She looked down at it, could feel the thud-thud-thud of her heart against her ribcage as she stared down at the ring that represented a commitment so huge. The colours of the stones were a combination of the Casavalle and Aguilarez flags. The ring a reminder that their marriage was an alliance, a proud alliance, and it would be a happy one.
‘It’s beautiful. Truly beautiful.’ And then he kissed her. This kiss was different; she knew it from the moment his lips touched hers. It was a kiss of affirmation, a statement kiss, and it called up a deep desire, one that tugged and demanded and yearned for more. This was the first of a lifetime of kisses and she shivered as she pressed against him, felt the pull of possession, the realisation that from now on they belonged to each other.
‘I think we should get married very soon,’ he said. ‘What do you think of a Christmas wedding, on the eve of Christmas?’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes. I think it makes sense to marry before your coronation in the new year. And for entirely personal reasons I would like to marry you sooner rather than later.’
She had no problem with that—her insides still positively squirmed with desire. ‘Works for me. On both points. But do you think we can organise it in time?’
‘As long as you are happy with a smaller, more private ceremony. It will be too late for foreign dignitaries to rearrange their Christmas schedules.’
‘But most of them will come to the coronation anyway and I would much prefer a smaller wedding. And we could honeymoon here. Back in the castle.’ Spend Christmas Day in front of the tree they had decorated together, lie in front of the fire as husband and wife.
‘Then let’s make this happen.’
* * *
The days that followed were a whirlwind, of publicity, organisation, planning, there was so much to do: a dress to choose, a reception to organise, a guest list to negotiate.
At least, though, the wedding was to be small. The two royal families would of course attend, with the exception of Meribel, who had decided that she didn’t want any adverse publicity to spoil her brother’s marriage. And not even Cesar’s words would budge her. Other than family there were diplomatic friends and colleagues of Cesar, and Gabi had invited Jonas, who managed the book store, and Rachel, an old friend from Crystal Lake, along with her husband, Tom, and baby Ben.
Then finally her wedding day dawned.
Gabi spent the morning almost in a daze as she got ready. There was little point in pretending she had any input. Imogen, Luca, Tia and Antonio had arrived back in Casavalle the previous day and now Imogen and Tia had taken charge. Gabi had attempted to point out she was a grown woman, not a doll, had also suggested that at seven months pregnant maybe Tia should be resting. But this last had been met with a most unladylike snort from Tia herself.
‘Compared to waitressing, pregnancy is a doddle. Plus, Antonio spent the whole honeymoon fussing over me.’
‘The whole honeymoon?’ Imogen asked, her eyebrows raised in a suggestive wiggle.
All three women fell into gales of laughter as Tia admitted, ‘Well, maybe not quite all. But my point is that I have plenty of energy and I wouldn’t miss helping you get ready for the world. I’ll just keep the tea coming and I’ll be fine.’
Tia’s love of a good cup of tea was known by all and so they took turns boiling the kettle as they set to work.
Gabi sat back and let them get on, watched her reflection as she morphed into a bride. Her hair was expertly coaxed into gentle waves that seemed to gloss down to her shoulders in a chestnut waterfall. The make-up was subtle but effective, brought out the depth of brown in her eyes, accentuated the height of her cheekbones.
And then the dress. Gabi had known from the instant she saw it that it was The One. The one that she hoped would stop Cesar in his tracks. It was deceptively simple, long sleeved with an eye-catching wide neckline that cleverly twisted around her shoulders to fall into a low back. The gown was made of a dense weave fabric with a subtle yet distinctive flower motif. The fitted bodice topped a full pleated skirt at the front and a long flowing train at the back.
Now she was ready and there was a tsunami of panic in her tummy; nerves fluttered and curled in waves as the royal party made the short journey across to the Casavallian chapel.
‘You ready?’ Luca asked as they stood at the doors to the ancient stone church.
‘I’m ready.’
They stepped forward and now all she could see was Cesar—he filled her vision as each step took her closer to him, each step matched the breadth and thrum of the swell of music, that seemed to roll and wave in the air in recognition of the moment. Each step so significant, each pound of her heart stronger. He was so goddamn beautiful, this soon-to-be husband of hers, who waited at the altar, a smile lurking on his lips and in his eyes. A smile that encouraged her to keep moving forward. His gaze encompassed her, made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world for him.
For a fraction of an insidious second, she realised that she was—the only Queen of Casavalle in the vicinity. He would be marrying any woman who wore the crown. For a second, she almost faltered, sensed Luca’s grip on her arm tighten, oh, so slightly, as if in question.
Then she looked at Cesar again, and he gave the smallest, quickest of winks and suddenly it was all OK again. Now she had reached the altar and he smiled down at her; his gaze unfaltering; no hint of doubt flecked the dark chocolate-brown depths.
Next came the vows, made in this historic beautiful church that had seen so many other royal marriages take place. These walls had witnessed so much, joy and pain, life, death, christenings... So many rulers of Casavalle would have been wed here, indeed her own mother must have wed her father here. The idea sent a shiver down her spine.
Cesar spoke each word clearly and she followed his lead, focused on each syllable, until it got to the vow to love and honour and then there was a beat of hesitation, so fleeting she was sure no one but the two of them would have noted it.
Then it was done.
They were husband and wife, wedlocked.