“Speaking of which…” Catherine tugged her hand free to twine her fingers in her lap. There was no better time than now to say it, but she wasn’t sure how to start. “How would you feel about being king?”
His brow shot up. “King?”
“There’s this vote, known as the sovereign vote. If I call for a national referendum and we get up of ninety-five percent of the votes in favour, we can override the traditional law that prevents you from becoming king once we’re married.”
“No.” Nicolas pushed off the chair and strode to the fireplace. Once there, he turned sharply. “I don’t want to rule Ophella. I’ve never wanted that.”
“Neither did I,” Catherine murmured. Nevertheless, her voice carried across the empty room and brought Nicolas striding back to her.
“You’ll make a wonderful queen one day. You were born to it. Raised for it. Ophella doesn’t need or want a king.”
“Ophella does.” She lifted her chin as he came to a halt before her. “As do I. The vote isn’t guaranteed, of course, but I’m asking you to take that risk. For us.”
“Risk?” He perched down on his stool again. “What risk?”
Catherine shrugged awkwardly. She knew how much she was asking. “The risk of rejection.”
A scowl blackened his face. “A negative vote is the last thing I’m worried about. I wouldn’t consider it a rejection either way. I want to be your husband, Catherine, not king to your queen.”
“You can be both.”
Nicolas scrubbed his jaw. “Why? Why is this so important?”
“I don’t want any barriers between us, Nicolas.”
“There won’t be,” he assured her. “You may be queen one day, but our love will always equalise us.”
“I know that now.” But there was more. “I don’t want to stand alone. I don’t want to be strong on my own.”
“You’ll never be on your own again. You can lean on me, trust in me, confide in me. I’ll always have ready advice for you to take or ignore.”
Catherine sighed. “The next time I call the queen’s guard on you, I’d like to know that you’ll counter it by calling the king’s guard on me. Is it so very hard to understand?”
“No, it isn’t.” Nicolas shuffled his stool closer to her and lifted her hands into his. “This isn’t what I expected, or wanted. I have my research to consider.”
Once, he’d professed he’d give up a kingdom for her. Instead, she was asking him to take one on. He didn’t want this, didn’t see the need or reason and doubted he’d make much of a king, but his mind and heart had never wavered. He’d do whatever their love demanded of him. “I needn’t stop my work. There’ll be less time, sure, but then there would be anyway with a wife and children to consider.”
“So, you’ll give Ophella a king?”
His fingers folded around hers, lightly at first, then binding urgently to match the intensity in his eyes. “I love you, Catherine. I will always give you everything that is within my power. If and when the time comes, we’ll let Ophella decide.”
“My mother wants to abdicate,” she told him.
Nicolas frowned. “Her health hasn’t deteriorated while I was away, has it?”
“She’s stronger every day,” Catherine assured him. “But her illness has left its mark and I agree with her reasons. She needs extended rest and since I’ve being performing her duties for these past months, she feels that the transition has already taken place smoothly and this is the best course for stability.”
“She will need rest,” Nicolas agreed and then realised exactly what she was saying.
His expression must have betrayed him, for Catherine gave a small laugh.
“You won’t regret it,” Catherine reassured Nicolas. “This will not interfere with your research, I promise.”
He held up his hand. “I hope it does.” And then his frown disappeared with the return of his grin and he pulled her off her stool and onto his lap. “Now, about those children. How many did you have in mind?”
Epilogue
Over a thousand candles lit the small chapel for Ophella’s state wedding. The chapel had been part of the original castle, surviving from the fifteenth century and had witnessed all the royal marriages. Due to its size, only family and close friends shared in the solemn vows spoken within but, as Catherine and Nicolas followed the trail of long stemmed roses strewn between the aisles to the outside, the population of Ophella waited to greet them.
When they made their appearance beneath the narrow stone porte-cochere bounded by roman style columns, the unanimous cheer roared like thunder shaking the earth. Holding onto Catherine’s hand, Nicolas pulled her into his side, forcing their arms behind and out of sight of the people of Ophella. Catherine’s people. His people.
“Our people,” he said softly as they looked out at the festive crowd. When he glanced down on his wife’s profile, he was inordinately pleased that he’d insisted on a full month’s honeymoon before the queen officially abdicated. Before Catherine was crowned. Before he was crowned as king at her side. Since Ophella had voted in favour of accepting him as their king, he’d grown accustomed to the idea, grown attached to the people who would be part of his extended family. But for now, he wanted Catherine to himself. For a little while longer, he intended to be ruthlessly selfish with their time and their love.
“I think it’s time to kiss the bride,” Nicolas said, his touch gentle as he lifted her chin to him.
“Haven’t we already done that?” But her lids were already closing, her blood warming, her lips parting slightly for her husband’s kiss that was frustratingly light, even as he lingered over it.
When he pulled back to look into her languid gaze, his grin was lopsided. “Hold that thought.”
How to Love a Princess Page 17
