Chapter Eight #2
Chantilly lace, with a train embroidered with white alyssum, the national flower of Cartana. Those flowers also formed part of her gorgeous bouquet, bordered by purple lilies. It was hands down the most exquisite gown Eden had ever seen. The gown several Cartanian institutions had already promised her the earth for if she would donate it to their collection, even without having seen it yet.
While Sabeen had grown misty-eyed when Eden had donned the gown, Eden’s own tears had come from a deeper well of swirling emotions.
Bells pealed from the basilica with the precision of a Swiss watch the second Eden stepped out of the exquisite four-horse-drawn royal carriage, and the soaring of meticulously trained white-tailed eagles overhead in salute drew a roar and thunderous cheers from the gathered throng who were throwing themselves wholeheartedly into the day that had been declared a holiday kingdom-wide.
Since her father would never figure in her wedding plans, or in her future, and the King was too feeble to walk her down the aisle, Azar’s uncle—a rather stern-faced bishop—had been chosen for the task.
Eden was partly glad she didn’t need to make conversation with him, and partly sad for the absence of any support for a jittery bride—especially one thrown into such extreme circumstances as she. Especially after her mother had eventually admitted, after much prodding, that she’d been newly released from rehab and, on her counsellor’s advice, wouldn’t attend. News the palace had scrambled to hide, and Eden had shed silent tears over.
Enough of that—woman up!
Long, deep breaths as they reached the imposing doors of the basilica calmed her a little. Enough to steep herself in the moment, pushing away thoughts of what her future with Azar would be like.
She’d made this decision with her head, so even if her heart seemed inexplicably to be ramming itself against the fortifications she’d thrown up to protect it, so be it.
The staggering number of dignitaries, heads of nations and celebrities had been one thing when they’d been mere names on a list—seeing them in person lent even more gravity to the occasion.
Queen Fabiana sat ramrod-straight in her barely contained disapproval, her nose in the air, while a slightly improved King Alfonso and Max sat next to each other, their heads together in whispered conversation that made the old man smile. The press release about his existence—coupled with that uncanny picture of Azar as Max’s age—had been a stroke of genius that had had the kingdom instantly falling in love with her son.
But, as always, her gaze was compelled to the imposing figure poised at the altar, flanked by his half-brothers. The multi-hued sunlight streaming through the basilica windows fell dramatically upon him, casting his dark bronze hair, his profile and his whole body in a celestial glow she would have thought was photoshopped if she hadn’t been staring at the real-life, jaw-dropping thing.
Against the protocol drummed into them during their wedding rehearsals, he had turned to watch her progress with an interest that bordered on rabid. Those eyes connected with hers through the filmy veil, and the weak-kneed, shivery sensation that jolted through her body almost made her stumble. In that moment she was grateful for the bishop’s arm, but even that grew insubstantial when she finally arrived and Azar held out his hand.
Imperious. Possessive.
No hope for escape.
She stepped up to him and… Was it a trick of the light, or did he exhale in what looked like relief?
But the almost arrogant possessiveness in his gaze when it slid over her told her it had all been in her mind.
Again discarding protocol, he seized her hand, lifted it to his lips and rasped, ‘Eres diosa de la belleza.’
Half a dozen of the two dozen knots inside her eased. And while she didn’t entirely understand his words, she caught goddess and beauty and greedily let their confidence boost wash over her, grateful for one right, if superficial, thing.
And perhaps it was that possessive streak that kept his hand clasped around hers, or perhaps he sensed she might do the unthinkable and bolt from the centuries-old basilica, the hundreds of guests assembled be damned. Or perhaps it was something as simple as him doing her a strategic kindness.
She chose that option to keep her grounded, present enough to register that she was indeed marrying Azar Domene, tying herself to him for life.
The vows were said.
Priceless rings exchanged.
The official wedding pictures were taken.
And while it all felt as interminable as every royal task seemed, seeing her son dressed in a dashing formal suit, smiling and looking as cute as a button, soothed her with a swell of love so strong it made her blink away tears.
Or maybe it was the overwhelming sense that she was now tied for ever to the Royal House of Domene. That her name henceforth would be Princess Eden Domene of Cartana. Soon-to-be… Queen.
She gulped at the thought, and felt Azar’s razor-sharp gaze on her.
‘Are you in need of bolstering again, tesoro ? I’m happy to help.’
Remembering just how he’d bolstered her in her last bout of shaken confidence, she quickly shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’m fine.’
The faintest trace of amusement twitched his mouth. ‘That’s disappointing.’
‘There are a dozen photographers in here. Whisking me into a corner for a dirty little fumble will cause a scandal.’
His lips twisted. ‘Not really. Not when they’ve all sworn in blood to remain loyal to me and are trained to overlook salacious things like a king and his queen engaging in…dirty little fumbles.’
Surprise punched though her. ‘Are you serious?’
His amusement intensified, and she vaguely caught a flashbulb as one of the cameras captured the Crown Prince’s moment of humour.
‘About the blood? Not quite—our bloodthirsty days are behind us. But you get my general meaning.’
She did. Like his father before him, he commanded the utmost respect and loyalty. For some reason, that show of humour, eased the tension inside her. Enough to tease out a smile of her own.
His eyes darkened as his gaze raked her face. And right there another moment of intense connection snapped between them. It was broken once more by the flash of a camera that made her want to grit her teeth and snap at the photographers to leave them be.
‘Easy, mi reina . Our wedding day isn’t the right time to unsheathe your pretty little claws. There will be time for that later.’
Her breath caught, and the urge to demand to know when pounded through her. She curbed it, and sat through another fifteen minutes of picture-taking, all the while painfully aware of being under intense scrutiny—especially from her new mother-in-law.
Queen Fabiana was the only person not fully embracing the momentous event of her son’s wedding. Even now she sat primly in a wing-backed chair, surrounded by her retinue who wore equally disapproving looks mostly aimed at Eden.
It was a relief when the royal event co-ordinator announced that it was time to move on to the reception—a much smaller event hosting a few hundred specially selected guests.
For the next hour she danced in her new husband’s arms, then with both brothers-in-law—one all sly smiles and ribbing her about the traps of matrimony she’d willingly walked into, the other his polar opposite, with piercing eyes probing far beneath the surface.
‘What exactly are you looking for?’ she asked Valenti Domene. ‘Maybe if you told me I could save us both the silent third degree?’
‘Treat my brother well, and you and I needn’t have a problem.’
She gasped. ‘Are you threatening me?’
He shrugged. ‘When it comes to my family and those I care about there’s nothing I won’t do. Remember that, Your Highness.’
Before she’d summoned a response Azar was there, smoothly reclaiming her, his gaze ten times more potent than his brother’s.
‘What was that all about?’ he enquired silkily, even as his deep voice pulsed with slivers of danger.
‘Looks like your mother’s not the only one who doesn’t like me.’
His eyes grew sharp. Deadly. But it was directed at his departing brother. ‘What did Valenti say to you?’
Striving to retain her dwindling composure, she asked a question that seared in its delivery. ‘Do you care?’
His frown rumbled louder than a thunderbolt. ‘I care. Tell me.’
She shook her head, fixing a smile on her face as a couple of dignitaries waltzed past, the woman’s gaze sparking clear envy. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m used to being tarred with a certain brush because of my mother,’ she muttered, then grimaced inwardly.
When was she going to learn to keep past turmoil from dogging her present?
‘I don’t wish you to be hurt. Or for the sins of your mother to be visited on you. By anyone. Including my brother.’
That final sentence was a gruff admission. One that made her gaze fly over his chiselled chin and that infernally hot dimple within it to his meet his eyes.
His slight hesitation hurt, despite her knowing that he was entirely justified to take his brother’s side.
‘It’s okay,’ she muttered airily, fighting to keep her smile in place. ‘He’s your family. I understand.’
The fierce gleam in his eyes deepened. ‘You are my family too—or have you already forgotten our vows?’ he rasped.
The hurt deepened. But the sudden flash of remorse in his eyes stopped her blurting out something she might regret.
‘ Perdoname. That wasn’t deserved,’ he said. ‘You have risen to everything admirably.’ He hesitated for a beat, then added, ‘And I don’t wish to start this with discord.’
Eden swallowed, blinking rapidly when emotions surged. Maybe she should’ve given in to the urge to bawl her eyes out this morning in the bathroom, when the enormity of the day, of knowing she’d be going through it alone, without a loving family, had weighed her down. Maybe then she wouldn’t be feeling quite so…overwhelmed now.
Digging deep, she shook it away. ‘Then let’s not.’
She attempted a more genuine smile, and to her surprise felt her heart lurch wildly when he reciprocated. And when Sabeen swayed towards them, holding an enraptured Max and trailed by a surprisingly sombre Teo, Eden didn’t bother debating if the smile had been for her or for their son.
‘I think this little guy wants his mamá and papá ,’ Sabeen said, her smile beatific as she smiled down at Max.
Azar claimed their son with one arm, while keeping the other around her, and Eden told herself she wasn’t going to wish for a few more of those smiles, just so she could test herself and see if her heart continued to leap in that maddeningly thrilled way again.
Instead, she joined Azar as he threw away the protocol book, wrapped her and his son in his embrace, and swayed across the floor. Applause rang out in the ballroom when Max kissed her cheek, and Azar followed suit with a kiss on the other.
She was brought back down to earth when, after being whisked away by a fleet of royal SUVs to the mountain retreat where generations of Cartana royal couples had spent their wedding nights, Azar showed her to the suite adjoining his, asked if she needed help taking off her gown, and after she said no merely inclined his head.
And walked away.
* * *
‘Good morning, Your Highness.’
She shot an exasperated glare at Gaspar, his insistence on bowing and using the still disconcerting title souring her mood further.
Three days they’d been at the mountain retreat. Thankfully Max, after she’d had to spend her first ever night away from him, had now arrived with Nadia. But even he only occupied only half of her time. She was nowhere near used to having great swathes of her life organised with military precision.
And apparently part of the operation was Azar meddling where he wasn’t wanted.
‘Where is he?’
She forced an even tone. It wasn’t Gaspar’s fault if she was bristling with unspent energy after discovering what Azar had done.
‘Having his breakfast on the west terrace with the young Prince. He said you weren’t to be disturbed if you wanted to sleep in.’
Her lips pursed. She wasn’t going to worry about what the staff thought of her and Azar inhabiting separate suites. They were probably used to such arrangements. Still, she couldn’t avoid that barb in her heart as she tossed her freshly styled hair and hunted him down.
Only to slow metres from the French doors, her attention rigidly captured by the sight father and son made, resplendent in the morning light.
They were completely absorbed in each other, carrying on a conversation that had them both wreathed in smiles, even though she was fairly sure Max was mostly babbling. The barb turned into an acute yearning, digging in deeper where it really shouldn’t. Uncovering her secret desire for love and a family that she’d buried for so long.
Azar’s head snapped up, his eyes zeroing in on her.
‘ Buenos dias. Something on your mind, cara ?’ he murmured, although the probing gaze searched her face for more. Just as it had done since they arrived here.
It was almost as if he was waiting for… something .
Eden pushed that mystery away and stepped out onto the terrace.
‘You’ve moved my mother to a mansion ?’
She’d seen the jaw-dropping floor plans. The list of staff that included a butler, maid, gardener and chef.
Her mother’s call out of the blue half an hour ago had triggered in Eden that age-old yearning that maybe this time her contact would be selfless. That her parent would be seeking her out for something other than a handout.
She had been…to an extent. Her mother had called beside herself with shock and excitement at her new son-in-law’s generosity. But while Eden had been pleased for her, the alarm bells shrieking in her head couldn’t be ignored.
His eyes flicked to the phone she was waving at him, then reconnected with hers. He was the picture of regal casualness, a completely magnificent creature even the sun worshipped, its golden rays perfectly framing his aristocratic bone structure.
‘She’s the mother of my future queen and the grandmother of a prince. She’s just finished rehab. You expect me to leave her in a halfway house one street away from a place un-ironically known as Crack Cocaine Alley?’
Effrontery dripped from him, as if he was aghast that she dared question him.
‘I— Of course not— But I don’t know what you want in return.’ She knew it had been a poor choice of words when his face clenched hard. ‘Look, I didn’t mean—’
His raised hand told her to stop speaking, and she bristled as he said, ‘Yes. You did.’
‘I’m sorry, okay? It’s just that nothing in this world comes for free. And I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.’
Slowly, he rose to his feet. ‘Very well, then. What are you offering in return for my generosity?’
Her eyes goggled. ‘What?’
He laughed. Low, deep, and so sexy she wanted to slap her own face to restore her fast-fleeing sanity. And wouldn’t that be hilarious in the extreme?
‘You’re such a sexy little contradiction…aren’t you, tesoro ? You insist nothing in life comes for free, and therefore expect to pay a toll, and yet when I suggest you do so you look shocked. Even before I’ve made—for all you know—the most benign of requests.’
Sexy. The word ricocheted in her head, setting off little fireworks throughout her body until she was once more— dammit —a mass of seething need.
‘You’re suggesting I’m wrong?’ she asked.
‘I’m suggesting you don’t jump the gun so enthusiastically.’
‘Fine. What do you want, then?’ she asked, unable to contain the breathless hitch in her voice.
He pinned her with his gaze as he slowly walked towards her. ‘Three things. You ride with me every morning. When I have to tour the country by train before autumn sets in you and Max will come too. And for the next year when duty requires that I travel you’ll both come with me.’
Her eyes widened. ‘That’s it?’
One corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. ‘What did you think? That I would demand payment in flesh?’
A flush engulfed her face, and her body reacted predictably to the rising heat in his eyes. ‘It isn’t out of the realm of possibility…’
‘Because I’m a red-blooded male and you’re a beautiful woman?’
She couldn’t stop the punch of pleasure and heat at his compliment, but she pressed her lips together to stop herself from blurting out the yes that rushed to the tip of her tongue.
He was continuing anyway. ‘That may be true—and, yes, I’m aware our chemistry still blazes hard and true—but I’ve never bartered for sex, querida , and I’m not about to start. Especially with my wife. When you come to my bed it’ll be of your own free will.’
‘ When? You’re that sure of yourself?’
‘When you can’t get through a conversation with me without staring at my mouth and my body…wondering or trying to recollect what came between us and squirming with consuming need which you stoically attempt to throttle? Yes, mi linda . I do believe it’s just a matter of time before you succumb.’
Her laugh emerged husky, and not at all as carefree as she’d hoped for. ‘I’m almost tempted to bet everything I own on that never happening.’
His nostrils flared in a blatantly masculine scenting that made her pulse race faster.
‘A wise choice not to—since I’m certain you will lose.’
‘If this is some reverse psychology thing—’
‘It’s a stating facts thing. And in the short term, when it happens it entirely up to you. But take this with you when you flounce away, as I’m sure you’re about to. It’s only a matter of time before you’re naked on all fours, with all that exquisite hair coiled in rope around my wrist to hold you still as I drive into you.’
She’d half expected him to argue with her when she came out here. Instead she was drowning in a storm of licentiousness when he leaned down and brushed a shockingly platonic kiss on her cheek.
‘Now, are you joining us for breakfast?’
‘I… I don’t think I have an appetite.’
‘Have a good day, then, cara . I look forward to our first ride together in the morning. And the many rides to come after that.’