died through poverty and neglect. I know,’ he said as her eyes widened in shock. ‘We’ll set the story straight. But your isolation has meant that people will feel sorry for you, and maybe we have to play to that. The fact that you’ve had no other man-as far as we know-makes it possible for the people of my country to believe that you can be a truly worthy bride.’
‘Oh, very good,’ she managed. Only it wasn’t. Here were the echoes of an anger that had been put aside for a little. ‘So if I’d, say, had another boyfriend or six in the interim it would have been much…’
‘Better,’ he finished brusquely. ‘If my people believed you were a trollop, then I might not have to marry you.’
‘You don’t have to marry me.’
‘I do have to marry you,’ he snapped. ‘I have as little choice as you.’
Her coffee suddenly tasted like mud. She set the cup down on the delicately etched china saucer and pushed it away from her.
‘So we have two people forced into a royal marriage of convenience.’
‘That sums it up.’ He sighed and looked across the table at her. ‘Don’t look like that. You were starting to look…better. More cheerful. Like there was an advantage to this somewhere.’
‘There is,’ she said and hugged her dog. ‘Deefer and my farm. I’ll need to figure the quarantine regulations for getting him back into Australia.’
‘The breeder gave me the details but let’s not apply for that just yet,’ he said. ‘Let’s get married first.’
‘So…when?’
‘Three days.’
Her eyes flew to his, shocked. ‘Three days?’
‘Back on the mainland. I’ll introduce you to my family and we wed that afternoon.’
‘You must really be scared.’
‘My brother thinks he’s about to lose the crown,’ Andreas said. ‘Yes, he’s scared. But so is half the country. We will not be swallowed by Calista.’
‘And I’m the pawn…’
‘We’re both pawns.’
She ignored him. Or she was trying to ignore him.
‘Why?’ she said at last. ‘Is there anything you’re not telling me?’
He shook his head and she thought suddenly he looked dead tired. He’d been up all night trying to sort her a dog, a deal, a future? And flying back and forth collecting Deefer. She had a sudden urgent desire to go round the table and run her fingers through his dark hair. Hold his face against her breast as once she’d done, oh, so long ago.
It wouldn’t work. They were adults now, with adult responsibilities. And surely she had an adult’s mistrust of showing her heart on her sleeve.
‘So…so how bad was your divorce?’ she asked suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, but in fact it was something she really wanted to know.
Sophia had told her the country was up in arms about Andreas’s immoral behaviour, but she’d also said, ‘But don’t believe a word of it. Christina lied about Andreas from day one. She has powerful friends, that one, and she knows how to manipulate the press. Prince Andreas has been made to be the villain and he’s too much of a gentleman to put them right.’
Holly looked across the table into Andreas’s eyes and she saw the confirmation of what Sophia had told her. The country might be accusing the royal family of being immoral but she’d never believe it of Andreas. He might be a prince-he might be so far from her world that she could barely touch him-but she believed in his honour.
Today he’d worked on her behalf; he’d given her something he believed she truly wanted. So now…
She had a choice. She could go forth, kicking and screaming into the future, bewailing it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair. Or she could start playing the part. She could even have…fun?
‘I wouldn’t mind being a bride,’ she said cautiously, and she saw shock register.
‘You wouldn’t mind…
She lifted an after-dinner mint from the middle of the table and bit into its creamy centre. There might well be advantages to royalty. One of them might be the seriously good chocolate. But…‘I won’t wear a bustle,’ she told him. ‘No bows, either. But if there’s a crown or a tiara or something, I don’t mind a bit of bling.’
‘Bling…’
‘Diamonds are good,’ she said, striving for insouciance.
‘You can hardly wear the Aristo crown,’ he said dryly. ‘It might be gorgeous but there is the little fact that the diamond in the middle is paste.’
‘Then I won’t wear it,’ she decreed. ‘No paste for this princess. I want fabulous.’
‘Fabulous.’
‘Yes, fabulous. If we’re stuck in a royal marriage, then why don’t we give the whole country their money’s worth?’
‘You mean it?’
‘I mean it.’ She focused on her mint, trying to sound airy. ‘I mean, if we both go into it pretending we hate the idea…what sort of impression does that give? That we’re both wimps?’
‘No one could ever say you’re a wimp.’
‘Nor you,’ she said and eyed him with distinct approval. ‘Not in that outfit. Golly, Andreas, who does your tailoring?’
‘How would I know?’ He rose and moved around the table so he was standing beside her, looking down at her with his hooded, enigmatic eyes.
‘That’s right,’ she said, trying not to sound self-conscious. Trying not to sound as if he was standing too close and she was too aware of it. ‘I forgot. You have a whole retinue of tailors.’
‘Who’ll move heaven and earth to sew you a wedding dress in time.’
‘That’ll be nice,’ she said and smiled up at him and that was a mistake. Big mistake. For he was smiling back at her, with that devastating smile she’d fallen in love with ten years ago and had never fallen out of love with.
Deefer was on her knee. It was Deefer who saved her, for Andreas put his hands under her arms and would have tugged her up, only of course if he had then Deefer would have been caught under the table edge. The little dog forced Holly to plump back down again. She pushed the chair sideways and got to her feet herself, holding her dog like a shield.
‘I need to go back to the mainland tonight,’ Andreas said and she must have looked as she felt, for he took a step towards her. She took a very fast step back.
‘I…why?’
‘Because we’re getting married in three days,’ he said, as if that explained all.
‘So you have to…what, send out invitations?’ She was so far at sea she was drowning but she didn’t know how to pull herself out.
‘I guess I do,’ he agreed, managing a smile, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. There were messages zinging back and forth that she had no hope of interpreting.
‘Is there anyone you’d like to invite?’
‘How many people do I know here?’
‘We could charter a jet from Australia. Do you want your mother to come?’
‘She comes and the wedding’s off,’ she snapped before she could think about it,
