Chapter Five
POPPY DIDN’T KNOW why she’d allowed Caius’s eagerness to leave Valdere again so soon to affect her.
She wasn’t calling it hurt. It couldn’t be that.
It was irritation. Anger, that he wasn’t willing to give up his time for a honeymoon, to shore up this facade that it was a real marriage.
That he hadn’t even read over the information her team had sent him.
But for a moment when they’d been dancing and talking with surprising ease she’d almost forgotten about where they were and how many people were watching them avidly. His observation about what she’d done already for Valdere and her father being blinkered had impacted her deeply.
It was as if they’d taken two steps forward and one back again.
She couldn’t help but admit to being disappointed at the evidence of his selfishness—focusing more on his money than his future child. She knew exactly the kind of person he was—she’d seen it first-hand and had the baby bump to prove it!
She couldn’t afford to forget he was the master seducer—it was obviously so ingrained he couldn’t help himself even with someone he didn’t like.
She liked his sister. She seemed down-to-earth, friendly. And the interplay between her and Caius had caught at Poppy’s chest because she’d seen genuine brother/sister affection. It reminded her of how lonely she’d always felt as an only child.
And the way things were working out, her child was destined to be another only child. Unless she followed her father’s footsteps and remarried after Caius shook himself free of this marriage, the prospect of which there was zero doubt in Poppy’s mind.
The island in the lake was a short boat ride from Valdere harbour.
There were just a few buildings on the island—the chateau and a church and outbuildings that housed the caretaking staff and seasonal workers who tended the vines that grew on one side of the small island.
They made a modestly good dessert wine from the vines.
Tourists came to visit for day trips and there was a cafe but it would be shut while they were in residence.
The boat came to a stop at the small island jetty and Caius got out and held out his hand to Poppy.
She wanted to scowl and tell him he didn’t have to bother pretending, it was just them and the staff now.
But she took his hand and tried to ignore the little shiver of awareness as his fingers closed over hers and he pulled her onto the small jetty.
She felt ridiculous in the wedding dress now and cursed Clotilde for persuading her to leave it on—clearly the woman had romantic delusions, or maybe Poppy had an illicit fantasy of Caius removing it on their wedding night?
A runaround golf buggy and driver were waiting for them.
The staff had arrived ahead of them with their bags.
Poppy couldn’t wait to sink into a hot bath and try and pretend today hadn’t happened.
And that she didn’t have to face days of looking at Caius’s stony expression, no doubt as he was counting down the minutes until he could escape again.
In the back of the buggy as it was driven up the winding road to the castle, Caius asked, ‘So what is this place?’
‘One of my ancestors built it. A great-great-grandfather. Apparently he built it for his mistress, uncaring of the fact that his wife, the queen, could see it every time she looked out of the window of the palace. Since then, my ancestors have reclaimed it and tried to sanitise its less than savoury history by making a tradition of using it for the newly-wed king and queens.’
‘Call me old-fashioned,’ Caius drawled, ‘but the Caribbean would be more my cup of tea for a honeymoon.’
Poppy had to admit that the thought of hot sun and translucent clear water and a white sand beach bordered by lush jungle sounded pretty idyllic too.
She could envisage Caius lounging on the sand, droplets of seawater on his dark golden body, a beautiful woman sliding her leg between his while a sleek yacht floated just offshore.
Her imagination mocked her and she turned to Caius and said with faux sweetness, ‘Haven’t you heard? The cold-water swimming our lake provides is far more benefical to your health.’
Caius made a sound halfway between a snort and a grunt. ‘I’ll have to get back to you on that.’
Great, now she had just as provocative images of him hauling himself out of the lake onto the rocks, muscles bulging.
The buggy came to a stop at the front of the chateau.
It never failed to make Poppy’s breath catch.
In the gathering dusk it looked even more magical, floodlit and with soft light coming out of the windows.
Ever since she’d been young it had always looked to her like a fairy-tale castle should look, even if it more resembled a grand country house.
The fairy-tale bit of it was a round building with a turret roof on one end. The stone could look almost pink on some days and then, as the evening drew in, it turned golden.
But she wasn’t in a fairy tale. She was here on her wedding night with a man who would prefer to be anywhere else. Any last hope that she’d ever secretly clung onto that things could be different for her had just died a death.
Staff were waiting at the open door and they were ushered inside. The housekeeper greeted them warmly and said, ‘We’ve prepared a light supper if you’re hungry?’
Poppy smiled at the woman who had taken care of this place for as long as she could remember. ‘Thank you, Maud. I might eat something after I’ve changed and had a bath.’
‘Of course, Your Highness. Chiara will go with you to your room to help you.’
Apparently even the housekeeper could read the situation and understand that the new king consort wouldn’t be helping her to undress.
For a moment Poppy felt intensely self-conscious.
Exposed. She pushed it down. She had nothing to feel exposed about.
She was doing the right thing. Giving her child legitimacy and a chance to know its father.
As reluctant as he was. And at least for now, he was doing his part.
The bare minimum, it had to be said. But it was better than nothing.
After the chateau’s mistress era, the master bedroom suite in the tower had been reconfigured into two interconnecting bedrooms with separate bathrooms and dressing rooms. As if things had to swing in a much more puritanical way to compensate for the licentiousness of her adulterous ancestor.
So now, at least, it meant that she and Caius could keep their distance.
Poppy overheard Caius asking Stephen to show him to the office to check up on some work.
Then he turned to her and must have seen the slightly dumbfounded expression on her face because he asked, ‘What? I don’t think a consummation of this marriage is necessary. ’
Poppy’s face flamed. Had she imagined him asking her if she wanted to pick up where they’d left off in his office in New York? It would seem so. Obviously that had just been a well-worn reflex.
‘I know it’s not necessary, believe me.’
He looked at her and then said, ‘Ah, you didn’t expect me to want to work, is that it? You thought I’d be calling for a helicopter to take me to the nearest nightclub?’
Now Poppy felt like squirming. ‘No, not exactly. I know you won’t leave the island.’
‘God forbid.’ He sounded so bitter that it caught Poppy in that vulnerable place and she couldn’t help asking, ‘Is it really that bad? You being married? Becoming a king? Even when it was what you’d prepared for your whole life?’
All the staff had melted away and it was just them in the reception hall. A pregnant bride and her very unwilling groom who had the audacity to look not weary at all, but vital and far too gorgeous for Poppy’s oversensitive hormones.
Caius dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it messy and even sexier. Poppy wanted to scowl.
Eventually he said, ‘Look, I know that this wasn’t your plan either.
However it would still have been your path with someone else, if not me.
But I’d been released from that obligation.
As much as I didn’t appreciate the circus around finding out I wasn’t the king’s son, I was free, for a moment, and only someone like you can appreciate what that means.
I also liked the fact that I no longer had the responsibility of having a child for one purpose only, to serve.
I won’t ever regret my background, it was incredibly privileged, but it was never a choice. ’
The problem was that Poppy could understand very well what Caius was saying, and empathise. And only for the fact that she hadn’t had a brother to inherit the crown, she could have tasted that freedom too.
She put her hand on her belly. ‘We can’t change our pasts.
I know the circumstances weren’t ideal but I want this child, and I will love him, or her.
They will never be made to feel like they’ve been born for one purpose, or that they have no choice.
I know you feel like you’re not here by choice, but you did choose to sacrifice your freedom for this child. You did the right thing.’
A short while later, on the balcony just beyond the French doors of the book-lined room where Poppy’s staff had set up a working office for him, Caius looked into the inky darkness broodingly.
At first he would have denied Poppy’s words that he’d had a choice in anything to do with this situation, but she was right.
He could have turned his back on her and denied any involvement until the baby was born and had paternity proved. But he also knew he couldn’t have. Because no matter what kind of a devil-may-care persona he’d cultivated, he’d never really erred too far from what was acceptable.
He wasn’t a monster. He wouldn’t have put Poppy in that position under intense public scrutiny and judgement.