A Wish and a Wedding

by Margaret Way

  She stared at him. “Nothing will change my upbringing. I’m a commoner. You’re a blue-blood.”

  “My mother said you were blinding yourself to who I really am.” Impatiently he grabbed at a letter-opener from the exquisite Chippendale desk behind him and pierced his thumb. “What colour is that?” he snarled, pointing at the droplet of blood welling from the cut. “If it was blue, I’d be dead.”

  Mari sighed and shook her head.

  “The problem was never the title, was it?” he asked, a vast sadness filling him. “I’ve done all I can to prove to you that we’re not so far apart as you think, but in the end it’s down to you. When did you first feel you weren’t as good as anyone else? When did you start to believe that no matter what you did you were replaceable, unworthy of love and a happy life?”

  In her sweet eyes there was honest bewilderment. “It isn’t that, Lysander. I want to be loved, to be married—but I miss my life at home. I miss Australia, and the freedom to be me, to make mistakes without being watched. If I marry you, I’ll never have it back. How could we visit my life, the life I still love and will always miss?”

  The grey mists filling him suddenly parted as he understood. “The same way the Crown Prince and Princess of Denmark do. They didn’t build themselves a palace in Tasmania, did they? They stay with her family and eat at the local pubs, visit her old haunts.”

  “With the press there with them all the way,” she sighed.

  He nodded and shrugged. “I’m sorry, Mari, but that’s a fact of life for you for the rest of your life—no matter who you marry. You’re the King’s cousin. But you can either run from it—pretend it doesn’t exist, as I did with my life—or you make it work for you, as Frederik and Mary do, by making everyone love you. The press love Mary’s origins, and the fact that she’s never tried to be anyone but herself.” Slowly, he added, “As they love Charlie, Lia and Toby. The ordinary royals—the fairy tale come to life. The people and the press lap it up, because it makes the nobility human.” One step, two; he lifted a hand, and as if mesmerised Mari took it in hers, bringing it to her lips, kissing his skin with tender hunger. So long since she’d been so close, so loving… The thrill of joy that always came at her touch ran through his whole body. “The people love your family, Mari,” he muttered, husky with his need for her. “And they love you for all you do for the country—always giving, without asking for anything in return. Has anyone mentioned your origins to you when you help the country? Has anyone said you don’t deserve your title, or that you’re not good enough for me?”

  Mari frowned. “No, of course they haven’t. I’m the King’s cousin.”

  Her palm-kisses were making him crazy to have more. Impatient with her lack of self-worth, he retorted, “It has nothing to do with Charlie. They love you for who you are—just as they love your whole family. The whole country knows by now that I want to marry you, yet there hasn’t been one word of dissent. They’re all waiting for the announcement, to join in the celebrations. You’re my duchess already, in everyone’s eyes but your own.”

  Still kissing his palm and fingers, she glanced up, startled. Rethinking her life. He waited for her to readjust.

  “Lysander,” she whispered, clinging to his hand. “Is that true?”

  He understood what she hadn’t asked. “My mother’s waiting outside with the family ring, eros mou—the Persolis engagement ring. She adores you, and can’t wait to welcome you to the family.” When she didn’t answer, but stood there dazed, he wound his fingers through hers. “Can I ask her in?”

  Mari bit her lip, trying to dampen the hope that leaped into her eyes.

  It was time to give her a tiny push. “All I have to do is call her phone once.”

  A breath shivered out of her. She frowned again. “Lysander…I don’t know…”

  It was his turn to lift her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm, her fingers, with lingering, loving sweetness as he said the words he’d fought against for months. He had to say them now, for her sake, because he truly loved her and wanted her to be happy.

  “Tell me you don’t love me, Mari. Look in my eyes and tell me you don’t love me, that I’m not worth the life changes you’d have to make for me, and I’ll make it all go away. You’ll have your quiet life back in Australia. I’ll never see you again.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut, and he held his breath, counting the moments. Did she love him as he loved her? Had he gambled her life on an empty premise?

  Then, finally, she spoke. “I adore you,” she whispered, “but if you ever manipulate me like that again I’ll have to kill you.”

  With a shout of happiness, Sander snatched her into his arms and kissed her, hard and hungry. “I won’t have to,” he murmured between kisses. “You think I don’t know you’re going to arrange the rest of my life?” he added with a wicked grin.

  She laughed and snuggled in to him. “Did you really have to rope in all my relatives, as well as the Diplomatic Corps?”

  He chuckled and kissed her hair. “What can I say? You’re a strong-minded woman. It only took over a hundred against one for an entire year before you finally gave in.” He lifted her chin, making her look at him. “Say it, Mari.”

  She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I love you, Lysander. I’ll marry you, have your children…and, yes, I probably will run the rest of your life,” she added, eyes twinkling with happy self-knowledge.

  “My mother will be very relieved to know that,” he said solemnly, his eyes dancing.

  “Your mother is very relieved.” An amused voice came from the doorway. “I beg your pardon, but I’ve been waiting for you both to notice me these past few minutes.”

  Mari ran to the Duchess. “Kat,” she whispered, and hugged her.

  Kat held her tenderly. “Good girl. I’m glad you didn’t make it easy for him. Lysander needs a real woman with strong principles. You chose well, Lysander.” She smiled at her son, then turned back to Mari. “Now you really have become my daughter.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered into the floral-scented embrace.

  “No, I thank you, darling girl. Thank you for making this past year worthwhile, for becoming the Duchess he needs before you said yes.” The old Duchess smiled at her. “That’s what you were doing the past year, wasn’t it—taking royal lessons as your cousins did, making sure you could sustain the life and the pressures that would come with being Lysander’s wife?”

  Startled by her insight, at her ripping aside all the other issues to find her core insecurity, Mari nodded and flicked a glance at Lysander. The pride and love in his smile turned her insides to honey-mush. Glad as she was for such a loving mother-in-law, she couldn’t wait…

  “What am I thinking?” the Duchess laughed, and hugged her again. “A newly engaged couple want to be alone, and I keep talking. Here you are, son.” She pressed a small box into Lysander’s hand. “I’ll keep your secret for exactly an hour. If you’re not out and announcing your engagement by then, expect the room to be invaded.”

  She closed the door behind her; Lysander gave her that smile, and Mari ran into his arms. “Fifty-nine minutes of kissing,” she murmured. He laughed and set the alarm on his watch, and neither said anything more—for exactly fifty-nine minutes.

  EPILOGUE

  The Summer Palace, four months later

  IT WAS enough to make her believe in fairy tales…but this was her happy ending…

  “Are you happy, eros mou?” Magnificent in a dark tuxedo, Lysander put his arm around her waist as they stood on the balcony usually reserved for royalty only. The intense interest of the people and press in the Duke and new Ambassador (he’d eventually decided to take the posting, at Mari’s urging) and his commoner Duchess—already gaining the respect of the diplomatic world with her caring and her need to help—had led to this unprecedented move.

  “I don’t think I could possibly be any happier.” Mari stood beside her husband of one hour in a wedding gown made by Europe’s foremost ne
w designer, emeralds and diamonds at ears, throat, wrists and fingers. They were on the balcony where she’d watched her cousins greet their people. Now she was the one waving and throwing flowers down to the smiling, cheering crowd, and she knew they were her people too.

  She, Mari Mitsialos, was a duchess, an ambassador’s wife—but though both those things were important, they paled beside the core truth: she was going to be beside the man she loved for life.

  The past four months had taught her how true it was: titles didn’t make people; people either made a title or lowered it. She’d worked hard—learning diplomatic language, meeting the people of Persolis and discovering their needs. She was still learning how to be a duchess from Kat, but she’d had the intense satisfaction of seeing her parents and her mother-in-law having fun meeting in the middle of their different lives. And though she and Lysander were both busy, they made time for each other every day, working in and around each other’s schedule. She’d learned to treasure a brief glance, a moment’s touch of hands—but for the next month, on the royal island, they’d just be a couple in love, and finally alone…

  “Mari! Mari!” the people chanted, throwing roses to her. One made it high enough; Lysander caught it and, with a loving smile, handed it to his bride. She kissed the crimson bloom and laid it against her heart. The cheers deafened her; the popping of flashes grew more intense.

  “You know what they want—exactly what I want,” Lysander murmured, pride and love in his voice; and, in the joy overflowing from a heart bursting with happiness, she laid the rose on the balcony and turned into his arms.

  As they kissed the roar of the crowd grew, and then went quiet—or maybe it was just that she couldn’t hear anything, see or feel anything but Lysander. Duke or Ambassador, he was just Lysander to her—the man she adored—and she was his bride, his wife.

  She was truly blessed.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-6027-0

  A WISH AND A WEDDING

  First North American Publication 2010.

  Copyright © 2010 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

  MASTER OF MALLARINKA

  Copyright © 2008 by Margaret Way Pty., Ltd.

  TOO ORDINARY FOR THE DUKE?

  Copyright © 2010 by Lisa Chaplin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at Customer_eCare@Harlequin.ca.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.eHarlequin.com