She’d forgotten she’d admitted that first. She swallowed. ‘With words.’
It wasn’t a lie—it was very true. But it wasn’t all of the truth.
‘They’ve all accepted the invitation. They’re here,’ he said after a while. ‘I’ve put them up at the hotel, rather than the palace. I’ve already issued a personal request that they don’t speak to the media but I can’t muzzle anyone completely. If they get seduced by the offer of an exclusive with a news agency—’
‘I know.’ She licked her lips nervously. ‘I know you can’t control everything.’
Of course they’d accepted the invitations. Who could turn down a flight in a private jet to attend something so high profile in the incredible country of Triscari? Even she hadn’t been able to turn down his offer.
‘I’m sorry I can’t,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry they hurt you.’
She stiffened, holding back that yearning opening within with every step he took closer towards her. She didn’t want his sympathy. She didn’t want to think about any of that.
‘But I’m not going to do that,’ he added. ‘I’m not saying anything I don’t mean to you. When I talk about our inevitability, Hester, I’m not trying to flatter you. I’m just being honest.’
The trouble was his honesty was so naturally charming, so instinctively seductive. And while he was arrogant and confident, she didn’t think even he really realised his potency. He was used to it, wasn’t he? Flirting and having affairs. She just wasn’t. She didn’t think she could handle him.
‘There are still only two kisses in our contract,’ she breathed, clinging to that flimsy fact.
She had to keep him at that wafer-thin distance. He couldn’t change the agreement before they’d even signed the marriage certificate.
‘Trust me, I know.’ He remained close for the merest moment more. ‘And for what it’s worth, I think you’re going to slay them all tomorrow.’
Truthfully all she wanted was to slay him.
Fairy tales indeed.
CHAPTER SIX
HESTER SWAYED GENTLY as the glass carriage carried her along the castle route with its cobblestones and beautiful flower-strewn path to her waiting prince. The fine lace veil covering her face softened her focus so the vast crowds waving and watching blurred, but they were all there hoping to catch a glimpse of her—Prince Alek’s mysterious bride.
She’d slept surprisingly well in the large wooden castle. Fiorella had arrived there too late in the evening for them to catch up and then Billie and her team had arrived first thing, along with an army of dressmakers. So she’d had no chance to talk to Fiorella—they were both too busy being beautified for the wedding. This was good because when she’d first spotted her soon-to-be sister-in-law, she’d veered dangerously close to hugging her. And Hester didn’t hug anyone.
Before getting ready this morning she’d read only a few of the news stories about her that had been printed over the last few days. They’d not had that much time to dig up too much drama, but there was enough to make her shiver. But, worse, the real truth was there—some whispered of Alek’s requirement to marry. That he’d picked someone biddable and shy and inoffensive. ‘The bland bride’, some bitchy bloggers had labelled her.
The romantics on the other side, however, wanted to believe the fairy tale and drowned out that truth with the fantasy. Their outing to the hospital had silenced many doubters and the body-language experts had had a field day. Apparently their light touch and laughing smiles showed ‘intimacy and genuine love’ between them.
And her moment with that distressed boy had somehow been leaked—still images taken by a long-range lens through a window while one of the teachers had spoken on condition of anonymity and talked of her natural affinity with the children...while Alek was apparently smitten and protective. Hester had put the tablet down, unwilling to read any more.
‘We’re almost there. Deep breath, Hester.’ Fiorella smiled. ‘This is going to be amazing.’
Contrarily Fiorella’s soft reassurance sharpened Hester’s nerves. Too late she realised the princess had been abnormally quiet all morning. Was she worried—or pre-occupied? ‘Are you okay Fiorella?’
‘Okay?’ The princess’s deep brown eyes widened and curiously a rush of colour swept into her cheeks. ‘You mean about the wedding?’
What else would she have meant? Fiorella’s gaze dipped but before Hester could ask more, the carriage slowed and then stopped.
‘You’re the best person in the world for Alek,’ Fiorella whispered quickly before a footman appeared at the door.
Hester was glad of the veil—it gave her soft focus too. She could literally hide behind it.
She climbed the stone steps slowly as instructed, though mainly it was because the silk train of her dress was heavy. Then she saw Alek waiting at the end of the long aisle and was unable to tear her gaze from him. Every step drew her closer to him and revealed more detail of his appearance. He wore full royal regalia—gleaming gold trim, military medals and that scarlet sash of power across his chest and, yes, even one feather. He stood straight and strong and so serious, but as she finally drew alongside him she saw the smile in his eyes and a teasing twitch of his lips.
The ceremony was full of pomp just as he’d promised. There were trumpets, choirs, a cellist...but she barely noticed them. Nor did she really see the beautiful floral arrangements and the stunningly attired guests. He sucked all her attention.
It seemed to take for ever, yet passed in a flash. She was vitally aware of him breathing beside her, so close yet distant, and every moment watched by millions. She grew stupidly nervous after reciting her vows. Her mouth dried and she swallowed back her anxiety. Why had she shot down the idea of a practice kiss? They’d probably bump noses, or clash teeth or something even more awkward in front of the world. It was mortifying. And it would be replayed over and over, immortalised in memes on the Internet for ever. The ‘world’s worst kiss’.
Terrified, she looked at Alek. That knowing glint of good humour in his eyes grew and his lips curved enough to set the dimples free. She couldn’t hold back her own impish smile in response. This whole thing? It was ridiculous. And suddenly it was fun, this secret contract between them.
He bent nearer, so very slowly. Utterly still, she expected only a brief peck.
It was a gossamer brush of his lips over hers, so gentle that she wouldn’t have been sure it had happened if she hadn’t seen him. But he lingered and her eyes drifted shut as intimacy was unleashed in that lightest, purest of touches. She yearned to capture it—to stop time and bask in the warmth and connection from such slight pressure.
He pulled back and smiled again right into her eyes as she blinked and returned to the world. The roaring cheers of the crowd seeped through the stone walls and a ripple of audible pleasure ran through the guests present in the magnificent palace chapel. He drew her hand through his arm and escorted her down the long aisle. The noise of the applause boomed tenfold as the church door was opened for them to exit. They stood for a long moment on the top step, smiling at the scores and scores of people—the crowd stretched as far as she could see.
‘Hester.’
She heard his soft command and faced him. The wicked laughter in his eyes was for her alone.
‘Steel yourself, sweetheart,’ he muttered.
She was ready and more willing than she wanted to admit. But he knew, didn’t he? She saw the triumph in his eyes as he bent towards her.
This kiss lingered. This kiss lit something else—there was more than a gossamer caress, there was a hint of intent and she couldn’t stop her own response—the parting gasp of delight that allowed him in.
But instead he pulled back. She saw his face only briefly but the smile was gone from his eyes—replaced by blazing intensity and an arrogant tilt to his jaw and suddenly he was back. Stealing a third. This last kiss
was not chaste. He crushed her lips with his in a too-brief stamp of passion that promised so much more than it ought to—the sweep of his tongue commanding a response that she couldn’t withhold. Heat and power surged through her as his hands tightened—holding her firm while promising even more. Still dignified, but so, so dangerous. It was only a moment, but one that changed her irrevocably. Because she’d been the one to moan in regret when it ended. She’d never wanted it to end.
‘That was three, not two,’ she breathed, trying to whip up some fury but failing. She was too floored, too unstable in containing her feelings.
‘So sue me,’ he breathed back before laughing delightedly. ‘What are you going to do about it standing here in front of the world?’
‘Stop it, all the lip-readers will interpret what you’re saying and they’ll know this is—’
‘You stop talking. I’m not even moving my lips. Ventriloquising is a talent of mine. Learned it from a very early age. You do when you’re filmed and photographed at every possible opportunity.’
She giggled as she knew he’d intended. ‘Is it even a word?’