‘Well, sort of,’ she said and Raoul choked again.
The magistrate gave him a doubtful glance. But he spoke to Jess. Of the pair, he’d obviously decided she was the sensible one. ‘Someone well might ask Henri,’ the old magistrate growled. ‘There’s a lot at stake here so make sure you get it right. Stay together tonight and make sure there are people about as witnesses.’ And then his look of worry faded.
‘I know you’ll do the right thing,’ he told them. ‘You’ve done enough. The terms of the regency seem to have been fulfilled. Raoul, you’re now the Regent. Ruling monarch for the next eighteen years until Edouard is of age. And your bride is the Princess Jessica.’
‘Princess.’ She wrinkled her nose. This was sounding more and more like some sort of crazy historical tale. How could this be happening? On this nicely normal morning, in this real-life setting? With this gorgeous prince beside her?
Forget the prince, she told herself desperately. Focus on yourself. Princess? It sounded ridiculous.
‘I need to address you as Your Highness,’ M. Luiten told her and she blushed from the toes up.
‘I’m not-’
‘Yes, you are,’ he told her, very definitely. ‘From this day forth. Now, off you go, the pair of you. Back to your castle. A prince and his princess forever. And me? I’ll go back to a second cup of coffee-after I’ve attended to some photocopying and a few very important phone calls.’
‘Not to the Press,’ Raoul growled and Jess looked startled. The Press?
‘No. Oh, no.’
‘They need to know,’ M. Luiten said, surprised. ‘You can’t keep this a secret. More, you don’t want to. Marcel needs to be put in his place and the population needs to be told. Indeed, I can’t think of any announcement that will be met with more joy in this country.’
‘But…’ Jess looked at Raoul for confirmation and he nodded. This, it seemed, was her call. ‘I’m leaving the country as soon as I can,’ she said. ‘It would be so much better for everyone if the Press didn’t learn of it until after I left.’
‘So much better for everyone?’ the magistrate prodded and she gave a shamefaced grin.
‘Well…so much better for me.’
‘A wedding without a bride.’
‘That’s what this is, after all,’ she said. ‘I’m a wife in name only. To pretend otherwise isn’t going to work for a minute.’ She blushed. ‘OK, we’ll get the consummation bit sorted but after that I’m out of here, and I’d like to be gone before there’s any fuss.’
‘Raoul?’ The magistrate looked to Raoul for confirmation and he nodded.
‘It’s a big thing Jess has done for us,’ he growled. ‘We’ll not ask more of her. Surely a wedding is enough.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEY drove away, stunned. Or Raoul was probably stunned, Jess thought. She definitely was.
Princess Jessica.
The name drifted in her head as they turned toward the town boundaries, and then started up the mountainside to where the fairy-tale castle nestled on an eyrie that looked out over all the land to the sea beyond. Over all this principality.
She was a princess. Going home to her castle.
She choked back laughter.
‘What?’ Raoul asked. He seemed to be deep in thought-or maybe he was just concentrating on the winding road.
‘Do you think people will find out?’
‘That we’re married? Of a surety they’ll find out. They must. Hopefully the fuss will wait until you’re safely out of the country, but our marriage will have major consequences for everyone here.’
‘I meant…back in Australia,’ she said in a small voice. The enormity of what she’d done was just hitting home. She’d proposed to a prince and she’d married him. She thought back to her workrooms, where her staff were hopefully beavering away producing her latest designs. She might have a loyal staff but they weren’t exactly deferential.
Princess Jessica. They’d think it was fantastic. Fantastic and very, very funny.
‘My staff will give me heaps,’ she said ruefully.
‘Give you heaps?’
‘They’ll tease me into the middle of next week.’
‘You can always sack them.’
‘Oh, yeah, right. That’s me. Princess Jessica sacking her staff because they’re teasing her.’ The feeling of unreality faded a little and she chuckled out loud. ‘I’d like to see it. Besides, I’ve been transformed into a princess, not a wicked witch. You have your fairy tales mixed.’
‘It seems so unreal?’
‘It certainly does,’ she told him. ‘Bring on your magic wands. I can’t believe this is happening. And tomorrow or the next day I have to get on the plane and go home, transforming back into being just me. A nine-to-five existence is going to seem crazy after this.’
He looked across at her curiously.
‘You know, there’s no need for you to continue with a nine-to-five existence,’ he said gently. ‘You’ll never have to work again.’
That silenced her. She worked at it for a minute, considering his statement from all angles, but any way she looked at it it didn’t make sense.
‘Pardon?’
‘As my wife, you’ll receive a more than generous income from the royal exchequer.’ He rounded a particularly tight bend and concentrated on straightening the car. ‘You needn’t worry about the morality of accepting it,’ he told her. ‘The people aren’t taxed to pay your income. This royal family has wealth which goes back hundreds of years. You’re very well provided for.’
Whoa. ‘I’m not,’ she said flatly. ‘The idea’s ridiculous.’
‘You’ve done the country a service,’ he said, just as flatly. ‘You deserve to be compensated.’
‘I told you,’ she said, and she couldn’t keep the surge of anger from her voice, ‘I’m the owner of Waves. I’m very nicely off, thank you very much, and I have no intention of taking any of your money. Or any of your exchequer’s money, whatever an exchequer is. People would say I married you for your wealth and there’s no way I want part of that. And you can forget the princess thing. A princess can’t be an Australian fashion designer. Princess Jessica sounds like some type of Kewpie doll, or a little girl’s fashion label. How much respect would I get with a name like that?’
He smiled. ‘A great deal of respect.’
‘Not in the circles I move in.’ She folded her arms and looked grumpily ahead. ‘No way.’
‘Jess,’ he said, gently into the silence, ‘you’ve pushed me to be Prince Raoul. Your conditions stipulate that I stay here-stay in the royal goldfish bowl. I can’t escape royalty. You’re either royal or you’re not. We’re both royal, from this day forth.’
‘You didn’t make any such stipulation,’ she told him. ‘And don’t go doing the injustice thing to me. You were born a prince. I was born a nice little commoner and that’s the way I intend to stay.’
‘So you’ll return to Australia with nothing.’
‘With a certificate saying I have a very good-looking husband. With the satisfaction of having a really cute step-nephew who’s being raised by people who love him. And,’ she told him-giving him the most virtuous smirk she could manage, ‘I have the truly noble gift of having saved a man by marriage. Saved a prince by marriage. How many girls can add that to their curriculum vitae?’
He chuckled. To her amazement he chuckled. It was the nicest sound, she decided. The best.
‘OK,’ he conceded, when laughter faded. ‘It’s a job well done. And it is a job well done, Jess.’
‘Yep. So we’ll get this consummation business over tonight and tomorrow I can leave,’ she said promptly, and
