Rico and Peg and King’s seamstresses to the rescue. Pretty please.” It had been a longing deep inside that Sophia had to push down for weeks now when her father had brought the subject up. But looking at the dress, fresh from its locked away, climate-controlled storage unit, she could no longer dismiss the impending dread in the pit of her belly.
“I’ll call the troops.”
“This has to be a secret, Belle. No one can even get a whiff of this until it’s a done deal—”
“Or the king will hit the roof and stop it, and us, in our tracks. Yeah, I get it. We need a code name.”
Sophia giggled, a well of relief coming over her. Her support team had her back. “Operation Better Dress is on!”
Sebastian exited the luxurious private jet—courtesy of Stephan, who was more like a brother to him. The warm sea breeze swept over Sebastian and he smiled at the thought of surprising Sophia in less than an hour.
He nodded to the familiar driver—a quick friend since meeting him months ago, both in agreement to do what was best for Sophia—holding the back door of the sleek, black SUV open, and then handed over his garment bag. “Thanks, Zeb. How is she?”
“Nervous, I suspect, sir. A little more skittish around His Majesty, if I can be so bold.”
“Of course you can with me.” Easing in, Sebastian’s instincts were confirmed. His sweet Sophia seemed more than just an anxious bride during their numerous calls—at least twice a day.
She’d tried to reassure him that the arrangements were going nearly well enough; however, he didn’t entirely believe that. Her father—brash, pushy, and the king, after all—intimidated his own beloved daughter on the best of days. It appeared his grief had robbed him of his once calm and reasonable nature.
Needless to say, the king was used to getting his way in all things.
Except, of course, her future husband. Sebastian hadn’t been on the older man’s radar, never mind his short list of grooms for his only child. That still proved an obstacle with the king.
How do you convince your future father-in-law you’re the best husband for his only daughter when the man was against you and your humble lifestyle from the beginning?
Admittedly, Sebastian didn’t fit in with the well-trained royals and their elite world. However, he’d fallen fast and hard for his beautiful, kind-hearted Sophia and couldn’t imagine his life without her.
A niggling fear returned every time he thought of her giving up all this—the wealthy kingdom—even for short periods of time to live in his country. He didn’t have a staff of ten, never mind a hundred and ten, like she did. Nor were his at his beck and call.
He employed many of the villagers for his new venture for the castle. But they weren’t on his private payroll.
The more time he spent renovating and fixing the disrepair of his castle and cottage, the more concerned he grew about yanking Sophia out of her sophisticated element and plunking her down into his working class one.
Was he being selfish like the king had alluded to last time he visited here?
Sebastian had carved out a long weekend to be with Sophia, ease her concerns over the wedding, and do whatever a groom needed to do for his bride. It had been weeks since he’d seen her and every day was a little more torturous than the last without her.
Work had come to his rescue, drowning out his thoughts of the vast differences between Sophia and him and his longing for her.
Zeb climbed in behind the steering wheel. “It won’t be long now. The wedding, that is.”
“Can’t come quick enough for me.” Maybe he was too sensitive to his own plight. Sophia had never brought it up—their different lifestyles.
He’d grown up with Stephan as his champion—getting Sebastian into the same boarding schools and college and receiving the best education available. He’d gotten more. It was only fitting to want that for his own countrymen, their future children, and then grandchildren.<
br />
Sebastian leaned back and enjoyed the scenery—first the small, executive airport, through the winding streets, and climbing higher to the castle nestled by the gorgeous blue sea.
It was a far cry from his homeland, with the rugged mountains and lush green valleys dotted with grazing animals, quaint homes, and exuberant, friendly people. One where he ached to fully rebuild after past decades of hierarchy misuse and abandonment.
He had little time to leave the hard, back-breaking work behind.
But for Sophia he would.
She understood his urgency to renew and regenerate his land. Thankfully, she didn’t hesitate to give up the over-sized castle as their home in order for it to become a newfound luxury resort with a spa and more amenities to follow.
The engine slowed, bringing Sebastian back to the moment. Looking out the window, he noted the regal guards on each side of the huge, twenty-foot golden gates. They waved Zeb in and he drove the rest of the long drive on a slow crawl, passing meticulously landscaped gardens and perfectly clipped hedges.
A niggling sensation rubbed Sebastian’s gut. His attempts at his own didn’t amount to anything nearing this magnitude.
He’d never be able to afford this for Sophia.
“We’re here, sir.” Zeb halted the car.
An impeccable uniformed guard opened the door. The click resounded in the compartment, causing Sebastian to think this was the end of something and he was about to cross into an entirely new territory.
Chapter 3
The castle staff raised their eyebrows as Sophia walked through the whisper-quiet halls on her way to a small parlor—her mother’s she’d taken over for wedding planning—with a dainty balcony overlooking the ocean.
Hadn’t the staff ever seen her in white jeans before? They were new and she loved the freedom. Her blue silk top almost matched the color of the sea. Both came from her recent online King’s purchase—courtesy of Belle walking her through the process while Rico and Peg helped select them along with a few, more up-to-date outfits.
She looked both ways and rounded corners to dodge the palace etiquette police, only to stop short at a sudden noisy commotion coming from below.
Sophia edged to the hallway railing overlooking the foyer. Three of her father’s personal staff were in a semi-circle in a rather unroyal-like argument.
“This is unheard of!”
“Why, it will upset the schedule.”
“It’s so romantic.”
What were they talking about? There hadn’t been this much excitement in the palace since, well, forever.
The smartly dressed guards near the huge foyer straightened their backs to full attention as the large doors opened—the beam of sunshine spilling and widening with each inch.
Holding her breath, Sophia couldn’t fathom who had caused this much unrest. Her father wasn’t even in residence today, having departed three hours ago for a parliament meeting that was likely to endure for at least that much more, if not stretching out longer.
Whispers from the gathering staff below rose to her. Sadly, Sophia couldn’t make out a word. She leaned more. Nothing.
Deep inside, she wished she were bolder and braver to march downstairs to greet the visitor, whoever that may be. However, tradition and protocol held her feet to the floor.
When the doors were fully open, she fixated her gaze there, waiting breathlessly. Who could it be?
A man’s polished boots came into view first. She frowned, thinking that they looked familiar. And then she glanced at his stature and frame. Her heart skipped a beat or a dozen.
“Sebastian!”
He jerked his head up and captured her gaze, smiling widely. His blue eyes sparkled. “Sophia!”
Gasps ran rampant through the staff, like a round robin game—rippling and growing in intensity.
She held up her hands. “Wait! I’ll come to you.” Sophia hightailed it for the right side of the split set of stairs yards away. Tears gathered and she swiped them away as she flew down the many steps.
Sebastian didn’t wait; he met her at the bottom, hugged her, picked her up, and then spun them around. His sweet laughter echoed in the tall entrance and filled her ears.
“You’re here.” She held him tighter, breathing in his fresh, masculine woodsy scent, and savoring his strength. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Sophia closed her eyes and sighed. He was her rock, her anchor, her everything.
He leaned back. “Hey, look at me. Don’t cry.”
“I missed you so much,” she whispered, gazing into his eyes. Without thinking, she clasped his face in her hands and kissed him—soft and slow with a need overtaking her to touch him.
More shocked gasps sliced through the air.
Sophia stilled. Heat crawled up her neck. “They saw.”
Slowly, Sebastian set her back on her shaky feet. “Afraid so. Is that a crime in your country?” He tried to tease her, but she noted the deep well of concern in his voice.
“Not yet. Hopefully never.” She pressed a hand to his chest, liking the solidness there. “It’s just not, um, acceptable behavior for a princess.”
“Either we follow along or change what’s acceptable.”
There it was. A serious, strained tone lingered. Reluctantly, Sophia stepped back and searched his stare.
That troubling debate tore through her again—live according to rule and law or create chaos and forge a new way.
Her mother’s wedding gown wasn’t the only obstacle in her way…
Sebastian followed the middle-aged male servant into the large guest room in a remote wing of the castle, far away from anything, or so it seemed.
The enormity of the room blew him away. The ceilings were at least fifteen feet tall and the breadth of it—bedroom and sitting area—rivaled entire homes in his village.
Not to mention the ornate furnishings straight from a few centuries ago. The drapes, bedding, and even the fabric on the sofa and chairs had gold threading throughout.
This room reeked of wealth and privilege.
He would bet good money the kingdom itself didn’t realize the millions spent on such extravagance. But then, they were a rich nation. Unlike his.
Another ripple of unease shot through his chest.
Sophia was a part of this. She lived and breathed it for more than two decades.
What did she even think of his humble existence in his land?
She seemed happy enough there when she visited—in fact, she was more of the woman he’d fallen in love with at King’s Department Store.
They hadn’t discussed the vast differences. Perhaps he’d ignored them on purpose, preferring to imagine they could co-exist in his country, with visits to hers.
Thinking the opposite arrangement could come into play made him cringe. He could never live like this—with staff at his beck and call, his every need served to him, and with no real work to do.
“It’s a bit much, don’t you think?” Sophia waited at the door, hesitant to step over the threshold. She brushed back her long dark hair and her big brown eyes searched his.
“Your Highness, this is not acceptable.” An older woman, dressed in a navy business suit, approached Sophia.
“I’m extending an invitation to my…fiancé. Sebastian, will you meet me in my mother’s parlor for, uh, refreshments?”
His chest squeezed at the formality in her tone and the way she carefully measured her words. “I can’t wait.” Maybe when they were truly alone they could be themselves again. Like that moment when she first saw him walk into the palace and flew into his arms…
She gave instructions to the male servant to escort Sebastian when he was ready. Before she left, she caught and held his stare.
Awareness rippled through him.
He grinned. It couldn’t get more real than that.
So why did this sense of dread come over him?
Sophia paced the length of the usually calming parlor—done in crisp whites and various shades of blues, fr
om the softest to the brightest and everything in between—back and forth, wringing her hands.
The wedding preparations were getting out of control. A small army of staff and wedding planners were behind the scenes, following strict protocol in creating a lavish event. A thousand purple-and-gold invitations to royals and dignitaries and celebrities all over the world had been officially sent a few days ago.
Everything was too elaborate and extravagant for her tastes. Sophia knew they’d be even more so for Sebastian.
She’d read as much from his expressions as he gazed around the enormous palace and his room. Each stay did not cause him to lose that bewildered expression at the utter extravagance.
Every new element added to the absurd one before weighed on her shoulders. Seeing her mother’s wedding dress earlier and what dragging it out of storage meant hammered it all home.
If her mother were here she wouldn’t force Sophia to wear it. She’d understand not only the style wasn’t Sophia’s, but the special dress on her special day had to be of her choosing—a beautiful memory to cherish.
They’d grown surprisingly close after Sophia’s confession months ago of falling for Sebastian—an unlikely groom for a princess. Her mother’s rough edges had softened and much welcomed warmth followed.
She’d listened to Sophia’s pleas of marrying for love instead of a marriage of convenience to another royal. In this instance, her mother relented and agreed duty over heart was completely wrong for her daughter.
“More than the life I was destined for…”
Also, her mother wouldn’t have foisted the over-the-top ceremony and reception on Sophia. A ten-foot-tall wedding cake? Four orchestras with a half dozen solo performers? Extravagant was too mild a word for the unfolding circus.
The soft knock on her door caused her to halt in her tracks, turn quickly, and then step forward. “Come in.”
At the sight of Sebastian, she released her breath. His surprise visit thrilled her beyond words. However, the staff lingered, first with bringing the tea trolley, setting the china on the small table, and then taking their sweet time in leaving, gingerly closing the door behind them.
Once Upon a Royal Wedding Page 2
