by Anne Fraser
“Both.”
Time froze under his tender assault. The nightgown she’d purchased that morning disappeared, unneeded and unwanted. Each long stroke, every caress pulled her deeper under his magical spell. Oh, yes, she managed to think…their marriage may have been born out of duty and would be scrutinized by many, but nights like this were not a mistake.
“Your Highness, you must allow me to prepare your breakfast.”
Caught in the act of pouring a packet of instant oatmeal into a bowl, Gina smiled at Henri, who’d burst into the kitchen with a look of horror on his face. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m perfectly able to fix my own.”
“Of course you are, but it is my pleasure to serve you,” the chef said smoothly as he waved her aside. “Would you like toast, fresh fruit, bacon and eggs to accompany this?”
“Just the oatmeal,” she told him. “And a refill of this.” She raised her mug. “It’s the best I’ve ever tasted.”
When she’d awoken that morning, she’d only seen Ruark’s indented pillow and a cup of coffee on her nightstand. She normally didn’t take time to brew any at home before she reported for her shift and, in fact, didn’t need the shot of caffeine to start her day, but having a cup ready and waiting when her eyes popped open would definitely spoil her.
Henri beamed as he grabbed the pot and topped up her cup. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll bring your breakfast to the dining room shortly.”
Clearly dismissed, Gina meandered into the dining room and sat at the huge banquet-sized table. Within minutes Henri delivered a bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with fresh blueberries. He’d also brought a plate of assorted fruit and two slices of whole wheat toast cut in perfect triangles, as well as the morning newspaper.
“Let me know if I can prepare anything else, Your Highness.”
“This will be all. Tell me, has Ruark already eaten?”
“Hours ago, ma’am. He’s an early riser,” Henri explained. “I heard him mention he had correspondence to attend to, so I’m certain he’s in his den if you’re wondering where to find him.”
She was, but didn’t want to interrupt him. “Thank you, Henri.”
Accustomed to eating alone, she perused the headlines, ate half of what Henri had supplied, then headed for her bedroom. She hadn’t made the bed or tidied the room yet, and she still had two suitcases’ worth of clothes to unpack.
To her surprise, she found a woman her own age performing all the chores Gina had planned to do after breakfast. The bed was made, the room tidied, and her suitcases were open and half-empty.
“You didn’t need to do this for me!” Gina exclaimed, disconcerted to have someone else doing such personal tasks.
“It is my job, Your Highness. I’m happy to do it. I am Inga, by the way. I usually come three days a week to help Mrs Armstrong, but now I’ll be here every day.”
Mrs Armstrong was the kindly housekeeper responsible for the house’s pristine condition, which couldn’t have been easy considering the number of people who lived and worked on the property. While Gina was glad the woman had help and Inga had a full-time job, she hoped no one thought she was too lazy to lend a hand or, worse, had extremely high housekeeping standards. As far as she was concerned, a house wasn’t complete without several dust bunnies in residence.
Gina watched Inga hang up a pink blouse in the closet. “Thank you, Inga,” she said politely. “I’ll try not to make too much of a mess for you. Meanwhile, I’ll get out of your way.”
“The garden flowers are lovely right now,” Inga commented. “Perhaps you’d like to see them before the day gets too hot?”
She couldn’t hang around the kitchen or her bedroom, and she didn’t want to interrupt Ruark, so strolling around the yard seemed a good idea. If she was lucky, she might even find a few weeds to pull. “I will.”
But outside the rose bushes were perfectly pruned, the zinnias, petunias, and vinca were well watered, and the small herb garden beautifully tended. Not a weed was in sight, thanks to the two employees who sported Gary’s Gardens on the back of their uniform shirts.
She sank onto a wicker chair under the covered patio and studied the professionally landscaped yard, wondering what she would do for the next three days. Monday wouldn’t come soon enough to suit her. At least at the hospital, she had a place. In Ruark’s home, she was beginning to feel like a useless ornament.
A few minutes later, her new husband strolled outside. “Here you are.”
“Yup, here I am,” she replied.
He sat in the chair opposite hers. “Have you found your way around? Met all the staff?”
“Oh, yes. They’re delightful. Very helpful and eager to serve.” That was the problem. She wasn’t used to having her every whim catered to. It would take some time to adjust, especially being referred to as “Your Highness”.
“Good.” He placed her well-used electronic PDA in front of her—the same one she carried in her pocket as a reference guide for all sorts of treatment protocols and drug information. “I apologize for taking this off your dresser without your permission this morning, but you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you.”
She hadn’t noticed but, then, she hadn’t looked for it either. “No problem.”
“My secretary updated the calendar with our social engagements. I thought we could review them together.”
She navigated the screen to reach the current month. “An interview with Modern Marestonians.” She glanced at him. “In two days?”
“The magazine is a sort of cross between your Country Living and People. It has a large readership and their reporters tend to be quite congenial. Perfect for your first interview.”
“Thanks,” she said wryly, then glanced down at the screen again. “A charity event on Friday night?”
“For family crisis centers in the state,” he explained. “The numbers of safe havens for victims of domestic violence and their children isn’t meeting the demand, unfortunately.”
After seeing many of those victims in the ER, the subject was dear to Gina’s heart, and she approved of his decision to support the cause. She glanced at the next entry.
“A ribbon-cutting ceremony?”
“For a regional burns center in Chicago.”
“Chicago? That’s hours away.”
“Not by private plane,” he informed her. “It won’t take any longer than if we drove across town.”
Ribbon-cuttings, jetting around the Midwest, an official royal event every week. Obviously his princely duties rolled around more than the few times a year as he’d originally claimed, and she said so.
“We’ll be busy for a while because we’re news at the moment,” he admitted. “Before long, we’ll be usurped by an actress arrested for driving under the influence or a politician divorcing his wife because he’s gay.”
His light-hearted reassurance coaxed a grin out of her. “Do you think we’ll be that lucky?”
“Count on it.” His tone grew serious. “Just remember, I’ll be right beside you.”
“You’d better be,” she warned, “because I don’t have a clue what to say.”
“I’ll handle it,” he promised. “All you have to do is look beautiful and smile like a blushing bride.”
A blushing bride. She chose not to point out that brides blushed as a result of their husband’s love and as that emotion didn’t apply… But considering how far out of her depth she was, she hoped a reporter would attribute her uncertainty at being in the spotlight to her newlywed status.
“Any questions?” he asked.
“About this interview on Sunday,” she began. “What sort of questions will she ask?”
“As no one in our country really knows you, she’ll be interested in your childhood, your parents, your education. And, of course, in light of events back home, she’ll want to see how we’re reconciling the past with the present. Just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.”
“So you say,” she muttered.
“It will
get easier,” he assured her. “I’m fortunate in that my life is really quite boring in comparison to the rest of the royal family’s, so the press normally leaves me alone. As soon as talk of our wedding dies down, we’ll be practically invisible.”
Being invisible couldn’t come soon enough, Gina thought as she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror on Sunday afternoon. Ever since the announcement of their marriage, gifts had flooded into their home and Ruark’s secretary had been inundated with requests for photos and interviews. To her relief, he freely supplied pictures and rarely granted an audience. She hoped to survive today’s session without incident.
It was important for everything to go well because so much rested on the way she presented herself as Ruark’s wife. The news from Avelogne and Marestonia over the past couple of days had shown two countries in a state of uncertainty. The mood ranged from hopeful to skeptical about the alliance between their two royal houses, but the violence had stopped, which the political gurus took as a positive sign. However, Gina hadn’t needed Ruark or the Marestonian ambassador to tell her how fragile the peace actually was. It was her job during today’s interview to convince everyone of their modern-day fairy-tale romance.
A tall order considering how Ruark scoffed at the concept of love and they’d simply married to fulfill a duty.
Duty, not love.
Suddenly, guilt crashed down on her. The past nights in his bed had been wonderful, spectacular even, but they weren’t in love. What did it say about her character, her morals, if she could find such enjoyment in the arms of a man who didn’t feel anything for her?
Worse yet, what did it say about her character if she could do the same?
Her guilt turned to horrified shame as she considered how easily she’d succumbed to his charm.
“My, but you look beautiful.” Ruark came from the bathroom and adjusted his tie.
Staggering under the weighty question that plagued her, she managed to answer. “Thanks.”
He stopped beside her, tall and handsome in his dark gray suit, his frown plain in the mirror’s reflection. “What’s wrong? Do you feel all right?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. As fine as any woman who saw a distasteful quality inside herself.
His frown didn’t disappear as he felt her forehead. “You don’t look fine.”
“Thank you very much for your observation,” she said dryly.
“I’m serious. If you’re getting sick, you should rest. We can reschedule.”
The warmth of his fingers calmed her as much as his obvious concern did, and her momentary guilt and shame vanished. Regardless of the practical reasons behind their marriage, they were married. Being married, for better or worse, made it pointless not to find joy in their relationship wherever they could.
She may not feel the grand passion she’d always imagined, but she trusted him, respected him, and enjoyed his company. She had nothing to feel ashamed about. And, if she was honest with herself, he was a man she could easily grow to love.
Oh, who was she kidding? Her intuition said she was halfway there.
As for Ruark, he may not love her, but he clearly cared about her. She’d seen him express concern under a veneer of polite interest—his royal persona—but this was different. His worry was genuine and obviously heartfelt if the look on his face was anything to go by. It might not be the stuff of hearts and roses, but for now it was enough. And with time and patience it might eventually grow into something close to what her parents had.
“No, don’t reschedule. I’m just…nervous, I guess. When I think of how our every expression and tone will be scrutinized…”
“Act naturally and the reporter will simply see a happily married couple who’ve given up a few hours of their precious honeymoon to share their story.”
She laughed. “Precious?”
“When you only have three days, every moment counts. Seriously, though, just be yourself.”
“Be myself. Got it,” she said, pretending confidence when she had none. “But she’ll be sorely disappointed once she realizes I think and act like a physician, not a princess.”
“But now you are both. I think this will help.” He strode across the room to his dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a large, square jeweler’s box. “For you.”
Her heart pounded with excitement. “What is it?”
“A gift from my parents.”
“Your parents? It isn’t a tiara or some other princessy thing, is it?” she asked suspiciously, wondering if she’d commit a horrible breach of royal etiquette if she refused to wear it for their interview.
He laughed. “Tiaras are reserved for state events so, no, it isn’t. This, however, is something I hope you’ll like. It arrived last night.” As she hesitated, he urged, “Go ahead. Open it.”
She raised the hinged lid to reveal a sparkling teardrop diamond pendant resting on a bed of velvet. She may have had a novice eye when it came to gems, but the size suggested it was horribly expensive. “It’s beautiful.”
He removed the pendant from the box, then fastened the silver chain around her neck. “This was my mother’s. She asks you to wear it with her blessing. My father gave it to her on the day I was born.”
Touched by the generosity of his mother, tears threatened to fall as she fingered the diamond’s facets. “It’s gorgeous. Thank you, and thank your mother for sharing it with me.”
“I’m glad you like it.” His smile seemed rooted in relief, as if he’d been afraid she would reject a gift that held special significance to him and his family. “But I’ll let you thank her yourself.”
“I will.” She’d spoken to Ruark’s parents the morning after their wedding when they’d welcomed her into the family. Their voices had been warm and sincere, and Gina was looking forward to meeting the couple in person, as well as the rest of Ruark’s family.
“She’s quite anxious for a lengthy chat,” he added. “Probably so she can warn you about all my bad habits.”
So far, she hadn’t noted a single one but, then, they’d only been living together for three days. “Gracious.” She pretended horror. “How many do you have?”
“Hundreds, I’m sure. Probably more, depending on who you ask.” He grinned.
“Regardless of what she tells me, I’ll always treasure this,” she said before she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips lightly against his for just long enough to taste the coffee on his breath.
A lazy half-smile appeared on his face and his eyes gleamed with masculine appreciation. “Remind me to give gifts more often,” he said in a lazy drawl. “Even if they aren’t my own.”
She chuckled at his hopeful expression. “Don’t push your luck.”
“At the risk of spoiling the moment, after we talk to my parents tonight, your grandmother would appreciate a phone call.”
She stiffened instinctively. “I’m sure she would, but I’m not ready.”
“You don’t have to agree to meet her. Just talk.”
“I wouldn’t know what to say.”
“You could start by thanking her for the gift she sent.”
A white linen tablecloth had arrived, exquisitely hand-stitched with the royal crests from both families. It was beautiful, a true work of textile art, and a host of poor souls had probably worked round the clock to create it once she’d agreed to marry Ruark. Either that, or her grandmother had been so certain of the outcome to the royal plan that she’d commissioned it some months ago.
“I’ll send a card.”
“She wants to visit—at our convenience, of course.”
“Sometimes life doesn’t give us what we want.”
“You can’t hold a grudge forever.”
“I don’t have a grudge. I don’t feel…anything.” As far as Gina was concerned, she might share a gene pool with the woman, but she was simply a name. Another famous person she would never meet. A complete stranger.
A few short days ago, so was Ruark.
Yes
, and look where that had gotten her. She was now his wife.
She slowly exhaled, feeling Ruark’s scrutiny. “I appreciate you acting as a mediator, but I’m not ready,” she repeated. “She’ll have to be content that I agreed to their plan when I could have ignored Avelogne’s problems.”
He started to speak, then stopped as if he knew she wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he pushed. “It’s your decision, but keep in mind she isn’t getting any younger.”
She would have replied, but the doorbell chimed in the distance. Adrenaline surged and panic instantly set in. “Oh, my gosh. She’s here, and she’s early.”
Ruark threaded her arm through his and pulled her close. “Look at it this way. You’ll have less time to brood.”
“Brood? I don’t brood. It makes me sound like a chicken,” she mumbled as he led her into the hallway toward the staircase.
“You aren’t a chicken,” he agreed. “You’re braver than that.”
“Do you think so?”
“Absolutely.”
She stopped at the top of the stairs. “Maybe I should change into something more sophisticated, less—”
He tugged on her arm and she followed. “You look fantastic.”
Three steps later, she stopped again. “What if she asks a question I can’t answer?”
“Squeeze my hand and I’ll take over.”
“Any other final bits of advice?”
“Remember to smile and look like you adore me.”
He winked playfully, and she burst out laughing. “If you insist. One case of adoration coming up.”
By the time Ruark had gotten Gina to the bottom of the staircase, he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do—he’d wiped the startled doe-in-the-headlights look off her face. Louise Amandine’s first impression of his wife would show her as a relaxed and happy bride.
As the interview progressed, the experienced reporter was far more interested in Gina than in him, which suited Ruark just fine. People in his part of the world clamored to learn everything possible about the new princess, especially because no one had gleaned more than her basic historical facts. He rather enjoyed sitting next to Gina in the formal parlor, holding her hand like an enamored husband as he listened to her share stories and anecdotes about her childhood and her parents.
