Chapter Four #2
She’d been sent to America during holidays to spend time with her mother, but her mother hadn’t liked to be reminded of the fact that her marriage had failed and, also, she’d been busy trying to keep her successful businessman husband happy, so invariably Poppy had been left to her own devices there too.
Her father had insisted on having main custody only because of a law that decreed the crown heir had to be resident in Valdere. She’d always known as soon as one of her stepmothers had a son, Poppy would most likely have been sent to live with her mother full-time. But none of them had.
She brought her focus back to the present moment.
‘It would be good if we can just appear to be united. As much for stability as for the baby’s sake.
Once the pregnancy news is released and people realise how far along I am, gossip will be inevitable, but hopefully the prospect of a new royal baby will drown it out. ’
Caius’s eyes were so blue it almost hurt to look at them.
Poppy couldn’t help but feel he was seeing into her all the way deep down where she longed to know what it felt like to be loved.
Really loved. She hated herself for that need, which felt more acute now that she was in a situation with someone who hated her.
‘You know what?’ she said, looking away. ‘Forget I said anything. If you can’t even bring yourself to pretend in public that we’re united then—’
Caius took her hand and Poppy’s words came to an abrupt stop. She looked up at him, her heart suddenly galloping.
He said, ‘I agree. I don’t want to make this any more challenging than it already will be for our child.’
Poppy had to concede at least that our child was an improvement on the child. At that moment guards opened the French doors and they walked forward and onto the balcony, hand in hand.
Poppy couldn’t help smiling at the sight of the thousands of people and her beautiful country sparkling in the sunshine with the great lake in the distance.
Her father’s rule hadn’t been popular. He’d been so preoccupied with an heir that he’d been a distracted and an increasingly bitter monarch, failing to enjoy what he had under his own nose. A beautiful country and a loyal people.
Even though most of them would know this wasn’t a love match, Poppy wanted to provide them with a sense of optimism and hope for a brighter future. They didn’t have to know that there was already a time limit on this marriage.
She lifted her hand and waved and Caius waved too.
Then it became apparent that the crowd were shouting something, some were saying ‘bacio’, Italian for kiss—one of the main languages in Valdere, nestled as it was between several countries.
Some were saying ‘bisou’ and most of them were saying ‘kiss, kiss’.
When Poppy looked at Caius he was holding his hand up to his ear as if he couldn’t hear them and smiling.
Her insides twisted. He could certainly act the part of a besotted newly-wed king.
Then he looked at her and Poppy promptly forgot about everyone.
All she could see was his mouth. He turned towards her and his free hand was on her jaw and then sliding around to the back of her neck under the low chignon.
He tugged her towards him and Poppy went, and then, as if in slow motion, Caius’s head came down, blocking out the sun, and his mouth settled on hers.
Warm and firm and…her insides caught fire as memories bombarded her.
Of kissing him the first time. Of the way she’d suddenly understood what desire was.
It was happening again except this time with the acute stab of hunger because she knew how good it could be. And she wanted him, with a lustiness that made her feel dizzy. She wasn’t prepared for when Caius pulled back, blinking up at him dizzily.
It was only the rapturous clapping and whooping of the crowd and the way Caius straightened up that brought Poppy back down to earth with a thud. She forced a smile back onto her face and waved again before they turned and went back into the formal reception room of the palace.
Aides were waiting. Poppy sought out Stephen’s familiar face and he looked at her quizzically as if to ask if she was OK.
She nodded her head minutely. But she was not OK.
She was a mass of swirling desires and recrimination and very aware of the man just feet away who was being divested of his ceremonial sash and the plumed hat that should have looked ridiculous on him but which had only enhanced his intense masculinity.
At least it wasn’t the custom to wear crowns in Valdere. Poppy’s head was beginning to ache just from the tiara she wore. The veil had been removed before she’d stepped out onto the balcony.
‘The guests await your arrival at the lunch reception, Your Highnesses.’ An aide was bowing before them.
They still had a whole formal state lunch banquet to get through before…what? Poppy wasn’t even sure what came next. It wasn’t as if she’d discussed it with Caius. He was here now, he’d done his duty to make this marriage and pregnancy legitimate.
‘Shall we?’
He was beside her, holding out his arm for her to put hers through. Looking about as enthused by this prospect as she was. She might have found that comforting in other circumstances.
‘Yes, let’s do this.’
As the sun set over the pretty Alpine city, turning the clear sky gold and orange, Caius took a moment and stepped onto an empty balcony off the corridor to breathe some air deep. He was waiting for Poppy to join him so they could enter the ballroom together for the first dance.
What a joke. The whole thing. And yet his conscience pricked. The day had gone off without a hitch. The formal lunch banquet had been refreshingly pleasant—the food unfussy and comprising simple seasonal dishes. There was a laid-back elegance to the proceedings.
It was a surprise because the impression Caius had gleaned of Valdere from his team’s research had been that, while it had potential, it was a country stuck culturally in its ways and times, full of the kind of pomp and frills that he hated.
Clearly Poppy had brought in fresh air and exactly the changes that Caius would have agreed with.
He saw her now in the corridor outside the main ballroom.
His wife. She was being attended to by a stylist who was adjusting her dress and a couple of women were touching up her hair and make-up.
She still wore the tiara and he guessed it must hurt after hours of wear.
He remembered how his crown had felt on his coronation day—heavy.
His gaze tracked down and, from this side angle, he could see the faint bulge of her belly. It still confounded him, the thought of a baby.
At that moment, as if aware of his gaze, she looked up and right at him.
Finding him without even trying. A strange sense of kinship took Caius by surprise and he remembered feeling it before, when she’d said, I’m no one special.
And that had been when he hadn’t even known just how unspecial he was.
He left the balcony and walked towards her. He said, ‘I’m sure you could take the tiara off now, if you want.’
Poppy put her hand up to it and glanced at one of her aides, a younger man Caius had heard her call Stephen. The man shrugged and said, ‘No real reason why not—we’re at the informal end of things. After the dance you’ll be free to leave.’
Poppy looked at one of the women. ‘Let’s take it off, then. My head is throbbing.’
Caius felt a spurt of something he couldn’t initially recognise as he watched the women carefully extract the tiara before tidying up her hair again. He realised it was concern. For her well-being. It had been a long day and she was pregnant. That was all.
She looked at him a little shyly as everyone melted away but for the man Stephen and a couple of other aides who were checking the ballroom. She gave a small smile. ‘Thanks for that. It was becoming almost unbearable.’
‘I know,’ Caius admitted, not liking how her smile made him want to study her mouth. ‘I had to wear my crown on my coronation day, for hours. I have to thank you for not making me wear a crown.’
‘My father, who was a traditionalist in every other way, had a thing about crowns. He did away with the requirement to wear them.’ Something minute crossed her face. ‘One of his better ideas.’
Caius found himself wondering about her relationship with the king. He knew she’d been an only child and that there had been the rule that she had to marry to become queen. She’d just said he’d been a tradionalist. He wanted to know more. And he never wanted to know more.
He’d made pretty much a career out of not wanting to know anything too personal about the women he’d been with…
telling himself that he was only protecting them from getting any notions that he was interested in a relationship, but, uncomfortably now, he could see that he’d also been protecting himself from getting attached.
Caius wasn’t completely delusional, he was well aware that the distinct lack of care in his upbringing had forged a strong desire to deflect everyone from the emptiness he felt inside. The fear that if anyone was to look too closely they’d see that he was really nothing substantial at all.
‘Ready, Your Highnesses.’
Caius looked away from Poppy to where a staff member was waiting at the closed doors for their cue. He put out his arm and Poppy slid hers into it. He put his hand over hers, an unconscious gesture.
He looked at her. ‘Ready?’
She nodded, looking forward. He said, ‘Open the doors.’
The doors swung back and the ballroom was revealed. Impressively majestic with rococo decoration. A parquet floor. Glittering chandeliers. And hundreds of pairs of eyes.
The music from a string quartet struck up as they walked in. A slow waltz. Everyone clapped. The crowd parted and they walked into the empty space in the middle of the room. Caius stood in front of Poppy and lifted her hand and put his arm around her back.