Their Christmas Royal Wedding Read online

  ‘A truce that has held to this day.’ Gabi felt a shiver of history, a realisation that those two men of long ago were linked to Cesar and herself.

  And she sensed, knew, that Cesar had a purpose other than mere sightseeing in taking her here. And now as the sun dipped down over the horizon in a magnificent blaze of red and orange glory and the day slipped into dusk her tummy tightened with nerves, tension, panic, all the emotions. Her senses heightened, the pine-scented breeze intensified in scent, the crunch of the horses’ hooves echoed in her ears, the feel of the blanket over her legs heavier as the sleigh pulled to a halt.

  ‘Come,’ Cesar said. Somehow, she forced her legs to move, alighted from the sleigh and felt a small thrill as he helped her down, his hand round hers. Then he led her across the crisp crunch of snow into a small woodland glade where she stopped as surprise halted her feet.

  The trees were festooned with lights and baubles that glittered in the canopied glade to create a magical tableau. Starlight seeped through the branches and dappled the ground, the snow-covered trees with their contrast of dark green and white adding an almost magical sylvan beauty.

  Cesar took her hands in his, his grasp firm and sure.

  ‘Gabriella.’ Cesar’s voice sounded tight, the word came out with an effort, and he cleared his throat, shook his head and smiled at her. ‘Sorry. I’m nervous,’ he admitted and the admission touched her. ‘I want this to be right. Gabriella Ross Valenti, will you marry me? I pledge you my support, my loyalty, my respect and my fidelity. I will stand by you and I will do my very best to be a good father to our children.’

  Gabi tried to think, knew that she had to think. This was a huge decision that encompassed the rest of her life, and also impacted on her country. Her mind went to those two kings of long ago. Had they stood right here, weighing each other up, trying to broker a peace and a trust? Could she marry a man without love? The answer was suddenly simple.

  Of course, she could. Love would make this too complicated; love had caused a huge amount of difficulty for her mother, had caused her anxiety, despair and, in the end, heartbreak. Maria and Vincenzo’s marriage had stood the test of time from start to finish and brought respect, fidelity, loyalty—what more really could she ask for?

  Than this prince, whose brown eyes were locked on her face, a man who would give her what he had pledged; she took in his strength, his aura, his sheer certainty.

  ‘Yes,’ she said clearly. ‘I will marry you, Cesar Asturias.’

  He released her hands and now he delved a hand into his pocket. Pulled out a small jeweller’s box. He flicked the box open and took the ring out. Gabi held out her hand and he gently slid the ring onto her finger.

  She looked down at it, could feel the thud-thud-thud of her heart against her ribcage as she stared down at the ring that represented a commitment so huge. The colours of the stones were a combination of the Casavalle and Aguilarez flags. The ring a reminder that their marriage was an alliance, a proud alliance, and it would be a happy one.

  ‘It’s beautiful. Truly beautiful.’ And then he kissed her. This kiss was different; she knew it from the moment his lips touched hers. It was a kiss of affirmation, a statement kiss, and it called up a deep desire, one that tugged and demanded and yearned for more. This was the first of a lifetime of kisses and she shivered as she pressed against him, felt the pull of possession, the realisation that from now on they belonged to each other.

  ‘I think we should get married very soon,’ he said. ‘What do you think of a Christmas wedding, on the eve of Christmas?’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Yes. I think it makes sense to marry before your coronation in the new year. And for entirely personal reasons I would like to marry you sooner rather than later.’

  She had no problem with that—her insides still positively squirmed with desire. ‘Works for me. On both points. But do you think we can organise it in time?’

  ‘As long as you are happy with a smaller, more private ceremony. It will be too late for foreign dignitaries to rearrange their Christmas schedules.’

  ‘But most of them will come to the coronation anyway and I would much prefer a smaller wedding. And we could honeymoon here. Back in the castle.’ Spend Christmas Day in front of the tree they had decorated together, lie in front of the fire as husband and wife.

  ‘Then let’s make this happen.’

  * * *

  The days that followed were a whirlwind, of publicity, organisation, planning, there was so much to do: a dress to choose, a reception to organise, a guest list to negotiate.

  At least, though, the wedding was to be small. The two royal families would of course attend, with the exception of Meribel, who had decided that she didn’t want any adverse publicity to spoil her brother’s marriage. And not even Cesar’s words would budge her. Other than family there were diplomatic friends and colleagues of Cesar, and Gabi had invited Jonas, who managed the book store, and Rachel, an old friend from Crystal Lake, along with her husband, Tom, and baby Ben.

  Then finally her wedding day dawned.

  Gabi spent the morning almost in a daze as she got ready. There was little point in pretending she had any input. Imogen, Luca, Tia and Antonio had arrived back in Casavalle the previous day and now Imogen and Tia had taken charge. Gabi had attempted to point out she was a grown woman, not a doll, had also suggested that at seven months pregnant maybe Tia should be resting. But this last had been met with a most unladylike snort from Tia herself.

  ‘Compared to waitressing, pregnancy is a doddle. Plus, Antonio spent the whole honeymoon fussing over me.’

  ‘The whole honeymoon?’ Imogen asked, her eyebrows raised in a suggestive wiggle.

  All three women fell into gales of laughter as Tia admitted, ‘Well, maybe not quite all. But my point is that I have plenty of energy and I wouldn’t miss helping you get ready for the world. I’ll just keep the tea coming and I’ll be fine.’

  Tia’s love of a good cup of tea was known by all and so they took turns boiling the kettle as they set to work.

  Gabi sat back and let them get on, watched her reflection as she morphed into a bride. Her hair was expertly coaxed into gentle waves that seemed to gloss down to her shoulders in a chestnut waterfall. The make-up was subtle but effective, brought out the depth of brown in her eyes, accentuated the height of her cheekbones.

  And then the dress. Gabi had known from the instant she saw it that it was The One. The one that she hoped would stop Cesar in his tracks. It was deceptively simple, long sleeved with an eye-catching wide neckline that cleverly twisted around her shoulders to fall into a low back. The gown was made of a dense weave fabric with a subtle yet distinctive flower motif. The fitted bodice topped a full pleated skirt at the front and a long flowing train at the back.

  Now she was ready and there was a tsunami of panic in her tummy; nerves fluttered and curled in waves as the royal party made the short journey across to the Casavallian chapel.

  ‘You ready?’ Luca asked as they stood at the doors to the ancient stone church.

  ‘I’m ready.’

  They stepped forward and now all she could see was Cesar—he filled her vision as each step took her closer to him, each step matched the breadth and thrum of the swell of music, that seemed to roll and wave in the air in recognition of the moment. Each step so significant, each pound of her heart stronger. He was so goddamn beautiful, this soon-to-be husband of hers, who waited at the altar, a smile lurking on his lips and in his eyes. A smile that encouraged her to keep moving forward. His gaze encompassed her, made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world for him.

  For a fraction of an insidious second, she realised that she was—the only Queen of Casavalle in the vicinity. He would be marrying any woman who wore the crown. For a second, she almost faltered, sensed Luca’s grip on her arm tighten, oh, so slightly, as if in question.
Then she looked at Cesar again, and he gave the smallest, quickest of winks and suddenly it was all OK again. Now she had reached the altar and he smiled down at her; his gaze unfaltering; no hint of doubt flecked the dark chocolate-brown depths.

  Next came the vows, made in this historic beautiful church that had seen so many other royal marriages take place. These walls had witnessed so much, joy and pain, life, death, christenings... So many rulers of Casavalle would have been wed here, indeed her own mother must have wed her father here. The idea sent a shiver down her spine.

  Cesar spoke each word clearly and she followed his lead, focused on each syllable, until it got to the vow to love and honour and then there was a beat of hesitation, so fleeting she was sure no one but the two of them would have noted it.

  Then it was done.

  They were husband and wife, wedlocked.

  He pushed her veil back and, oh, so gently he kissed her, his lips feather-light and yet so sensuous. Joy and a tremor of desire coursed her veins and she lifted her hand to gently cup his cheek.

  The walk back down the aisle was dreamlike—she even thought she saw Maria wipe a tear from the corner of her eye, which surely must be an illusion. As they emerged into the cold, snow-tanged air she looked round at the blue-grey of the sky, the ancient beauty of the churchyard, and all she could think was the word married. She’d got married. Married. Married.

  Then it was time for the photographs but today she sailed through the usually hated pastime. Because Cesar was next to her, oh, so close, arm around her waist, her hand lightly resting on his chest, and a new awareness dawned, a thrill of anticipation at the night ahead.

  An awareness that simmered as they arrived at the reception, held in one of the Casavallian ballrooms, resplendent in Christmas beauty. The flags of Aguilarez and Casavalle fluttered at the doors. The columns and pillars were draped with beautiful white flowers that trailed and garlanded down with fairy-tale beauty and added a tinge of scent to the air.

  An enormous table displayed an array of canapés. Gabi had decided against the formality of a sit-down dinner, preferred the idea of allowing people to mingle. Instead she’d asked for tables to be dotted round the room so that people could sit or stand as they pleased.

  ‘I think it’s working,’ she said to Cesar as they stood together watching their guests as they laughed and talked. Imogen and Luca circulated, making introductions. Antonio and Tia sat with Miles and Grace, all laughing.

  ‘Even my parents look happy,’ he agreed, watching King Jorge smile and nod as Imogen spoke to him. ‘Clearly Meribel’s faults have been forgotten.’

  Now that a different Asturias had married a different soon to be ruler of Casavalle.

  ‘Then hopefully Meribel will feel able to attend my coronation and bring Dana with her.’

  ‘Perhaps. But enough of my family. What about you, Gabi? Are you happy? Are you enjoying yourself?’

  ‘I am. I spoke with Jonas as well and I have told him he can have the book store.’

  ‘Are you sure? I know how much it means to you.’

  ‘It does but it would be selfish of me to hang onto it now. I know it was the right choice. My life is here now.’

  With you.

  She bit the words back, reluctant to show even a hint of sappiness. Instead, ‘Now we should mingle.’

  Cesar nodded and with a small wave she moved away. As she did so she spotted a tall, willowy blonde woman who was standing watching her, partly shielded by a fluted, flowered pillar. Gabi smiled and then the smile froze into a rictus as she realised the identity of the guest. Lady Amelia Scott-Browne.

  How? Why? No way would she have missed the inclusion of Lady Amelia on the guest list. Equally no way could anyone have gatecrashed this venue. Had Cesar asked Lady Amelia? The thought sent an icy jag through her veins. No, of course he wouldn’t, or at least not without telling her. Would he? Perhaps in a loveless marriage he assumed it wouldn’t matter to her. It shouldn’t matter to her. That Lady Amelia was so beautiful, so elegant, so poised, so...

  Stop, Gabi.

  Right now, it was imperative that she maintain her poise; no hint of scandal could touch this wedding.

  Plus, there was no need for the stabs of jealousy she could feel pinprick her whole body. Cesar and Amelia had been history before Gabi came on the scene and she would not allow herself the indulgence of petty jealousy.

  It was the future that was important.

  It was simply unfortunate that her immediate future obviously involved a conversation with Lady Amelia. But as she approached the other woman, Gabi was careful to keep a friendly smile on her face.

  ‘Your Highness.’ Amelia’s voice was low, well-modulated and completely cordial. ‘I know you must be wondering why I am here. I assure you that Cesar has no idea I am here.’

  ‘I must admit that I’m a little curious, yes.’

  ‘I have come as the guest of Ferdinand Bastillo, one of Cesar’s diplomatic colleagues. And I must admit I was guilty of a little subterfuge; Ferdinand believes I have Cesar’s permission to be here and it is he who convinced your palace secretary to add me to the guest list at the last minute. But I only came because I wished to talk with you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I do not know how much Cesar told you about “us” but I believe you are entitled to the truth and I couldn’t think of another way to speak with you. I know that letters and emails get censored.’

  It was true. Gabriella knew how much trouble Miles had got into for passing her original letter on to Maria, knew too how hard it had been for Tia to get in touch with Antonio. She had been forced to simply turn up as Lady Amelia had now.

  ‘Go ahead,’ she said, though every instinct told her to cover her ears with her hands and run away.

  Lady Amelia nodded. ‘I’m not sure if Cesar has been honest with you, and everything I have seen and heard indicates to me that you have fallen in love with him.’

  Gabi hesitated—she could hardly tell Lady Amelia that it was all for the camera.

  ‘I...’

  The blonde woman gave a trill of laughter. ‘I do understand that obviously you had to ham it up for the press but I believe you have really fallen.’

  The realisation hit her like a rock dropping from the chandelier-adorned ceiling. She did love Cesar. Of course she did—now the thought had entered her mind she knew with absolute blinding certainty that it was true. Oh, she’d told herself she understood the rules but her heart, her body, her very soul had been unable to comply with the orders of her brain.

  Because love wasn’t like that.

  It couldn’t be forced or coerced to arrive or leave.

  Amelia watched her closely, her green eyes full of sympathy. ‘And I can’t let him play you like that,’ she stated. ‘Cesar only broke up with me because his parents told him to, so that he would be free to marry you.’

  The words and their import slammed into her. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t. Could it? Only it could—her brain was in control now, thinking events through with icy logic.

  ‘Did he tell you that?’

  ‘Not in so many words. Cesar is too wily a diplomat for that. He went to Aguilarez for a meeting with his parents and Queen Maria and on his return he broke up with me. Out of the blue.’ Lady Amelia’s voice held sadness now. ‘Next thing I knew I saw the press speculation about you and him. I know I shouldn’t have been surprised; Cesar has always been a man to do his duty, so I understood his decision to sacrifice love.’

  ‘Love?’ Despite her best intent her voice raised in pitch.

  Amelia shrugged. ‘Yes. I think it took him by surprise—at the start of our relationship he was very sure about his short-term plans but as time went on...we fell in love.’ The words twisted in Gabi’s heart, each one a vicious turn of the knife. ‘We were so compatible, had so much fun and he knew I would make a
n excellent diplomat’s wife, so he would have been able to marry me with his parents’ approval. But then he was called on to marry you.’

  Every word rang with the possibility of truth, gelled with everything Cesar had told her, bar the reason for his break-up with Lady Amelia. And Cesar could not have told her that truth; to do so would have scuppered all his chances of making an alliance with Gabi. And also Cesar was a good man—he wouldn’t have wanted to hurt her either. But it all made a horrible poisonous sense.

  His words echoed in her brain: ‘Love brings its own risks, of loss and grief. It complicates life. If we marry you do not need to fear I will fall in love with anyone.’

  Because he already loved Lady Amelia. And who could blame him? She was beautiful, sophisticated and part of his world.

  Lady Amelia continued. ‘I just wanted you to know; I also wanted to assure you that I will not pursue Cesar. I will not cause scandal. I intend to get on with my life and I wish him well. I wish you both well. But I couldn’t bear to see you expose yourself to hurt.’

  Too late. Pain gripped her, a deep ache, and she wondered if the whole room could hear the crack of her heart. Perhaps, but that was all the evidence they would get. She would wear the royal mask, as Cesar had advised, as he had taught her. She would be a Queen.

  Even as her soul shrivelled with the realisation that history was repeating. Her past echoed into her present and her future. She was a duty and a burden again, as she had been to her aunt and uncle.

  But right now she had to put her country and her pride first. As for her love, she had to squeeze that, compact it and hide the knowledge away. No one must ever, ever suspect that she truly loved Cesar.

  She smiled at Lady Amelia, a smile as friendly and regal as she could manage. ‘I truly appreciate the effort you have gone to, to tell me this, and I am happy to be able to set your mind at rest. Cesar and I understand each other; he has been honest with me and we look forward to a happy and long-lasting union.’