As she held his hand in both her warm ones, shadows in the misty depths of her eyes told him she had feared this day would never come for her daughter. It made him feel churlish for bristling when Trella had informed him her mother was coming.
“It’s an honor to have you here.” He was embarrassed now that his grandmother wasn’t attending, and that they hadn’t extended an invitation for Elisa to stay at the palace. His impatience with himself sharpened his tone as he told Trella, “You look beautiful.”
Her mouth tightened. “Thank you.” But she might have been speaking to Mario who handed her a bouquet.
Mario was Xavier’s witness, which suddenly felt like a disregard for the significance of the occasion. Xavier understood ceremony. His entire country was up in arms, wanting to witness this moment. The least he could have done was invite a friend to be his best man. He might not have many friends, but he had some.
Friends would come next year, though, when he married Patrizia in a spectacle he already dreaded.
Today’s occasion was far more to his liking, even though the exchange of words seemed to hold extra power when spoken in such an intimate setting, heard only by the three witnesses. Even those few extra pairs of eyes and ears fell away as he spoke directly to Trella, losing himself in the shift of gray and green in her irises.
When she said, “I do,” it reverberated within him, so visceral he knew that he would feel bound by this promise his entire life. She was his responsibility now, but he would have to turn away from her to perform the rest of his obligations. The war of dueling duties already hammered a crack into his psyche, causing a schism that would never heal.
“Do you have the ring?” the bishop asked.
“I’ll only have to remove it when I go into the hospital.” Trella waved off the case.
It was an unexpected swipe of claws at a part of him Xavier hadn’t realized he’d exposed. What did he care that she didn’t even glance at the ring he’d spent more than an hour dithering over, wanting it to match her sparkling, multi-faceted personality?
Her mother’s tiny sniff broke the silence. Mario smoothly withdrew the ring. The bishop quickly finished the ceremony.
“You may k-kiss the bride...” Everyone had got the memo this was not a conventional marriage.
Her wary gaze grew even more vulnerable.
Should he have forgone this custom? Probably. But he set his hand at her waist and drew her toward him.
She braced her forearm along his and clenched her fist into his jacket sleeve, leaning on him for balance as she offered her mouth.
He brought his hand to the side of her neck, felt the cool tickle of a few strands of hair, and reminded himself not to make a fool of himself. Keep it brief.
He nearly groaned at the onslaught of sensation when his mouth covered hers.
As tenuous as everything else might be, in this second, they were as united as they’d been in Paris. Everything in him wanted to deepen and ravish, requiring all his willpower to keep the kiss short and sweet.
Her mouth moved under his with equal restraint, but he tasted the desire for more in the way her lips clung to his. Paradise hovered like a promise, but he couldn’t surrender to whatever this thing was between them. All he could have was this. One kiss.
And it was already over.
* * *
“Mario tells me you wish to cancel Australia.” The Queen looked up from her breakfast. “Why?”
He had cancelled, if Mario had done his job. Xavier filled his plate and gave the butler a nod, sending him from the room so they could speak in private.
“Don’t play dumb,” he said as the door closed.
“It’s an important initiative.”
Unlike some of his counterparts, the royals of Elazar took specific, active roles in government. His entire year had been a series of trade talks in various regions. It wasn’t appearance for the sake of it, but business meetings and presentations to push for expansion of existing agreements that would keep his country from going bankrupt.
“She isn’t due for weeks,” his grandmother continued. “Even when she goes into labor, what help do you think you will be?”
“She’s alone in a strange country, stuck in the hospital. I’m not leaving for a month of press interviews where the first question will be, ‘Why aren’t you with your wife?’”
“Is that why you visit her every day? Because I’m told she keeps herself amused. Drawing. Chatting to family. You wouldn’t be missed.”
Perhaps not. Even Trella had asked if he was only visiting for appearances’ sake.
The press release on their marriage and impending parenthood had been short and vague, playing to concern for a successful pregnancy without going into detail. It had made Xavier sick to hear his team discuss how spinning the pregnancy as a miracle would create a groundswell of support, overcoming judgments about a scandalous, ill-timed affair.