A Royal Marriage Of Convenience

fretting that everything was as it should be.

The bride’s guests sat on the left, the groom’s on the right. That was the way it should be, and Max’s mother had strictly enforced it. ‘Are you Max’s friend?’ she’d directed the ushers to ask, and if the friend said yes, regardless of the fact that she and Max shared many friends, then they’d been directed to the right as well.

So she’d walked into the church and there’d been three lone stragglers, friends who’d defied her mother-in- law’s rules and sat on her side regardless.

It had been Max’s wedding. It had been nothing to do with her.

It had been Max’s life.

But here both sides of the church were crowded, even if it was with strangers. Erhard was beside her, calmly smiling, giving her all the time in the world. Hoppy was trying to lick her face.

Nick was smiling.

This was her life. That flash of certainty she’d had when Erhard had first put this proposition to her, when she’d sat across the dinner table from Nick and looked at the way he’d talked to Erhard, courteous, kind, sensitive…

There were no strings here. This was no golden net waiting to catch her, hold her, as it had held her mother. Nick was doing this to free this country. Sure he’d kissed and held her, and he’d been her rock during the past few days, but there were no conditions.

She could marry him and he’d walk away and leave her to it.

He was watching her, hopeful but uncertain. The whole church was watching her uncertainly. What was she doing? Having second thoughts in front of the world’s press? Giving Erhard and Nick heart attacks? If Julianna and Jacques were watching her now they’d beam with delight. Or say really loudly to the nation, see, she’s vacillating.

It was only the thought of marriage that had her vacillating.

‘Are you right to go?’ Erhard whispered, and she managed a smile.

‘I like to make my bridegrooms sweat,’ she said, and his old face wrinkled into a smile of delight. He looked along the aisle to Nick and she intercepted that look again: women-we don’t understand them but we love them anyway!

‘It’s not a real marriage,’ Rose whispered, tucking her hand securely into Erhard’s. ‘This is Nick. Love ’em and leave ’em Nick. I can do this. Let’s get this ceremony on the road.’

It wasn’t a real marriage. The problem was, though, that it was starting to feel like one. They were standing in church and Nick was making vows that felt…right.

Do you take this woman…?

Rose was beautiful. Not just now, he thought, though beautiful would certainly describe her almost ethereal appearance as she made her vows beside him. The first night in the restaurant she’d taken his breath away. He knew now what lay behind the facade, and it was with almost stunned disbelief that he heard her responses

‘I, Rose-Anitra, take you, Nikolai…’

It was mockery. Make believe. Til death do us part? No, only until divorce.

But it surely didn’t feel like that, and for once he let himself go.

Forget the control. Forget the isolation bit.

He took Rose’s hands in his and he held them. Erhard looked on from the sidelines. Hoppy looked on from underneath. And he spoke the words.

‘I, Nikolai, take thee, Rose-Anitra…Forsaking all others, keeping myself only unto you, as long as we both shall live.’

It didn’t matter, Nick thought almost triumphantly as he kissed her tenderly on the lips in front of the whole congregation. It didn’t matter what had been said before or what had been planned for the future

No matter. Things had changed.

He, Nikolai de Montez, was a married man.

The formalities of the wedding were tedious. Signing, signing and more signing, made longer because Nick decreed there wasn’t one document to be signed without checking the wording. Then photography and more photography. And then…

Fun.

A great dance out on the front lawns of the formal palace. At Erhard’s suggestion, made by telephone from his convalescence bed, their guest list for the party comprised representatives from every walk of life, from every corner of the country. As many people as were safe to fit squeezed into the grounds, and the festivities were beamed out over the country to where similar celebrations were taking place over and over. The locals looked at their television sets, toasted the bride and groom and allowed themselves to hope. Nick and Rose were dancing their hearts out in each other’s arms. This seemed a turning point for this desperately poor principality-it was a new beginning for them and a new beginning for all the country.

Then, as the late hours turned to the small hours, as Rose sagged in exhaustion until all that was holding her up was her husband’s arms, the bride and groom were escorted back into the castle and cheered every step as they made their way up the vast marble staircase to the bedchambers beyond.

Nick and Rose. Alone. Even Hoppy had retired long since, sneaking off to find a warm kennel with the kitchen dogs. Tomorrow he’d have Rose to himself, and a dog had to have some beauty sleep.

So for now Nick had Rose all to himself. As they reached the first landing she tripped slightly on her train, and before she knew what he was about he’d swept her up into his arms and carried her the rest of the way. She squeaked in protest, but there was a roar of approval from the crowd below.

‘Say goodnight to our friends,’ Nick ordered, smiling wickedly down at her and swinging her round so they could both look over the balustrade to the people below. ‘Wave.’

She was too dazed to do anything else. She waved.

Nick grinned, swung his bride around and pushed open the first bedroom door.

His.

The door swung closed behind him with a resounding slam.

Another cheer from below, which was just as well, as it disguised the squeak of indignation and the imperious, ‘Put me down. Now!’

He put her down. It behoved a man to tread warily when he thought he was married but he wasn’t sure where the woman was in the equation. The earth hadn’t moved for her, then?

‘I thought separate bedrooms might be frowned on tonight,’ he said.

‘By who?’

‘By everyone downstairs. You know both our doors are visible from the entrance hall.’

‘Then we’ll wait until everyone goes away and go to our own rooms.’

‘Right,’ he said, still cautious. ‘You know, you look beautiful.’

‘You look pretty gorgeous yourself,’ she retorted. ‘Gold tassels and a dress sword. Wow.’

‘I did scrub up well,’ he admitted, and thought fleetingly that if his foster brothers had been here they would have looked at the dress sword and given him a very hard time. But Blake and his brothers had been told not to come-not to a mock wedding; that would have been crazy.

But thinking of his foster family was for later. For now he had to placate his bride-who showed every sign of retreating to her own bedroom.

‘I need to go,’ she said. ‘Even if people see me.’

‘It’s not a good look-bride bolting for her own room.’

She glowered.

‘It was a very nice wedding,’ he said, striving to keep his voice normal.

‘It was.’

‘You don’t have to look at me like that,’ he complained. ‘I’m not about to jump you.’

‘You’d better not.’

‘Why would you think I’d want to?’ he asked and that obviously set her back. The suspicion on her face gave way to confusion.