Best Friend to Princess Bride

by Katrina Cudmore

  ‘Our kisses...they’re kind of confusing, aren’t they?’ she said quietly.

  His laughter died. He had no way of explaining them other than as the result of human desire. ‘I guess we’re both young and healthy and it’s been a while since either of us were in a relationship.’

  She nodded eagerly. ‘And the craziness of our situation isn’t helping—maybe subconsciously we think we should be finding each other attractive.’ She stopped, her expression growing horrified. ‘Not that I’m saying you find me attractive—’

  He interrupted her, ‘I think we can at least admit to each other the chemistry between us.’

  Did she really think their subconscious could be fooling them to that extent? But who was he to argue? If she was happy to believe that, then so was he.

  ‘So what do we do about this attraction?’

  Her brow furrowed. ‘I don’t know. Not beat ourselves up too much when it happens, I guess. And, more importantly, not ascribe too much significance to it...the survival of our friendship is what’s important.’

  He inhaled deeply. ‘I don’t ever want to hurt you.’

  She nodded. ‘I guess it’s down to both of us individually to keep everything in perspective—to remember that this is a marriage of convenience thrust upon two people who have no interest in marrying and no desire to marry.’

  He pulled his heel along the soft earth, a deep channel forming in its wake. ‘Before Nick, did you see yourself marrying?’

  She shrugged and scrunched her nose in thought. ‘What happened with my parents put me off...but Nick definitely put a solid nail in the coffin of love and marriage for me.’ She gave a light shiver. ‘I struggle with the idea of trusting someone enough to commit myself to them for ever. I’d hate the vulnerability of that. I’d constantly be watching for a time when they’d try to manipulate me, hurt me. And that’s not fair, is it?’ Pausing, she considered him. ‘You know what, you’ve never really given me a good reason why you’re not interested in marriage?’

  He flattened the channel of earth with the sole of his shoe. ‘I like my own company. I don’t think I’m husband material—I prefer to give my energy to my work.’ Then, standing up, he held out his hand to her. ‘I’d better get you home.’

  She looked at his hand and then looked him straight in the eye. ‘Being single suits some people...but only if it’s for the right reasons.’ Then, standing up too, she tugged him towards the wooden barrier at the edge of the picnic area. ‘I think I can hear the sea.’

  He leant forward, twisting his head. ‘I think I can too. I’ve never heard it before, even in all the times I came here with my mother.’

  She smiled at him, her hand touching his cheek. ‘Thank you for bringing me here, for telling me about your mum. It’s good to know you better.’

  It did feel good to have spoken about his mother. He smiled at how Kara’s eyes were dancing with pleasure, a connection, a spark, a sense of place making him intensely happy. But then, just as quickly as that happiness arrived, it disappeared, the intimacy of the moment making him uneasy. Was he making himself vulnerable by being this open? Was he setting them up for a whole load of heartache when this marriage ended by their being too close to one another?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  MONICA, THE PALACE’S head florist, moved from table to table, adjusting a fraction the elaborate floral arrangements sitting in tall, clear vases at the centre of every table in the ballroom.

  On seeing him, she went to leave, but Edwin gestured for her to stay and finish her work.

  The doors out to the terrace were opened back, the heat of the day drifting into the coolness of the room.

  Beyond the terrace, on the shimmering water, boats in full sail glided through the rolling white-topped waves.

  In two hours he would be married. A husband.

  He turned away from the golden dome of the cathedral.

  The ballroom was a reflection of the view across the harbour. The vast gold chandeliers towering over the tables laden down with gold cutlery and gold-rimmed plates bearing the royal crest mirrored the cathedral’s dome, the olive branches in the floral arrangements the green and silver glimmer of the Mediterranean, the pink blush roses the narrow buildings of the old town.

  Ricardo bustled into the room. Did a double-take when he spotted Edwin.

  ‘Is everything okay, Your Highness?’

  He nodded. ‘I want to ensure everything is in place for the wedding meal later.’ From the moment he had woken this morning he had been feeling off balance. Tetchy and nervous, with a side dollop of a tightness in his throat. Was he coming down with something?

  Last night, talking beneath the stars, kissing...it had all felt too good, too exhilarating. He hadn’t dated for close to two years. No wonder kissing Kara was igniting a fire inside him.

  He needed to get through today. Not overthink it. Which was why he was here, unnecessarily inspecting the ballroom like a nervous housekeeper. Anything to distract him. Kara had left their apartment early this morning, as arranged, to get ready for the ceremony in her parents’ apartment. Unable to stomach breakfast, he had paced the apartment, ready for the ceremony way too early, and even he couldn’t bring himself to work on his wedding day.

  Ricardo cleared his throat. ‘Is everything to your satisfaction?’

  Eucalyptus leaves wound their way up all seven layers of their wedding cake. On top two simple figures crafted from wood stood beneath an arch of intertwined leaves. Kara had asked him if he wanted an input into the cake. He hadn’t. The tightness in his throat intensified. The cake perfectly symbolised their treks into the mountains of Monrosa. He turned to Ricardo. ‘Everything is perfect.’

  Relief washed over Ricardo’s expression. ‘We want to ensure you and Miss Duffy have a wonderful wedding day. We’re all so happy for you. Miss Duffy has been very supportive in the preparations and it will be a pleasure to work for her in the coming years.’

  Behind Ricardo, Luis walked into the room and chuckled. ‘I’m sure Kara will be a dream to work for in comparison to our father.’

  Ricardo flinched, made a non-committal sound and fled from the room.

  Edwin sighed. ‘There was no need for that.’

  Luis shrugged. ‘We’ve been looking everywhere for you. It’s time to go.’

  * * *

  Ivo and his father were waiting for them on the central steps out in the courtyard. Ivo was dressed in the same navy-blue officer dress uniform of the Monrosian army as Luis, their father in the red dress uniform of the Commander of the Forces. Today he was wearing the black officer tunic of the Marines, gold cuffs on the sleeves, gold braiding on the shoulders. Across the tunic he wore the red and white sash representing the Order of St Philip, and pinned to the fabric the gold insignia of the two other Monrosian orders.

  Without preamble they lined up, equidistantly apart. Edwin stood in the centre beside his father, Ivo to his right, Luis to his father’s left.

  At the western apartments, horses and carriages were awaiting Kara and her entourage. He closed his eyes, a wave of gratitude, of affection, of respect for her making him dizzy. How many friends would agree to something this enormous, this public, this life-altering? He had to make this marriage work.

  With a call from their commander, the twelve soldiers flanking them on either side, all in their Sixth Infantry khaki uniforms, led them towards the closed fifteenth-century wooden gates that led out onto the cobbled streets of the city.

  It took four of the household guard to open the gates.

  A wave of sound rolled towards them. The waiting crowd cheered and waved their purple and gold Monrosa flags, aided by the warm summer breeze.

  The clamour, the close scrutiny, the fevered elation of the crowd sent a sickening sensation through him but he continued to walk at the steady beat that had been drilled into him from the moment he could
walk, falling in behind the rest of the Sixth Infantry regiment already waiting outside the palace walls, the Second Regiment falling in behind them.

  They walked down the incline that would take them to the narrow streets of the old town and then on to the harbour front towards Monrosa Cathedral, the cheering swelling.

  He clenched his hands, the happy calls so at odds with the low weeping and murmuring that had accompanied them the last time they had marched together to the cathedral.

  That time, with every step he had taken, his frustration with his father had inched ever higher. Why had he forced them to walk through the crowds to their mother’s funeral? Why had he thought it was the duty of three bereaved children to march, just so the public would have the opportunity to express their grief at the passing of their beloved Princess Cristina?

  The morning of the funeral, he had held Ivo in his arms and had promised that he would not be forced to march. But, despite his arguing fiercely with his father, his father had refused to relent, forcing Ivo to join them.

  That was the day they had lost Ivo to his own impenetrable thoughts.

  For his part, Edwin had been so full of anger and disbelief that he soon realised that to survive he would have to detach himself. Shut down all his emotions. Not react when his father had angrily demanded to know why he and Luis had refused to accompany their mother when she had gone out riding that day with Ivo. Not admit his own anger towards Ivo for insisting they go riding even though their mother had complained of vertigo earlier that day.

  Now they swept through Plaza Nueva, the thunderous applause startling pigeons from the roof of the Tufail Observatory Tower. A dark-haired girl of five or six, perched on her father’s shoulders, waved a cut-out of him and Kara on their engagement day. He smiled at her. She dropped the cut-out, her eyes wide, her mouth a perfect circle of surprise.

  His mother would have loved every moment of this. She wouldn’t have even tried to hide her pride in her husband and three sons’ marching together as one seemingly united family.

  How they had all failed her.

  They turned a sharp right, the open harbour bringing a strong sea breeze and the sight of waves lapping against the quay walls. People hung from the upstairs windows of the quayside cafes, filming the procession on their phones.

  A girl called out her love for Luis. His father sighed loudly.

  At Plaza Santa Ana, the Cardinal of Monrosa was waiting for them on the cathedral steps.

  Inside came welcome near silence apart from the low whispering from the already assembled guests. Edwin’s nose twitched thanks to the heavy scent of incense.

  He was about to follow the cardinal when his father placed a hand on his arm. ‘You can make this work if you want to.’

  He bit back the temptation to laugh.

  Did his father seriously think this forced marriage, already fraying at the edges, could be made to work just to serve his egotistical desire to ensure a future heir?

  He walked away, smiled and nodded his way down the aisle, the beaming grins of Kara’s family, friends and colleagues punching him in the stomach. How many lies had she had to tell on his behalf?

  He took a seat at the top pew.

  Tried to breathe.

  His mother’s casket had sat only feet away from where he sat now.

  He had refused to look at it. Instead he had tilted his head and tried to count the number of flowers on the triptych of stained-glass windows behind the altar. But the disbelief kept dragging him back—to the fact that only four days prior his mother had left to take Ivo horse-riding. He and Luis had been supposed to go too but they had become caught up in a battle to win a game of tennis and had refused to leave. He had vaguely waved his mother goodbye. Hadn’t replied to her departing call to be kind to one another. Her horse had startled and thrown her off, causing a catastrophic head injury.

  Ivo, alone on the isolated trail they had been following within the palace grounds, had raised the alarm on her mobile phone and had frantically carried out the emergency services’ instructions on how to help her, a ten-year-old child, alone, carrying the responsibility for saving his mother.

  Losing her had destroyed them.

  He placed his hands on his knees. Light-headed.

  Time stretched out. His father grumbled at Kara’s lateness.

  Kara was going to walk down the aisle, wasn’t she? What if she had changed her mind?

  His heart boomed in his chest. Only one person, since his mother had died, had settled him—Kara. Her acceptance of him as well as astute challenges to his ways of thinking and behaving, her energy, had freed him.

  Dammit, where was she?

  Cold terror ran through his veins.

  Had he blown it? Had he thrown away their friendship for this farce?

  * * *

  Standing at the bottom of the aisle, while Triona and Siza brought her long train under control, her hands resting on both of her parents’ arms, Kara felt her legs buckle.

  And for a moment a crazy thought passed through her mind at lightning speed.

  What if she spoke out? Right here? Right now? Explained that she couldn’t be the answer to what the media were terming a new era of optimism in Monrosa? Explained she understood the marriage was creating an unprecedented feel-good factor and was being hailed as an example of hope triumphing after the tragedy of the country losing Princess Cristina, but the media’s new near adoration of her, lauding her charity work, describing her relationship with Edwin as the ultimate love story that saw friendship blossom into enduring love, was so far from the truth that she felt as if she was going to burn up in shame?

  What if she explained there definitely would be no babies born to them?

  What if she made it clear this was only a marriage between friends? One that would end one day, but until that happened she would have Edwin’s back and would try her very best to be the princess Monrosa deserved?

  What would happen if she said all that, cleared the air?

  Chaos probably.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  She wanted to say no to her father’s question but instead she nodded yes. Which was a good thing because there was no way she was going to be heard anyway. The cathedral practically shook as the Bridal Chorus boomed from the pipes of the organ positioned on the gallery overhead, the notes flinging themselves against the vast roof of the even vaster cathedral.

  * * *

  Edwin jerked in his seat, music booming against the stone pillars as the organist began to play. The cardinal and his fellow celebrants on the altar looked down the aisle, a smile transforming each of their up-till-now serious expressions.

  Kara had that effect on people.

  He shouldn’t look back. Not yet.

  But he didn’t give a damn.

  He needed to see her. He needed to see her with a desperation that burned through him and scorched his heart.

  He breathed in deeply, stepped even further out into the aisle. Desperate to have her look in his direction, desperate for a connection.

  Flanked by her mother and father, her bridesmaids carrying her train, Kara walked towards him, her gaze sweeping to either side of the aisle but not once looking in his direction.

  A veil was the only adornment in her tied-up hair. His aunt hadn’t persuaded her to wear a tiara after all.

  Her full-skirted satin dress with its sweetheart neckline was overlaid with delicate lace that skimmed her shoulders and the length of her arms.

  In her hands she carried the same blush-pink roses interlaced with olive and eucalyptus leaves as the displays in the palace ballroom.

  There was heat on her cheeks.

  She was beautiful.

  Look at me.

  Her head dipped as though studying the blue and white mosaic tiles on the floor.

  Look at me, Kara. Let me know you�
�re okay. I need you...and I don’t understand why, but I’m panicking here.

  And then finally, only a few steps away, she looked towards him.

  Her gaze was heavy with emotion.

  His heart pounded.

  She gave him a tentative smile.

  He blinked away the stinging sensation in his eyes.

  She was here.

  * * *

  Standing in the centre of the aisle, powerful, intent, Edwin held her gaze with a burning intensity. Kara’s heart turned inside out.

  His hair was newly cut. His black, heavily adorned military uniform suited the hard planes of his face, the seriousness and loyalty of his personality.

  Her parents peeled away to awkwardly shake Edwin’s hand before they took their seats. From the corner of her eye she saw the fond smiles from their guests taking in the fact both her mother and father had guided her down the aisle to their future son-in-law, a family united in their joy of the ceremony about to take place, when the sad reality was that they had only announced this morning that they were both going to escort her down the aisle, united in their ongoing objections to the wedding.

  Well, at least they were finally agreeing on something for the first time in a decade.

  The music disappeared and silence fell on the cathedral.

  This was about to happen. She was about to marry this man. Her best friend, her saviour, the person who kept her sane, who got her, and with whom she had the most uncomplicated relationship in her life—she was about to marry him and step into a very complicated world.

  Edwin continued to stare at her.

  She smiled, not certain what to do, not certain how to react to his intensity. ‘Hi.’

  She waited for him to say something in response.

  At the altar the cardinal cleared his throat, and made a gesture for them to approach the altar steps, as they had rehearsed.

  But Edwin didn’t budge.

  He leant down and whispered, ‘You’re here.’