Best Friend to Princess Bride

by Katrina Cudmore

  Edwin inhaled a deep breath. ‘My father quietly passed a new piece of legislation last year on succession in Monrosa. From now on, only a married individual can be sovereign.’

  Kara tilted her head and gave a small exhale of puzzlement. ‘What does that mean?’

  Doubt and misgivings and fear stirred like a trinity of foreboding inside him. He wasn’t into relationships, never mind marriage—there was too much expectation around the need for love and intimacy. And Edwin’s heart was too closed to ever risk loving another person again. Was he really prepared to enter into the minefield of marriage because it was his duty to do so? That question was easily answered. His destiny was to be crowned Sovereign Prince. He owed it to his country, his family, his people. ‘I have to marry or my aunt, my father’s sister, Princess Maria, will succeed to the throne.’

  Kara laid her head against the headrest and let out a heavy, disbelieving breath. ‘You’re getting married.’ She looked away, out to the grey and abandoned-looking industrial estate on the opposite side of the road, her hair obscuring her face.

  ‘That’s why I’m here today, to tell you. There’s something I need...’

  Before he could say anything more Kara twisted back to him, shifting in her seat and giving him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. Who’s the lucky woman and when is it all going to happen?’ Then with a brief laugh she added, ‘No wonder you disappeared off the face of the earth for the past month. I thought you were caught up with work and royal duty, not planning the wedding of the year.’

  ‘My father intends on announcing his abdication next Thursday. The coronation date of the next monarch is already arranged—it will take place on the first of June.’

  ‘So you have to be married by then?’ Not waiting for him to respond, Kara said, ‘That’s just over two months away. So who are you going to marry? Are you already engaged? Is the wedding date set?’

  Another police car, siren blaring, passed on their inside. He waited for the sound to fade out before he said, ‘Earlier I said I needed your help...’

  Kara waited for him to continue. After years of embracing bachelorhood, his brain was still struggling to keep up with the new reality his father had decided to foist on him.

  Folding her arms, Kara said, ‘Please don’t tell me you want me to be your best woman or something like that. I’m sure Luis can manage to behave himself for once and deliver a fitting best man’s speech. And if not, I’m sure Ivo could be persuaded. Eventually.’

  Did she really think he would become engaged to someone else without forewarning her or at least telling her he was heading in that direction? ‘No! Not that. What I want to ask you...’ he paused, gave her an uneasy smile that did nothing to diminish her unimpressed scowl ‘... I want to ask you to marry me. I want you to be my wife.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  HAD SHE BANGED her head earlier, when she had fallen? She could have sworn Edwin had just asked her to marry him. Was she suffering severe confusion as a result of concussion?

  A loud rapping on Edwin’s window made them both jump. Domenico was standing there and gesturing ahead, pointing out that the traffic in front had moved on and now Edwin was holding things up.

  Nodding, Edwin pulled away.

  Kara studied him, and it felt as though she was truly seeing him for the first time in ages. Was this man—this prince, this soon-to-be sovereign—actually asking her to marry him? His concentration was on the road ahead, his mouth pulled into a tight line, a hint of colour in his high cheekbones.

  She laughed and said, ‘Nice joke, Edwin. Now, why don’t you tell me who you’re really going to marry?’

  He darted a look in her direction, the cleft in his jaw more pronounced than usual. He was seriously hacked off. ‘I wouldn’t joke about asking you to marry me. Surely you know that?’

  Yes, she did. Edwin wasn’t cruel. He was honourable and selfless. But right now she was grasping at straws in a bid to try to make sense of this conversation.

  ‘I’m serious, Kara. I’d like you to be my wife.’

  ‘Wow. I never thought I’d be so lucky as to be proposed to somewhere as romantic as a gridlocked dual carriageway on a gloomy Sunday in March.’

  ‘I promise you a nice honeymoon.’

  Kara laughed. ‘Have you completely lost your mind?’

  ‘Remember the time you rang me in the middle of the night and said that if we both got to thirty and were still single then we should marry?’

  Oh, God, she’d hoped he had forgotten about that.

  ‘I was tipsy and emotional at a friend’s wedding. I wasn’t being serious. I’m not interested in marrying.’ In the immediate years after witnessing her parents’ marriage implode, she had steered well clear of any relationship that could end so painfully. So she had dated guys who she knew wouldn’t hang around, and for a while that had suited her fine. But after graduating, with her family home sold and living alone in Brighton because of work, she had craved stability and closeness. She had thought Nick was the answer to her embarrassing hunger for intimacy and she had embraced their relationship like someone famished. But his early attentiveness had slowly morphed into claustrophobic controlling behaviour and had once and for all firmly convinced her a single life was preferable to the minefield of relationships and the hurt they spawned. Now, folding her arms, she pointed out, ‘And anyway, I’m not thirty yet.’

  ‘In six months you are.’

  ‘Thanks for the reminder.’ She had a good life, one that was hard fought for after years of uncertainty and grief—supportive friends, a career that gave her meaning, and, most important of all, an uncomplicated personal life that left her free to focus on work, and work alone. Why, then, did hurtling towards thirty leave her with a nagging sense of unease? Was it the frustration of knowing there was an ever-increasing demand for the charity’s services both in the United Kingdom and abroad? She desperately wanted to do more. There was so much work to be done in addressing mental-health issues and educating both young people and those who supported them about dealing with matters before they got out of control. Was it this constant feeling of not doing enough that left her unsettled as she faced her thirtieth birthday?

  At a pedestrian crossing on a suburban street, Edwin stopped to allow a young man pushing a pram and holding hands with a little girl to cross the road. Kara shared sporadic phone conversations with her parents and usually they were short and revolved around the weather, but a few months ago her mum had surprised her when she asked her what she thought Michael would have been doing by now? Would he have had a career in political activism, as he had dreamed? Would he have been married? Had children? And after the call, she had sat in the silence of her apartment and wondered once again if she could have prevented Michael from dying.

  Her gaze shifted to Edwin. He had been her constant, her steadying influence over the past decade. His marriage proposal was not only insane but it was also sending a tidal wave of uncertainty into her life when she had thought she had finally got a handle on it. ‘There must be a long line of more suitable women out there—shouldn’t you be trying to forge some strategic alliance, or whatever it is you royals do?’

  Edwin waited until he had pulled into her street and found a parking space before he answered. ‘I need to marry someone I can trust.’

  Killing the engine, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned and regarded her with that regal look of his that spoke of pride and honour. ‘And there’s no one I trust more in life than you.’

  Her heart catching at the sincerity of his voice, she unbuckled her own belt. ‘That’s not exactly a solid basis for a marriage, though, is it? I’m sure you trust Domenico and Lucas but you’re not about to marry one of them.’

  Edwin eyed her with a raised eyebrow. ‘I can’t. They’re both married. And there isn’t time for them to get divorced. I need to anno
unce my engagement before Thursday; my father is insistent on announcing his abdication then.’

  Domenico came alongside the car. Edwin nodded that they were ready to go into Kara’s flat. Reaching for the handle of his door, Edwin added, ‘I reckon trust is the most important part of any marriage. At least we have that.’

  Should she tell him that she didn’t want him to come inside? She needed some time and space to make sense of his bombshell proposal. But what was there to think about? There was no way she could marry Edwin.

  Inside her basement apartment, she placed her gym bag in the tiny utility room off the kitchen and went and filled her kettle.

  Turning to Edwin, she said with a sigh, ‘I’m a working-class girl—I have no idea how to be a princess. Even saying the word “princess” feels ridiculous. Me, a princess? No way.’

  ‘The title would be Her Serene Highness, Princess of Monrosa,’ Edwin said, removing his black padded jacket and hanging it on her bulging coat rack.

  ‘See—I didn’t even know what the correct title would be.’

  He shifted the stool he always sat on away from the kitchen counter to allow for the extra-long length of his legs. Sitting, he shrugged. ‘You’re not expected to know royal protocol. None of that is of importance. What is important is that I have a wife I can trust, a wife who understands that what we’ll have is a working marriage. I know how keen you are for the charity to be able to help more people—you could use your status to achieve that.’ Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, ‘I know what it is I’m asking of you, Kara, and I’m not asking it of you lightly. I have spent the past week agonising over whether to do so, but I think we can make it work. Neither of us is looking for romance...at least that’s what you’ve always claimed.’

  His last sentence sounded like a challenge. As though he was testing her constant refrain over the years that marriage was not for her. ‘It isn’t just a love marriage I’m not interested in, Edwin. It’s all types of marriage.’ Filling the teapot with boiling water, she added, ‘I know this might sound a little rich coming from me, given my outlook on love, but you shouldn’t discount love—you’ve never given it a chance. At least I gave it a go. You’ve always ended relationships way too early.’

  Edwin made a grumbling sound and, leaning heavily against the counter, sent a teaspoon clattering across the marble surface. ‘I’m happy being single.’

  Placing four teacups on the counter, Kara stepped back, folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

  Edwin’s gaze narrowed. ‘What?’

  Kara continued to hold his stare.

  ‘Look, I just like to be careful who I trust. You’ve done pretty much the same since Nick,’ he argued.

  ‘Agreed, but then I’m not the one who now needs to marry. Maybe if you had been more open to those few women you actually dated over the years, willing to trust them, then you wouldn’t have to resort to asking your friend to marry you.’

  Edwin stood and, pacing the tiny floor space of her kitchen, raised his hand in exasperation. ‘Like how I trusted Salma Rosucci?’

  Kara winced. ‘I’ll admit it was unfortunate that Salma told the paparazzi you were holidaying together in Sardinia.’ Biting back a smile, she added, ‘On the positive side, the photos they took of you sunbathing cheered up millions of women across Europe.’

  Edwin scowled. Then, walking towards her, he placed a hand on the countertop next to her and asked with quiet pride, ‘Would marrying me be that bad?’

  For a moment something deep inside her wanted to say no, that marrying him would be...would be okay. Better than okay, in fact. She would get to spend her days with him. Would that be such a bad thing? But then logic kicked in. Picking up the teapot, she poured tea into all four cups. ‘The media are going to go crazy.’

  ‘Let them. They’ll soon come to recognise what an incredible person you are.’

  ‘They’ll eat me alive first. I can see the headlines—“Prince Edwin to Marry Builder’s Daughter.” Or how about, “Why is Kara Duffy Marrying Billionaire Prince Edwin?” And what will your family say?’

  ‘Luis and Ivo don’t care about what I do—they’re too busy leading their own lives.’

  ‘And what about your father?’

  ‘He doesn’t have the right to an opinion. He may have forced my hand on marriage but he has no say in who I marry.’

  Kara buried her head in her hands. ‘In other words, he’s not going to be happy when he finds out you’ve chosen me.’ At best Kara would have said his father was indifferent to her whenever she visited the palace, and there were certainly times when he seemed to think she was an annoying creature sent to test his patience. ‘I know he still blames me for that time I went out racing with you both and cost you the competition because I was so seasick we had to go back to the marina.’

  ‘As I’ve said before, don’t take it personally—my father is cantankerous with everyone. Including his own children.’

  ‘But he rarely speaks to me and the last time I visited the palace he called me Salma...not only does he not know my name but he also mistakes me for one of your ex-girlfriends. Does he know you want to marry me?’

  ‘No.’

  A thought snaked its way into her brain. ‘Asking me to marry you wouldn’t be your way of getting back at your father, would it?’

  Unbelievably he grinned at that. ‘I hadn’t thought of it that way, but it could be an added bonus.’

  Shaking her head at the constant tension that existed between Edwin and his father, she pushed a cup along the counter towards him. ‘I’d almost be tempted to say yes, just to witness first-hand how you and your father manage the succession; you’ll drive each other insane with your alpha-male jostling.’

  She carried the other two cups to the front door.

  Edwin followed her. ‘Alpha-male jostling. Where the hell did you get that idea from?’

  She laughed at his indignation. ‘It’s a constant battle between you two—can’t you see that? You and your father are too alike—that’s why you clash. You both always want to be in control, the decision maker, the leader.’

  He gave her a disbelieving look. ‘No, we clash because my father is stubborn and work obsessed.’ Indicating the teacups, he added, ‘You know, you really don’t need to give tea to Domenico and Lucas.’

  ‘So you pointed out the last time you visited, and the time before that. And several times before that too. I hate the thought of them sitting out there in the cold with nothing to drink.’

  Unlatching the door, instead of standing aside to allow her to go outside, Edwin took the cups from her. ‘I’ll bring them out—you should be resting. And making tea for the protection team will be a definite no when you’re a princess.’

  ‘I hate to point out the obvious, but I haven’t agreed to be a princess.’

  He gave her a grin. ‘Not yet. But you will.’

  He stepped outside. She called out, ‘And you think your father’s stubborn,’ before going into the sitting room, where she turned on some table lamps against the fading light of the day and then lit the fire before going back into the kitchen to fetch their teacups.

  Back in the hallway, she met Edwin on his way back in and she gestured for him to follow her into the sitting room.

  She took a seat on the occasional chair beside the fire. Edwin carried a low stool from beneath the window and placed it before her. She lifted her leg onto the stool, wincing at the tightness that gripped her thigh.

  Edwin sat on the sofa facing the fire, tucking a leg under himself, an arm running along the back of the navy sofa that was too small for his bulk. The flames from the fire cast shadows on his face. And then his eyes met hers. Silently he waited for her answer.

  ‘I can’t marry you, Edwin.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Where do I start? My background. What if something goes wrong? I like bei
ng your friend. I don’t want to lose that.’

  He shifted forward in his seat, his eyes holding hers all the time. ‘I promise never to hurt you.’

  Edwin always kept his word, but what if he couldn’t do so in this instance? Sometimes, despite their best intentions, people hurt each other. Not in a deliberate way like Nick, but purely due to human fragility. Look at what had happened between her parents. At first Kara had stood on the sidelines, bewildered and frightened, watching their pain and guilt and dismay over losing Michael destroy their love for one another. They had once loved each other. She was certain of that. But just not enough to counter the tsunami of grief losing Michael had caused. Her dad had looked to her mum for support, but she had pushed him away. Day after day she had watched her mum turn her back on her dad, grow more remote and uninterested in everything, while her dad had become more desperate, constantly trying to get through to her, to make things okay. Eventually, and not surprisingly, her dad had stopped trying, and had become bitter and defensive. It was the speed of it all that still astounded her: within weeks their family life had been stripped away and they were behaving no differently to three strangers living under one roof.

  ‘What are you most scared of?’

  She stared into the fire, considering his question, and then studied her ring-free fingers. Nick had given her a ring to mark their anniversary of dating for a year. He used to sulk when she didn’t wear it. She hadn’t worn a ring for years. The thought of even doing so now made her wince.

  She understood why it was so important to Edwin to marry and she hated not being in the position to help him on this one occasion that he had asked for her support, so, despite the tightness in her throat, the wave of vulnerability rolling through her, no matter how sickening it was to have to rake up old memories, the least he deserved was her honesty. ‘I’m scared of feeling suffocated, losing myself in a relationship, even in a marriage of convenience.’

  ‘I’m not following.’