‘Oh, Alastair…’
‘It was Bert’s idea.’
‘It was no such thing.’ She knew that much at least. Alastair must have thought of this all by himself. She thought back to the day a couple of weeks ago when he’d discovered her swearing over a gashed hand and a copestone that wouldn’t cut as she’d wanted it. ‘Bert wouldn’t have thought of this as a gift.’ She managed a wavering smile. ‘Not in a million years. As a matter of fact, I think one of our toasters is his.’
‘It would be.’
Silence. She carefully disengaged his hand. For some reason it was suddenly important that she do so.
A thousand copestones…
She couldn’t have thought of a better wedding gift if she’d tried.
Damn, there was a tear trickling down her nose-and then another one. She wiped them fiercely away with the back of her hand, and gave a very unromantic sniff.
Which suddenly made Alastair feel very romantic indeed.
This was unreal. Standing in the dawn light, beside a mound of stones, with a woman in bridal attire… A woman who sniffed and tried to look fierce when he knew she wanted to burst into tears. And the reason for those tears? Because here was a woman who thought a pile of copestones was the greatest present…
He put a hand out to touch her, but she backed away as if she were scared of being scorched. ‘No!’
‘No, what?’ His eyes were on hers. ‘Don’t you like my gift?’
‘I…I do.’ But Penny-Rose knew what she’d stepped back from. She knew what was close to happening. And she didn’t want this man to kiss her.
Not yet. It wasn’t right.
She didn’t want to seduce him, she thought frantically. Nor did she want him to make love to her because she was convenient.
She wanted him to fall in love with her. As she loved him. So intensely that she ached…
‘I…I have a gift for you, too,’ she murmured softly, and it brought him up short. A gift…
‘You don’t have any money,’ he said before he could stop himself, and she glared.
‘Yeah, well, there are some things that can be gained without money. Like Leo.’
‘Like our aristocratic dog,’ he agreed. ‘A gift without price.’ And then his brow creased and he grinned in mock dismay. ‘Oh, hell. Don’t tell me. Another dog?’
‘It’s nothing of the kind,’ she said with dignity. ‘Though if I find one with just the right pedigree…’
‘To match Leo’s.’
‘That’s right.’ She was relaxing again now. The moment of tension had passed. ‘So…do you want to see my gift?’
‘Of course I do.’ He was fascinated.
‘It doesn’t come in a velvet box either,’ she told him. ‘And it’s not gift-wrapped. It’s no toaster.’
‘Rose, there’s no need to give me anything.’
‘You brought the kids over for the wedding,’ she said simply. ‘You’ve given me the earth. So of course there’s a need for a gift. It took me a while to figure out what, but I finally did.’
‘What-?’
‘Come and see.’
Once again they walked around the castle, but this time south, where pastures gave way to woodland. Here there was a small rise, looking back over the castle to the cliffs and river plains beyond. It was a place of absolute beauty. Penny-Rose had found it one day when she’d sought a quiet place to eat her lunch, and she’d been back again and again ever since.
And finally she’d asked Marguerite about it.
‘My husband loved the castle,’ Marguerite had said. ‘In a way, he felt it was his ancestral home. And Lissa’s family couldn’t bear for her to be buried alone. There’s a crypt for the royal family underneath the chapel, but we thought…it’d be lovely if they were buried here.’
So there were two simple gravestones, nestled among the woodland. And surrounded by flowers…
‘Alastair planted them,’ Marguerite had told her. ‘All the flowers we both love. Wildflowers and roses and daffodils and tulips and honeysuckle and wisteria… So it’ll be a mass of flowers all year round.’
The only jarring note, to Penny-Rose’s mind, was the fence. They’d erected a simple wire fence around the graves to keep the cattle out, and it looked discordant in such a lovely place.
So she’d fixed it.
Alastair hadn’t been here for weeks. He’d had so much on his plate he hadn’t had time.
But now… He saw what she’d done before he reached the graves. His steps slowed. He walked up to the fence and he stopped and took it in.
It was the most beautiful fence he’d seen in his life. Made of simple sandstone, every stone was perfect. The fence formed a tiny fold about ten feet square, a croft where the graves were protected against the weather and against the cattle.
And the fence was built with such care and craftsmanship that the graves would be protected for a thousand years.
It was high-four feet or so-so the sturdiest sheep couldn’t climb over, but there were throughstones forming a stile so one could enter.
And she’d formed smoots-narrow slits in the stone-regularly spaced, all the way along. ‘To let light in, and so the woodland creatures can enjoy your garden,’ she explained, watching his face with some anxiety. ‘The first morning I walked up here I saw a litter of tiny rabbits munching on your buttercups. And I thought…if this was my grave that’s what I’d want.’
Silence.
‘I can pull it down if you don’t like it,’ she whispered, still anxious. ‘But it was the one thing I could do for you. I know you loved your dad and you loved Lissa. And somehow this seemed right.’
It did, too.
It seemed perfect.
Alastair climbed the stile without a word. Reaching the top, he held out his hand. After the briefest of hesitations, Penny-Rose placed her hand in his and climbed the stile with him. Her wedding dress was lifted carefully over, and then they were together in the fold.
Around them, wildflowers blossomed around masses of tulips. Wisteria had been carefully restrung against the stones. As it was late spring it was losing its flowers so a carpet of soft blue petals lay everywhere, and the wild roses were just starting to bloom.
The smell of the morning was with them. The dew on the grass left a pungent fragrance where they walked, and the two simple graves lay gently side by side. Like two friends.
As they had been, Marguerite had told her. Lissa had been almost a daughter to Alastair’s parents. These were Alastair’s people, and it was right that they be buried together.
‘Thank…thank you,’ he said in a voice that wasn’t too steady, and this time it was he who badly wanted to sniff. Penny-Rose heard it and managed a grin. She was still feeling distinctly sniffy herself.
Keep it practical… ‘Not carrying a handkerchief?’ she managed.
‘They gave me a buttonhole instead.’ He smiled, and plucked the crimson rose from his lapel. ‘As a handkerchief it makes a very poor substitute, but here it is. What’s mine is yours.’
It was a simple statement-a jest-but it hung between them like the promise of the morning to come.
Only…the morning was already here.
‘We…we’d best get back to the castle,’ Penny-Rose said uncertainly. ‘We have a plane to catch this afternoon and we haven’t had any sleep.’
‘That’s right.’ But he couldn’t keep his eyes from her. ‘We have a honeymoon to begin.’
‘A holiday,’ she corrected him. ‘You need to be really married to go on a honeymoon.’
‘And we’re not really married?’
She hitched her dress high. This scene was threatening to run away with her, and she wasn’t ready. Alastair wasn’t ready.
Seduction wasn’t her scene. She was playing for keeps, so she had to be practical. Somehow.
‘No, Alastair, we’re not,’ she told him. She looked down at Lissa’s grave, and a tiny smile curved her lips. ‘I hope we’re becoming like you and Lissa…good frien
ds. But that’s not a basis for a marriage.’
‘Lissa and I thought so.’
‘Well, I’m not Lissa.’ She stepped up onto the stile and stayed on the fence-top for a moment, looking down. She looked immeasurably lovely, dressed in her bridal finery, with the dawn light behind her and the carpet of wildflowers at her feet. ‘I’m me. I’m Penny-Rose. The girl who married for money. I’m your bride for a year, but just for a year, Alastair de Castaliae. So let’s not forget it.’
The door between Alastair and his new bride was firmly locked.
‘Goodnight,’ she’d said sweetly as they’d arrived back at the castle. She’d stood on tiptoe to kiss him but it had been a fleeting kiss of farewell-nothing more. ‘We only have eight hours till we catch our plane. I’m off to get some beauty sleep and I suggest you do the same.’
But how could he, when every nerve in his body screamed that his bride was just on the other side of the door?
Belle.
Think of Belle, he told himself desperately. He’d promised to marry her. That was the sort of marriage he wanted. Not…not what he could have with Rose.
And what sort of marriage was the one he envisaged with Rose? If he allowed it to become…proper.
It was the sort of marriage his mother had had, he acknowledged, because if he allowed himself to give-as Rose gave-there’d be no holding back.
And if anything happened…
As it did. As life had taught him it always did. He’d committed himself to Lissa and it had ended in tragedy.
If something like that happened again, he’d go crazy, he told himself fiercely.
But maybe he was going crazy already!
CHAPTER TEN
TAKING the kids on their honeymoon didn’t make it less romantic, Alastair decided a few days later. It made it more so. After initial polite protests, the kids had agreed to accompany them. They intended to have a great time but they also intended their sister to have a honeymoon to remember for ever.
Which included romantic seclusion.
‘We want to spend time with you,’ both Penny-Rose and Alastair protested, but their words fell on deaf ears.
‘Well, we don’t want to spend time with you,’ Heather declared. ‘So this morning we’ve booked the catamarans. One each. We’re having lessons and the instructor can only take three, so you guys will just have to find something else to do. Hmm. I wonder what?’ She threw them a cheeky grin and disappeared.
Which left them alone. Again.
‘I…I’ll take a walk,’ Penny-Rose said, and Alastair gazed at her in exasperation. In three days she hadn’t relaxed once, and the island wasn’t big enough to stay away from each other for ever.
‘Can I come with you?’
She appeared to give it serious thought. As if she didn’t really want to. ‘I… If you like.’
‘I do like.’
Of course he liked. Who wouldn’t? OK, it might be unwise, but in a simple sarong, with her hair hanging free and her nose sporting a touch of sunburn, she looked almost breathtakingly lovely. What man could resist walking beside a woman like this?
Especially when that woman was his wife. 146
In name only!
He had to keep reminding himself of that. Ever since they’d arrived they’d been treated as being very much in love, and formality was harder and harder to maintain.
The sleeping arrangements were the hardest. There were three guest cottages on the island-gorgeous thatched bures. If Alastair and Penny-Rose had done what they’d first planned and had the island to themselves, they could have had a cottage each. But Liz and Heather had taken one and Michael another. Which left only the honeymoon suite.
The suite was gorgeous. Built right on the edge of the waves, whenever they liked they could push back the folding walls so that sea air and moonlight drifted right into the room with them. Simple but beautifully built, it was almost erotic in its design, with one enormous bed taking up over half the room.
So… The sensible plan had been to place a row of cushions down the middle of the bed.
It worked-sort of. But the trace of shadows under Rose’s eyes told Alastair that she was feeling the strain almost as much as he was.
She was so near and yet so far.
She was his wife!
She was his paid companion for a year, he reminded himself harshly as they walked slowly along the sand. Nothing more. He couldn’t let her any closer than this. Otherwise when it ended he’d go nuts.
Did it have to end?
Yes, he told himself fiercely. It must. Even if he was stupid enough to lose his heart, there was Belle to consider.
And it was just plain stupid to let himself lose his heart. Hadn’t life taught him anything?
‘Penny for them?’ Penny-Rose asked, and he lifted his head with surprise. They were in the shallows, barefooted and kicking their way through the foam. Alastair was wearing his bathing trunks and nothing else. Which was just as well. Any minute now he could end up swimming.
If things became too hot…
‘I beg your pardon?’ He had trouble forcing his thoughts from where they’d been straying.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ she repeated. ‘You look away with the fairies.’
He managed a smile. ‘Was I? Sorry. I was thinking of Belle.’
Penny-Rose’s smile faded. Belle. Of course. She was between them all the time. ‘You must miss her.’
‘I… Yes.’
‘This’ll be hard on you both,’ Penny-Rose admitted. ‘Knowing how beautiful this is…’ She brightened a little. ‘Still, the fact that my sisters and brother are here must make it easier for her.’
‘I…’ Hell, concentrate! Make yourself talk sensibly, he told himself. ‘It does. Belle approves of the idea.’
‘I’m glad.’
But Belle had called Rose ‘the creature’.
Alastair looked across at the creature in question. The soft breeze was blowing her hair into a tumble of riotous curls. The sun was warm on her face and she was lifting her nose to smell the sea.
‘Isn’t it gorgeous?’ she breathed, and he was forced to smile his agreement.
‘Absolutely.’ But he wasn’t talking about what she was talking about.
Maybe he’d better head for the water!
But beside him Penny-Rose had paused. Far out in the bay, just around the headland from where they were, she could see three little catamarans. Her siblings were having a ball. She watched for a while, and then sighed and smiled.
‘I want to thank you,’ she said seriously. ‘Alastair, what you’re doing for us…’
‘I’m doing it for me.’
‘I don’t think you are,’ she said softly. Before he could stop her she’d caught his hand and was tracing the strong lines below the wrist. ‘I think you’re doing this for your tenants and for Belle and for your mother-and for me. But maybe not for you. I’m starting to know that you don’t really want to be royalty.’
‘Being royalty can’t hurt.’ The feel of her hand was unnerving. One part of him wanted to pull away.
The other part of him wanted to move in closer.
‘You dislike the publicity.’
‘I… Yes.’
‘It’ll get worse.’
‘For a while.’
‘Because of our marriage?’
‘I guess.’
‘And the divorce at the end-there’ll be a heck of a fuss.’
‘I can cope.’ He shrugged. A year was starting to seem a very long way away.
‘I wish I could make it easier for you.’
The only way she could make things easier was to leave right now. He was starting to feel as if he was being torn in two. To have her so near…
‘Come in for a swim,’ he suggested, and she kicked up some water with her toes.
‘I wish I could.’
He’d forgotten. Again.
She couldn’t swim. He’d discovered it on the first day. The others had somehow managed to
learn but his wife hadn’t been so fortunate. In her tough childhood, there’d simply never been time.
And Alastair hadn’t found the courage to say what he most wanted to say. That he’d teach her.
Because how could he teach her without touching her? And how could he touch her without-?
He hauled his hand away and grimaced. ‘OK. You do your splashing bit and I’ll do my lap stuff.’
Which was fine, he thought savagely as he stroked strongly in deep water. This way he could put some of his unused physical energy to good use. So far this holiday he must have swum for twenty miles or more. Every time things got too much for him he swam while Rose enjoyed herself in the shallows.
Did she enjoy herself?
Of course she did, he told himself. She’d never been to the beach. It was a novelty. The shallows were enough!
He was being mean!
But if he wasn’t mean…that way led to disaster. Teaching her to swim… Letting her close…
Alastair paused but as he did so a movement caught his eye. Entranced, he trod water and watched.
Out past the breakers, where the waves were forming into massive, rolling swells, a pod of dolphins had come in to surf. They were darting into the sapphire crests, row upon row of them-there had to be thirty-using the force of the waves to surf gloriously toward shore.
Alastair was just far enough out to see. They were past the sand-bar which created the lagoon effect where Alastair swam and Rose paddled. Between sand-bar and the beach, the water sloped gently, meaning he had to be a hundred yards from the beach before he could swim.
And that meant Rose could hardly see the dolphins from where she was.
She’d love them. Alastair watched the sea creatures for a moment longer, and then he glanced back at Rose. She was lying full length in the shallows, letting the foam trickle through her toes. She was wearing a crimson bikini, and nothing more.
She looked blissfully happy, and very, very lovely.
But the dolphins were a sight to be seen maybe once in a lifetime, Alastair thought desperately. She should see them.
She couldn’t see them from where she was. Not properly.
A Royal Proposition Page 14
