The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12. Кейт Хьюит
was back, a glimmer at first, and then a full-on grin. ‘What, you’re offering me five minutes?’
‘Take six if you want.’
‘You’re all heart.’
‘You want to get married?’ he said. ‘We’re ready and waiting.’
‘You make it sound ordinary.’ The whole congregation could hear but neither of them were aware of it.
‘People do it every day. Just because you’re wearing a tiara… Take it off if it bothers you.’
‘You’d marry me without the tiara?’
‘I’d marry you with nothing on at all,’ he said and the uncertain smiles around the chapel became chuckles. This wasn’t what anyone had expected—in this atmosphere redolent of royal history and pageantry it was almost as if a breath of fresh air had blown through the chapel.
‘I reckon you wouldn’t,’ she said, and grinned and he could see the girl she’d once been; the girl she still was under the pain and loneliness the past had thrown at her.
‘I reckon I would.’ His eyes were daring her, laughing with her. ‘You want to try me?’
‘I reckon not,’ she whispered, but the tension was gone. He’d won, he thought. She was looking at him the way she’d looked at him all those years ago. As if he was just Andreas. Just a boy.
A boy to his girl. A man to his woman.
A bride to his groom.
‘With this ring I thee wed…’
He slipped the band of gold on her finger and she looked down at it and then looked at the man facing her. Andreas.
She’d dreamed of this moment. It had always been a girl’s romantic longing. Her Cinderella moment. Marrying her prince. And here she was, doing it for real.
Yet it was all fake. She was doing it for the sake of his country. The marriage would end and she’d go on as before.
Not as before. She stared at the wedding band, at Andreas’s strong fingers as he settled it in place, and then she looked up into his face.
Her husband.
She meant these vows.
Okay, this marriage might only last a few weeks but it was all she had. She’d waited for ten long years and here she was, hesitating, acting like a wilting violet. Making him talk her down the aisle. Responding to his vows with whispers.
She was no timid virgin and this was her husband. If she only had weeks… she’d go back to Munwannay and these memories would have to last for the rest of her life.
This had all been one-sided. She’d submitted to everything.
On the middle finger of her right hand she wore her father’s ring. It was a rough-cast band of gold that had been wrought from gold found on Munwannay. The seam had never amounted to anything but she could still remember the excitement when it had been found.
‘We’ll be rich,’ her father had exulted, swinging her round and round the kitchen in dizzy excitement. ‘I’ll be able to give you and your mother everything you want.’
He’d had two rings cast—wedding rings to cement the future. Heaven knew what her mother had done with hers—probably cast it away with the marriage—but her father had worn his until he died.
And now…
The priest was about to go on, assuming there was one ring only. But before he could do so, she’d tugged it off and handed it over.
‘Bless this,’ she whispered. ‘And then wear it, Andreas.’
She’d caught him by surprise. He’d never worn a wedding ring—there was no indent around his ring finger to say he’d worn a ring during his marriage to Christina.
For a moment she thought he’d refuse. She met his gaze, steadily, her look a challenge. Come on, this is under my terms as well.
His lips quirked into a glimmer of a smile.
‘Well, then,’ the priest said and there was a faint trace of relief in his voice. He took Holly’s ring and blessed it.
‘With this ring I thee wed.’
And then there was the party.
At what point had she stopped being the wilting bride? Andreas moved among the wedding guests and his gaze kept turning to his bride, over and over again.
She was talking and laughing and moving among the guests as if she were born to the occasion. Munwannay had always been a social hub and she’d been bred to society. He knew that, but he hadn’t expected this. The guest list meant that he had to do the expected. There were so many people who’d be offended if he slighted them today. So he couldn’t hold her tight to him; he had to work the crowd alone. He’d warned his family to look out for her; to protect her as much as they could, but it seemed Holly needed no protection.
She spoke his language almost perfectly. Her fluency stunned him. Yes, she’d learned it as a kid, as a shared intimacy with him, but that she’d kept it up…
She joked, she laughed, she seemed genuinely interested in those around her. She was working the crowd as much as he was.
Their people loved her. The crazy, intimate scene in the church had disarmed everyone who saw it and now she was taking full advantage of the good humour she’d engendered.
He saw Sebastian watching her from the sidelines and saw his brother’s dark eyes crease in admiration. And something else.
He’d been talking to a politician, an officious little man who was congratulating him on his choice of wife. ‘We were so concerned. Another scandal would have undone us all, yet you’ve turned the thing around.’
But when he saw Sebastian watching his bride, it was Andreas who turned around, apologizing brusquely and heading through the crowd to Holly’s side. It was the way Sebastian had looked at her. She was an innocent.
No. She was his wife.
The knowledge was like a blast of light through fog, an unbelievable fact that would disappear any moment. But for now…
‘Holly,’ he said and slipped his arm round her waist in a gesture that was entirely proprietary.
‘Hi,’ she said and snuggled up against him in a gesture that was entirely unroyal. ‘Having fun?’
‘I don’t do fun,’ he said without thinking, and she frowned.
‘What, never?’
‘This is work.’
‘No, but there are some really nice people here.’ She sighed. ‘I’m doing all my talking for the next fifty years. I’ll remember this back at Munwannay. What are we drinking?’
He looked at the glass she was holding—golden bubbles. ‘French champagne.’
‘I like it,’ she said. ‘I think I need more.’
‘Right now?’
‘Maybe not. A tipsy bride is not a good look. Do you think I can sneak away and check on Deefer?’
‘He’s in very good hands.’
‘Yes, but they’re not my hands. How long do wedding receptions last?’
‘Until the bride and groom leave.’
She brightened. ‘Hey, that’s us, right? So can we leave?’
Tia was suddenly there. His mother. She’d kept things under control since her husband died. If it weren’t for Tia… well, maybe the monarchy would have disintegrated long since, he thought. She was always where she was needed. Now she touched her son on his shoulder.
‘The older people need to leave. So, therefore,