A Royal Proposition

chuckle, the beautician made one final adjustment and Marguerite stepped forward and took Penny-Rose’s hand.

‘Are you ready to meet your husband, my love?’

Penny-Rose met Marguerite’s eyes. They were calm and steady, and they knew exactly what they were asking. And she drew in her breath. Marguerite knew!

‘I…’

‘I think you’re ready,’ Marguerite said softly. ‘Oh, my dear, this is just what I always dreamed of.’

‘Marguerite-’

‘Now, not another word,’ her soon-to-be-mother-in-law told her, and patted her hand. ‘You’ll spoil your make- up.’

‘Or I might crack it,’ she whispered, and managed a smile. But it was nonsense. The beautician had had enough sense to leave her skin flawlessly natural.

‘You’ll knock your husband’s socks off,’ Heather declared, and Penny-Rose’s smile faltered. She turned and took one last, long look in the mirror. The woman who looked back at her was a fairy princess.

She’d been handed every weapon she could possibly need, she thought.

The rest of it was up to her.

Or how strong Alastair’s defences could be.

She’d knock his socks off?

‘That’s my intention,’ she murmured. ‘OK, Alastair de Castaliae. Prince Alastair. Here I come. Ready or not.’

They’d decided on no formal bridal party.

‘If you don’t want bridesmaids, I won’t have groomsmen,’ Alastair had said. ‘It’s just as well. There’s no one close enough to be an obvious best man. Whoever I ask, someone else is bound to be offended.’

And it was ridiculous, given Penny-Rose’s fierce independence, that someone give her away.

So they’d decided that she’d walk up the aisle by herself, she’d have no attendants, and Alastair would carry his own ring.

Her sisters fussed around her as she arrived, but with her train arranged beautifully to sweep down the aisle behind her, they took themselves to the front row to watch her make her way to her bridegroom in solitary splendour.

And all at once, solitary splendour felt very, very lonely.

There must be a thousand people present, she thought dazedly, starting that long solemn walk as a lone trumpeter sounded.

And then she saw Alastair.

He was dressed in a soft grey morning suit-of course-and he looked magnificent. The only touch of colour was a crimson rosebud in his lapel.

A rose… The flower of love… Marguerite had chosen the flowers, and Penny-Rose carried twelve matching buds in her bouquet.

The sight, for some reason, made her feel like weeping. Red roses for her wedding day… It seemed almost a mockery.

But Alastair was watching her, and his eyes were calm and reassuring. A tiny smile creased the corner of his mouth.

Dear God, he was so…so…

So Alastair. There was no other way of describing him, because that was who he was, and she loved him so much that she felt she was close to breaking.

How could she do this? she thought wildly. She was marrying the man under false pretences. Alastair didn’t want a wife who loved him to bits. He didn’t even really want a wife…

Panic was suddenly close to overwhelming her.

And then she saw Michael. Her baby brother.

Alastair’s promise that he’d have no attendants had gone out the window. Michael had Alastair’s ring in his hand, he was wearing a morning suit to match Alastair’s and the look on his face was as if he’d been handed the world.

The sixteen-year-old had flown halfway around the globe to be at his sister’s wedding, but until this moment he’d been thoroughly confused by everything that was going on. Sixteen-year-olds were insecure at the best of times. Unlike Heather and Liz, he’d hated this.

But now he’d been handed a part to play, and what a part! Best man! And in his free hand-the one that wasn’t holding the ring…

For heaven’s sake, Mike was holding a leash. He was holding Leo!

The pup had been brushed to an inch of his life, and he’d never looked so splendid. The scars on his side were almost healed, but they were completely covered by a magnificent crimson doggy coat. He wore a studded collar, his lead was crimson suede and he beamed at the approaching bride and wagged his tail as if this entire ceremony was being put on for his benefit.

Her brother. And her dog…

Alastair had done this-for her!

She couldn’t help it. Panic subsided, and despite the aura of solemnity-despite the state officials and the hundreds of people she’d never seen in her life, despite the grandeur and the fuss-she chuckled.

This would be OK.

She loved this man so much… He’d known how alone this ceremony would make her feel, so he’d done the two things that could ease her fears.

He was some prince!

And surely the only thing to do with a prince like this was to marry him?

And Alastair watched his bride come toward him with a feeling in his chest that was almost as close to panic as hers.

What was he doing? Marrying?

This wasn’t real, he told himself. It was a pretence. It was a mock wedding, made for the best of purposes-to protect his tenants and to provide for their future.

In twelve months he’d let this woman go and he’d marry a sensible woman-a woman who suited his lifestyle.

Belle.

But the thought of Belle was suddenly very far away. What was real was Penny-Rose.

No! She was Rose, he told himself. For some reason it was a distinction it was important to keep. Penny-Rose was for those who loved her. Rose… Rose was to be his formal wife.

So it was Rose who was walking toward him, her eyes wide and her face determined. Despite her determination, her steps were faltering.

She was fearful, he thought. Damn, it hadn’t been fair to drag her into this. Into the goldfish bowl of royalty.

But she was so beautiful she took his breath away! She was wearing his mother’s dress, a dress that would have been equally beautiful a hundred years ago. She looked timeless and serene and incredibly lovely. In fact, she looked just as a princess should.

His princess.

For a year.

The time frame was suddenly gut-wrenching. But then…he saw the exact moment she registered that Mike and Leo were by his side. He saw the serenity and solemnity vanish, along with the fear. Laughter flashed into her lovely eyes, her lips twitched with pleasure and as she reached him he heard a low, lovely chuckle.

‘Oh, Alastair…’

Her laughing face was raised to his and he gazed down at her for a long, long moment.

Then he calmly took her hand and smiled back.

This was suddenly very, very OK.