A Wish and a Wedding

by Margaret Way

  With a few pithy words she’d cut through the layers of his self-delusion to the ugly core truth. Though his diplomatic work and ties would help Persolis, that wasn’t why he’d stayed on in the Corps. He hadn’t planned to be Duke, had never wanted it. He liked his life as it was. He didn’t want to change it, didn’t want to right anyone’s wrongs on a deeper level than he did now. And when the promised time came to take over and let his mother retire, would he continue making excuses?

  Not now. Not now he saw himself for the man he was—and didn’t like it. He did care for his land, his people—and it was time to stop running away.

  “I’m sorry, that was out of line,” she mumbled, as he seemed still lost in his thoughts. “It’s none of my business what you do, Lysander. It’s between you and your mother.”

  “And my people.” He fixed his gaze on her, loving the honest remorse in her pretty face. Loving her caring. Just—loving. Wanting her to feel proud of him, he gave her similar honesty. “I’m going back, Mari. Even if I don’t feel qualified, I’m going back.”

  Her smile, so tentative, grew until a light like sunrise filled her eyes. “Start small and work your way up, Dad always says. He began by picking up rubbish on the beaches. Now, twenty years later, he earns a good living in recycling with his ‘clean green’ business. He even consults with members of the Australian Government on safe rubbish storage practices.”

  “Impressive,” he murmured, wanting to kiss her so badly it was pain. But—hadn’t he met a green representative on unsafe rubbish practices last time he was in Persolis? He remembered signing something to make changes to an edict of his father’s, so that residents near the dump were exposed to less hazardous waste…

  Suddenly intrigued, he asked, “What does he do with rubbish that’s so unique the government consults him on it?”

  “He’s invented a kind of environmental blanket for naturally-degradable rubbish, and is working on a radiation-reducing container for toxic waste.” Grinning, Mari rose from the deck lounger. “Dad’s passion for a cleaner environment is too serious a conversation on a stomach only filled with ice cream. See you at dinner.”

  She ran lightly along the deck, her curly ponytail floating behind her. She had a little tripping step; he always thought she’d fall flat on her face at any moment. Sander had been appreciating her unusual way of moving for days. He’d finally worked it out, after watching her constantly: she had a slight tendency toward pigeon toes she was forcing outward, and it made her awkward. Graceful she was not.

  And yet though this couldn’t possibly last beyond the few days they were on the yacht, he couldn’t stop smiling. And wishing. And wanting.

  The worst of it was the more he had of her, the more he wanted—a lifetime of more—and duty was flapping out through the window on the wings of an albatross, slow and relentless.

  Slow? He’d known her all of five days, and for the past four days all he’d been able to think of was touching her again, and the joy of having that gorgeous smile beaming up at him as she laid her sweet little hands on him. When they’d swum off Naxos he’d been in pain, trying to keep his hands and body to himself; but she hadn’t had such scruples. She’d started a splashing contest as an excuse to get closer, and wrapped silky-wet arms around his neck.

  “I know,” she’d breathed, as an attack of unwanted conscience had taken him over and he’d tried to hold off. “This is all we can have, Lysander. It’s just a holiday romance—so let’s enjoy our holiday.”

  The tender acceptance in her words had made him hate himself, but he hadn’t held back. Sweet, salty kisses in the warm ocean with a woman he liked, respected as well as desired—a memory to keep when he had to do his duty and marry the right woman.

  He’d made dozens of memories since then: dancing beneath the stars at night; eating from her fork at lunch at Naxos; her soft moans when they touched; the feel of her against him when they kissed, her body always straining to be closer.

  They had to get back to Hellenia, and fast. He couldn’t hold out much longer—and not just against making love to her. Every day, every hour, he was falling in deeper. He was barely sleeping, filled with the need to get off the bed, walk about forty feet, pull her into his arms and tell her, Let’s do what your great-uncle did—run away and forget the consequences. It won’t start a war this time…

  He groaned to himself. How could she say yes, given her family history and her love for her cousins? But it didn’t stop the stupid hope that she’d put him first… That she’d marry him and give him a lifetime of her caring, her scruples and her joy in living, in touching him. He couldn’t lie to himself: he loved Mari, but he couldn’t make love to her. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt her, knowing he had to walk away. All he could hope for was more wonderful kisses…and that he’d remember her and their time together with a smile when he did his duty.

  “Your Grace, Her Majesty the Queen is on the phone for you,” the steward informed him respectfully.

  “Perfect timing,” he murmured beneath his breath. Racked with guilt, filled with hidden resentment against the future and the duty he had to embrace, Sander walked to the bridge to speak to Jazmine.

  “Tonight’s the night,” Mari said softly to herself as she pulled the little black dress from its hanger.

  They were out of time; they docked back at Orakidis Harbour tomorrow.

  Lysander’s scruples made him even more wonderful to her—she knew he was holding back on making love for her sake—but if this time was all they could have…if this night was their last…she wanted to have a night to remember.

  Tonight, all she hadn’t been able to bear with Mikhail would become all she could dream of. Tonight she’d give everything to Lysander. One night with the man she was head over heels in love with would be worth the price she paid later.

  How she’d fallen in love so fast, after a lifetime of never loving any other man she’d met, she had no idea. Perhaps it was holiday love—maybe it could never last for them—but right now she didn’t care. She only asked for tonight.

  Deliberately she wore no shoes, no jewellery, and left her hair down, mussed with mousse, as if she’d just risen from bed. She wore no make-up but shimmering lipgloss. The dress, with its spaghetti straps and flaring short skirt, gave the message she needed.

  This time there was no agonised indecision. She walked straight out of her room and up the stairs to the dining hall—and caught her breath. Lysander waited for her in a magnificent tuxedo, with a deep red rose in his hand, and that smile. “Mari mou,” he said softly—My Mari.

  Wanting nothing more than to run into his arms, she couldn’t ruin the moment. She walked slowly to him, her whole body alight with joy and need. “Lysander…” she breathed.

  “We’re not going to talk about safe garbage practices tonight,” he murmured as he put the rose in her hand.

  Even as she lifted the rose to her face, she choked on laughter. “No, we’re not.” And she slid her arms around his neck. “Make love to me.”

  His eyes took fire, but still they searched hers. “Are you sure?”

  “I know we can only have tonight.” She smiled bravely up at him, a mass of yearning and sad acceptance twining in her heart. “Tomorrow we pretend it didn’t happen, for everyone’s sake—you’ll keep your position, and I’ll go home. But tonight is ours.”

  “No. Either way, I’m going home too. You were right—it’s time for me to take my place in Persolis.” A tender hand caressed her cheek; his eyes were filled with desire, with caring, and she felt her heart splinter. “I don’t want just one night with you, Mari. I want you to know that if it were up to me we’d have so much more.”

  She closed her eyes in joy and agony. One of them had to keep their head. For Lysander’s sake, and for his people. “Change will come to Hellenia slowly. There’s no convenient duchy for me, to make me acceptable. I can’t be like Great-Uncle Kyri and Great-Aunt Giulia, and toss aside the consequences to others. So let’s have tonigh
t.”

  Lysander kissed her once, twice, and melting honey filled her body, sweet yearning and hot need. “You’re so lovely, so strong and caring—you’d fight for what’s right. You’d make a magnificent duchess…” he whispered in her ear, and she felt the if only hovering in the air between them.

  Moved, lost, she had to struggle against saying something stupid. “Take me to bed.”

  He lifted her in his arms. “I feel so happy when I’m touching you.”

  That was it—she’d waited for so long for this kind of happiness, for the dream to come. But this could only be a holiday romance. They were worlds apart; only the here and now existed for them. “Me too.”

  “I tried to stop this,” he mumbled hoarsely between kisses. “But how do I resist a woman who’s perfect for me in every way, or tell my heart to stop feeling like this? In a world where I rarely know what to believe, I believe in you, Mari.”

  “Lysander,” she whispered against his mouth, angling her face so it fitted his perfectly. She felt so wonderful in his arms…He murmured endearments in his native tongue, and her heart became his—but she gave it in silence, for his sake.

  “This is inevitable,” he whispered. “We’re inevitable. We’re right. Tell me you feel it, Mari. I know you do.”

  Oh, she did, but at this moment, when dream could become reality, the strong streak of practicality in her overtook her fantasies and stepped gently on them. “I want to make love,” she said in reply, because there was nothing else to say.

  Instead of taking her to bed, he put her back on her feet and cupped her face in his hands. “You don’t believe in us?”

  Hating to hurt him, she hesitated a moment too long, and his hands dropped from her face. She felt the words hovering on his tongue—then he stepped back; the emotion in his eyes dimmed, and he said, smooth and oh, so cool, “Dinner will be getting cold.”

  Mari’s smile faltered; the stars dimmed in her eyes and she nodded. “I understand, Your Grace.” Her voice was thick. “I’m not very hungry. Good night.”

  And with her acceptance, when his words had been designed to make her fight for him, Sander panicked. “No, Mari.” He strode to her—she was already walking out through the door—and snatched her close and kissed her, but she didn’t respond. “Stay,” he commanded roughly. “I’ll make you believe in us.”

  She shook her head and stepped back out of his arms. “I should never have started this. Like Prince Mikhail, you can’t offer me anything better, and I can’t humiliate my family.”

  There lay their conflict in a nutshell. She’d said everything he wanted to ignore when he’d spoken of fate. “This isn’t like Mikhail. I respect you. I want more than a few weeks in bed.” More like the next five decades—but he wouldn’t say that until he was sure his feelings for her would last. He needed to feel enough to base a lifetime on—for all the wrong reasons as well as the right ones.

  “You can’t have it.” Her voice wobbled with sadness, but she spoke with the conviction of knowing she was right. “Charlie has changed the law for future kings and queens. Great-Uncle Kyri had a Grand Duchy to hand Toby in order for him to get his miracle. But even a duke isn’t powerful enough to change the way things are in Persolis. Uncle Kyri started a civil war after disappearing with a commoner—and he had a title and power. I have nothing.” She stepped back. “I think we should remain separate until we reach Orakidis Harbour tomorrow.”

  She was probably right, but angry at her fatalism, he snapped, “Why did you come here dressed like that if you won’t take the next step and accept the consequences?”

  She shook her head. “I thought I was courageous. I thought I could be your lover for tonight and be happy with the memories. But I’m afraid of hurting Charlie and Jazmine, Lia and Toby—not to mention my parents. I don’t care if I’m a hypocrite. I’m traditional. I want an old-fashioned wedding with both families there and being happy for us.”

  Her voice trembled, her eyes shimmered, and he wanted to see her cry even less than she wanted to be weak in front of him. “Go,” he said wearily. He didn’t know what the future held, but he was hurt that Mari wasn’t willing to risk everything for him. “I’ll order a tray to your room, and the yacht to return to dock by morning. We’re not far from Hellenia.”

  She turned away and left the room in a soft swish of black silk. She looked like a dream of lost beauty, a sweet ghost floating through the doors, leaving his life.

  And it was only as she walked away that he knew he couldn’t bear to think of a day, an hour without her. He’d do whatever it took to hold her—even face the wrath of princes and kings.

  All he had to do was convince her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THERE was a right royal welcoming committee waiting for them when they entered Orakidis Harbour the next morning.

  Mari’s heart sank when she saw the big royal yacht—at least twice the size of the magnificent one she now loved so much—sailing up beside them, with no less than three royal personages on deck: Charlie, Jazmine and Mikhail. All three of them were dressed casually, but looked grim. Charlie and Jazmine smiled at them as the yacht drew alongside, but Mikhail’s handsome face was set in impenetrable lines. Though the sun was shining, and the sky was clear, Mari saw storm clouds ahead. She sidled up to Lysander; her hand crept into his. “Prince Mikhail wouldn’t be here unless…”

  He nodded, his face smoothing out to diplomatic neutrality. “I’ll deal with this.” He squeezed her hand briefly before he stepped away. “We’ve done nothing, feel nothing we need to be ashamed of, Mari. Hold onto that when Mikhail starts.”

  Knowing what she now knew, after ten minutes’ research that first night, she knew what a sacrifice he was offering for her sake. “All right—thank you.”

  Then three more people emerged from the enormous double doors leading inside the royal yacht…and she groaned inside. “My parents, and my brother… Dad’s likely to insist on a wedding. I’m sorry—so sorry…”

  Lysander sent her an oblique smile. “I don’t think marrying you would be my worst nightmare, Mari. I’d survive the ordeal of a shotgun wedding…even if your brother’s pretty big and intense-looking. He didn’t bring a shotgun with him from Australia, did he?”

  Unbelievably, Mari heard laughter escape her lips. Envisaging a lifetime of diplomatic disasters leavened by laughter wasn’t so hard at all right then—if Lysander was the one sharing with her the drama and the intimate jokes for two. “Of course he didn’t—and if he has one now he’s probably still aiming it at Mikhail.”

  “That’s a relief. Leave it to me,” he murmured with an infinitesimal wink.

  She smiled and nodded, almost without movement. They moved towards the gangplank now connecting the two royal yachts.

  Sander had felt the axe hovering over his head ever since Mari had discovered he wasn’t a chauffeur, but like an idiot, he’d chosen to ignore it—to live the half-lie another day, another minute. Unable to stand seeing the admiration, the joy in his company fade from those lovely eyes, he hadn’t been able to make himself do it.

  And he was about to pay for it. Mikhail would make certain of that. So far he’d kept silent as those in precedence spoke—Charlie hugging her and Jazmine asking about her time away—but, his face taut and his eyes hard, Sander knew Mikhail was just biding his time.

  “Can you do something about those poor donkeys?” Mari was asking Charlie, her gaze pleading. If she’d looked at him like that Sander would have agreed to standing on his head. He was totally besotted—and counting the seconds until he lost her. He’d planned on winning. If Mikhail hadn’t come…

  Charlie looked torn. “It’s not my country, Mari—but I can try to work it into a speech somewhere,” he added hastily, as his cousin’s eyes shimmered.

  Mari threw her arms around the King of Hellenia. “You’re the best cousin in the world—and I would have said it even if you weren’t a king,” she added with impish generosity.

  Charlie chuckl
ed and lightly buffed her chin. “I know, Mariela. You’ve been saying it since I chased the dog off that bedraggled old cat you loved when you were six.”

  “And I’ve always meant it.” She buried her face in Charlie’s neck.

  Sander watched, fascinated. The dynamics of an ordinary family wasn’t something that had come his way. Seeing the common man inside the King of Hellenia made him respect Charlie more. He didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t, and the innate strength of his background and family ties made him a monarch people could relate to and trust.

  Sander saw the same half-hungry fascination in Mikhail’s eyes, and the amused contempt he used to cover his true emotion. He realised Mikhail did care for Mari, but had no idea how to be honest with her, or how to play any part but the prince. His inner helplessness at failing to win her had made him just as angry at himself as at Mari, Charlie and Jazmine—

  Mari smiled at him from her cousin’s shoulder, sharing her joy with Sander over the hopeful salvation of those poor donkeys.

  Drumroll, please…the guillotine blade was in place…

  “So, are you going to marry my daughter after compromising her in this public fashion?” Mari’s father demanded of Sander in a mild yet inflexible tone. “The press knows where you’ve both been—and alone.”

  “Stop it, Dad,” Mari murmured, her tone as imperative as it was anguished. “Nothing happened.”

  “You were alone with a single man for days, touring the islands—and at night,” her father replied, in a parental this ends the argument tone. “I will protect your reputation, Mariela—and the reputation of our family,” he added, flicking a glance at Charlie.

  In answer, Mari looked to where Mikhail stood, furious and silent. The irony in her expression couldn’t be clearer.

  “They were hardly alone, Uncle Taki,” Charlie protested, just as mildly, his voice filled with respect for his uncle. “Jazmine and I made certain Mari was protected at all times.”