‘Then we buy me some floaties and don’t let photographers near. Nick, what do you think is happening outside?’
‘I don’t know.’
They’d been aware of the noise since just after breakfast. At first it had sounded like a faint far-off rumble, as if maybe they were not too far away from a sports pavilion. It wasn’t so much individual sound-more a steady murmur, slowly building. But it was building. In the last few minutes it had become so close they could hear individual voices.
‘It’s well over time for lunch,’ she said nervously. ‘Maybe we should complain.’
‘Let’s not,’ Nick said. ‘I have a feeling whoever’s on lunch duty might be distracted.’
They listened for a while longer. The shouts became louder. Whoever it was, they weren’t going away.
‘How are you at singing?’ Nick asked, and Rose thought about singing and then thought, no, this sound was getting too loud to permit distraction. It was definitely loud. It was definitely close.
‘You know, if this is a revolution, the age-old way to depose monarchy is to do a bit of head chopping,’ she whispered.
‘The Russians were the last,’ he said, obviously distracted too. ‘But royalty’s been ousted efficiently since, with nary a bruised neck to show for it. Look at the women’s magazines. There are prince and princesses all over the place, minus thrones, but necks nicely intact.’
‘Nick…’
‘I know,’ he said. He’d crossed to the door, trying hard to hear individual noises from the background din. But there’d been need in her voice. She’d heard it, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
This was supposed to be an adventure. How could it suddenly have got so serious? And where was Julianna? Her sister.
And Hoppy…
‘Nick,’ she said again, not even trying to disguise her need this time. And he reacted. In three long strides he’d crossed the room and hugged her close.
‘We’re in this together,’ he whispered, and his lips brushed the top of her hair.
That should make her feel safer. It did-sort of. It made her feel as if she could face anything with his arms around her for support, but that was scary all by itself. The feeling that she was starting to depend on him.
This man was an international businessman-a jet-setter who’d agreed to a marriage of convenience.
What had she done? A normal woman would have listened to Erhard’s proposition and treated him like a very polite madman. To leave her home and come halfway across Europe to claim a throne-to threaten her sister, to involve herself in a power struggle where she had no idea who the players were, much less how to deal with them…It was like she’d stepped into a James Bond movie, but it was real.
She’d guessed there’d be risks. At some subliminal level she’d figured that this couldn’t be as easy as Erhard had suggested-arrive here, say ‘move over’ to Julianna, and become a princess. Yet things had been closing in on her so tightly at home that she’d come regardless. And the really frightening thing now was that although she should be terrified of outside factors-like a crowd of what sounded like thousands gathering in the castle surrounds-she hugged tight to this man and she still thought that it was okay. Better to go down fighting with this man by her side than to stay for ever in Yorkshire and keep calmly on living Max’s life.
‘We’re in this together,’ he whispered into her hair, and that was terrifying as well. She’d have to do something about it. He was holding her as if he loved her.
As if he loved her…
She hadn’t slashed one set of silver chains to be caught by another, she told herself fiercely. No more emotional baggage. Ever.
Except right now she couldn’t pull away from Nick’s arms. Right now she lacked the strength to be independent, so she held on while the noise from outside grew to an ear-shattering roar. There was a sudden burst of gunfire, and that made her cling tighter, and it made Nick hold her closer. What was happening-a revolution outside their prison door? What?
The gunfire stopped as abruptly as it had started. There was a sudden lull, and then a vast, roaring cheer of approval.
It went on and on, but finally it grew muted. The roar subsided and sounds of confusion took its place. People yelling. Individual voices growing closer.
Was this what war was like? Rose had stopped thinking about how close she was holding Nick. If he tried to pull away now she’d fight him. And by the feel of his arms he was feeling exactly the same as she was.
The shouts grew louder. People yelling to each other. Jubilant yells. But why jubilant?
They stared at the locked door as if it was a time bomb. The minutes ticked by.
And then a shout of approval from just through the door. Men’s voices, shouting, demanding. The sound of a key in the lock.
The door swung inward, and a crowd of people stood in the doorway.
Facing them was the earnest young reporter who’d interviewed them the night before. Behind her was the cameraman, his camera raised over his head, flash flaring.
And pushing through was a child-the boy with the scraggy collie from the night before. There was a man holding the child by the shoulders, trying to make him stay back a little, but he was still pushing through.
‘Let him through,’ the man said earnestly as the door swung wider still and people started surging in. ‘The boy has the lady’s dog.’ He pushed hard, the reporter gave way and the child burst into the room.
He was holding out Hoppy. Rose gasped. And then she smiled.
‘Hoppy!’ she said, and knelt and held out her arms. ‘Oh, Hoppy. I might have known I’d be rescued by a dog.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
HER wedding day dawned as the day most brides dream of. It was a perfect spring day. When the maid pushed back the drapes, she turned to Rose and she beamed her approval.
‘Happy is the bride who the sun shines on.’
‘Yeah?’ Rose groaned and thrust back her covers. Revealing Hoppy. This was a huge and scary palace, and Hoppy had decided his mistress needed round the clock protection.
There really was no need of it. The murmurings of dissent had grown to a full-throated roar the night of their arrival. The population had arrived at the castle to voice their dissent. Hundreds had turned to thousands. There’d been one burst of gunfire over the head of the crowd, to try and stem the rush, but they’d still kept coming.
Jacques and Julianna had disappeared, their heavies with them, only agreeing because they were forced to that the succession be decided by the international panel. The panel had yet to meet, but there seemed little chance that Erhard would be proved wrong. As long as this marriage took place, the throne would go to Rose.
Was it too good to be true? Maybe. Rose was still uneasy, as was Nick, but there was nothing that could be done but continue what they’d planned.
A wedding. Today.
‘Prince Nikolai breakfasted before you, ma’am,’ the maid said, beaming romantically. ‘For a groom to see the bride before the ceremony is bad luck.’
For this was going exactly as planned. Nick would marry her today. The succession would be organized. Nick would be free to leave her, and return to his career.
So why wasn’t she happy?
It was just…Well, living happily ever after as reigning sovereign was starting to feel a bit empty. What would she do?
‘The hairdresser will be here in an hour,’ the maid told her. ‘And your dress will be ready at twelve. Photographers at two.’
