A Royal Proposition

CHAPTER TEN

TAKING the kids on their honeymoon didn’t make it less romantic, Alastair decided a few days later. It made it more so. After initial polite protests, the kids had agreed to accompany them. They intended to have a great time but they also intended their sister to have a honeymoon to remember for ever.

Which included romantic seclusion.

‘We want to spend time with you,’ both Penny-Rose and Alastair protested, but their words fell on deaf ears.

‘Well, we don’t want to spend time with you,’ Heather declared. ‘So this morning we’ve booked the catamarans. One each. We’re having lessons and the instructor can only take three, so you guys will just have to find something else to do. Hmm. I wonder what?’ She threw them a cheeky grin and disappeared.

Which left them alone. Again.

‘I…I’ll take a walk,’ Penny-Rose said, and Alastair gazed at her in exasperation. In three days she hadn’t relaxed once, and the island wasn’t big enough to stay away from each other for ever.

‘Can I come with you?’

She appeared to give it serious thought. As if she didn’t really want to. ‘I… If you like.’

‘I do like.’

Of course he liked. Who wouldn’t? OK, it might be unwise, but in a simple sarong, with her hair hanging free and her nose sporting a touch of sunburn, she looked almost breathtakingly lovely. What man could resist walking beside a woman like this?

Especially when that woman was his wife. 146

In name only!

He had to keep reminding himself of that. Ever since they’d arrived they’d been treated as being very much in love, and formality was harder and harder to maintain.

The sleeping arrangements were the hardest. There were three guest cottages on the island-gorgeous thatched bures. If Alastair and Penny-Rose had done what they’d first planned and had the island to themselves, they could have had a cottage each. But Liz and Heather had taken one and Michael another. Which left only the honeymoon suite.

The suite was gorgeous. Built right on the edge of the waves, whenever they liked they could push back the folding walls so that sea air and moonlight drifted right into the room with them. Simple but beautifully built, it was almost erotic in its design, with one enormous bed taking up over half the room.

So… The sensible plan had been to place a row of cushions down the middle of the bed.

It worked-sort of. But the trace of shadows under Rose’s eyes told Alastair that she was feeling the strain almost as much as he was.

She was so near and yet so far.

She was his wife!

She was his paid companion for a year, he reminded himself harshly as they walked slowly along the sand. Nothing more. He couldn’t let her any closer than this. Otherwise when it ended he’d go nuts.

Did it have to end?

Yes, he told himself fiercely. It must. Even if he was stupid enough to lose his heart, there was Belle to consider.

And it was just plain stupid to let himself lose his heart. Hadn’t life taught him anything?

‘Penny for them?’ Penny-Rose asked, and he lifted his head with surprise. They were in the shallows, barefooted and kicking their way through the foam. Alastair was wearing his bathing trunks and nothing else. Which was just as well. Any minute now he could end up swimming.

If things became too hot…

‘I beg your pardon?’ He had trouble forcing his thoughts from where they’d been straying.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ she repeated. ‘You look away with the fairies.’

He managed a smile. ‘Was I? Sorry. I was thinking of Belle.’

Penny-Rose’s smile faded. Belle. Of course. She was between them all the time. ‘You must miss her.’

‘I… Yes.’

‘This’ll be hard on you both,’ Penny-Rose admitted. ‘Knowing how beautiful this is…’ She brightened a little. ‘Still, the fact that my sisters and brother are here must make it easier for her.’

‘I…’ Hell, concentrate! Make yourself talk sensibly, he told himself. ‘It does. Belle approves of the idea.’

‘I’m glad.’

But Belle had called Rose ‘the creature’.

Alastair looked across at the creature in question. The soft breeze was blowing her hair into a tumble of riotous curls. The sun was warm on her face and she was lifting her nose to smell the sea.

‘Isn’t it gorgeous?’ she breathed, and he was forced to smile his agreement.

‘Absolutely.’ But he wasn’t talking about what she was talking about.

Maybe he’d better head for the water!

But beside him Penny-Rose had paused. Far out in the bay, just around the headland from where they were, she could see three little catamarans. Her siblings were having a ball. She watched for a while, and then sighed and smiled.

‘I want to thank you,’ she said seriously. ‘Alastair, what you’re doing for us…’

‘I’m doing it for me.’

‘I don’t think you are,’ she said softly. Before he could stop her she’d caught his hand and was tracing the strong lines below the wrist. ‘I think you’re doing this for your tenants and for Belle and for your mother-and for me. But maybe not for you. I’m starting to know that you don’t really want to be royalty.’

‘Being royalty can’t hurt.’ The feel of her hand was unnerving. One part of him wanted to pull away.

The other part of him wanted to move in closer.

‘You dislike the publicity.’

‘I… Yes.’

‘It’ll get worse.’

‘For a while.’

‘Because of our marriage?’

‘I guess.’

‘And the divorce at the end-there’ll be a heck of a fuss.’

‘I can cope.’ He shrugged. A year was starting to seem a very long way away.

‘I wish I could make it easier for you.’

The only way she could make things easier was to leave right now. He was starting to feel as if he was being torn in two. To have her so near…

‘Come in for a swim,’ he suggested, and she kicked up some water with her toes.

‘I wish I could.’

He’d forgotten. Again.

She couldn’t swim. He’d discovered it on the first day. The others had somehow managed to learn but his wife hadn’t been so fortunate. In her tough childhood, there’d simply never been time.

And Alastair hadn’t found the courage to say what he most wanted to say. That he’d teach her.

Because how could he teach her without touching her? And how could he touch her without-?

He hauled his hand away and grimaced. ‘OK. You do your splashing bit and I’ll do my lap stuff.’

Which was fine, he thought savagely as he stroked strongly in deep water. This way he could put some of his unused physical energy to good use. So far this holiday he must have swum for twenty miles or more. Every time things got too much for him he swam while Rose enjoyed herself in the shallows.

Did she enjoy herself?

Of course she did, he told himself. She’d never been to the beach. It was a novelty. The shallows were enough!

He was being mean!

But if he wasn’t mean…that way led to disaster. Teaching her to swim… Letting her close…

Alastair paused but as he did so a movement caught his eye. Entranced, he trod water and watched.

Out past the breakers, where the waves were forming into massive, rolling swells, a pod of dolphins had come in to surf. They were darting into the sapphire crests, row upon row of them-there had to be thirty-using the force of the waves to surf gloriously toward shore.

Alastair was just far enough out to see. They were past the sand-bar which created the lagoon effect where Alastair swam and Rose paddled. Between sand-bar and the beach, the water sloped gently, meaning he had to be a hundred yards from the beach before he could swim.

And that meant Rose could hardly see the dolphins from where she was.

She’d love them. Alastair watched the sea creatures for a moment longer, and then he glanced back at Rose. She was lying full length in the shallows, letting the foam trickle through her toes. She was wearing a crimson bikini, and nothing more.

She looked blissfully happy, and very, very lovely.

But the dolphins were a sight to be seen maybe once in a lifetime, Alastair thought desperately. She should see them.

She couldn’t see them from where she was. Not properly.

And there was a channel fifteen or twenty feet wide of deep water between shore and the sand-bar. That was where he’d been swimming.

Maybe she’d trust him to tow her through the deep water to where the sand-bar created a ledge, he thought. If she let him do that, then they could both see.

To have him carry her through deep water when she couldn’t swim she’d have to trust him absolutely.

And suddenly there was no reason why not. And every reason why.

‘Rose,’ he shouted, and started over to where she lay. ‘Come and see. It’s magic.’

And it was magic. As was her trust. She lay limply in his hold, totally reliant on his strength as he carried her out to sea. And he knew how reliant she must be. The channel of deep water was maybe only fifteen feet wide, but for a non-swimmer to trust that much was no mean feat.

‘Kick your legs,’ he said, and felt her do just that.

Her courage was immutable. She was some lady!

But touching her, towing her strongly alongside him in the deep water with his arm holding her close…

This was an indescribable sensation!

Finally he felt the sand-bar rise underneath him, and he guided her feet so she could stand.

But then, somehow, he didn’t-couldn’t-quite let her go. After all, he had to guide her so she was looking toward the dolphins. And they were still near deep water, so if she fell he’d have to support her.

And she felt so good by his side. So right!

But she seemed almost unaware of the man by her side. She was totally focussed on the dolphins.

And why not? For someone who’d never been to the beach, the creatures were entrancing. They surfed and tumbled and dived, swimming for the sheer exuberance of being alive. Time after time, they darted into the waves, streaming through the sapphire waters, their bodies like glinting silver arrows, and the joy they felt was almost a tangible thing.

‘They’re just…they’re just magic,’ Rose whispered, and Alastair could only agree. It was magic.

The whole morning was magic. This place. The island. The dolphins, the sun on his face…

This woman!

And then, as suddenly as they’d appeared, the dolphins departed, backing out of the waves and leaping and cresting along the shoreline, around the headland and off to thrill the three younger ones on their catamarans.

‘Do you think they’re paid by the island management?’ Penny-Rose whispered, her voice still awed, and Alastair managed a smile. It was a wonder he could manage anything. His body was doing very, very strange things.

His head was also doing strange things!

But he had to force his voice to sound normal. ‘With the price we’re paying, they’ve probably been trained in Miami,’ he told her, and then he laughed at the expression on her face. ‘Nope. They were the real thing, lady. Totally wild and totally free, giving us the performance of their lives just for their pleasure. And ours.’

She closed her eyes, and he felt her take it all in. The sheer loveliness of it. The wonder.

And then she opened her eyes again and he saw that the real world had intruded. She shifted away from him-imperceptibly, but it was a shift for all that.

‘Take me back to shore,’ she said simply. ‘Thank you for bringing me out, but it’s time my feet hit the ground.’

‘You should be able to swim,’ he growled, and she nodded.

‘Yes.’ She couldn’t quite keep the note of wistfulness from her voice. ‘But I can’t. So I need a tow. And then you can get back to your swimming.’

And all at once Alastair couldn’t bear it. She asked for nothing, he thought savagely. She gave and gave and gave. If he hadn’t had a damned good reason-like saving the tenants’ livelihoods-for this marriage, she’d never have made it.

She wouldn’t marry for profit. She wouldn’t do anything for profit, he thought. Not for herself.

‘Would you like to learn to swim?’ he asked, and it was as if someone else were doing the asking. He hadn’t meant to. Had he?

‘Would I like…?’

‘I can teach you.’ He smiled. ‘I taught Lissa.’

The name came up naturally, with no strain at all. Lissa… He’d hardly talked about Lissa since her death. He’d tried not to think of her. But now the memories came flooding back, of Alastair as a ten-year-old, holding his six-year-old cousin under the tummy and yelling, ‘Kick, kick…’

And Lissa kicking so hard he’d been bruised for weeks!

He grinned suddenly, and it was as if a weight had been lifted that he hadn’t known was there. The grieving had shifted imperceptibly, and the memories that remained were full of sunlight and laughter and love.

But not passion…

The passion he was learning about hadn’t come into the equation, he thought as Penny-Rose watched his face. He and Lissa had been such good friends that they hadn’t wanted more-or simply hadn’t known that more existed. And she’d been killed before they’d found out.

And now…

Now he knew more existed. Because what he was feeling for the woman by his side was very, very different.

Hell!

But Penny-Rose was lifting her eyes to his, and the expression on her face said she understood.

She couldn’t understand. How could she? It was his imagination.

‘If you could teach Lissa, then you can teach me,’ she said softly. ‘Oh, Alastair, I’d love it.’

Thus began one of the funniest, most precious days of Alastair’s life. All the rest of the morning they worked at it. Her trust was absolute, and her faith paid dividends.

‘You’ll do dead-man’s float first,’ he told her, and made her lie face down in the water. ‘Lie as flat as a board and don’t let yourself put your head up until I touch your shoulders.’

And she didn’t. He put his hand under the flatness of her stomach and held her-supporting her totally-and the feeling it gave him was spine-tingling. She lay still and trusting, until he touched her shoulder. Then she gasped and spluttered and knelt up on the sand to laugh in sheer delight.

They did it again and again, until she was almost floating by herself. ‘It feels wonderful. It feels weird.’

‘It’ll feel weirder. This time I’m going to lower my hand and you’ll feel the water supporting you instead of me. You’ll float.’

And she did! She floated as if she’d done it since childhood, and he gazed down at her beautiful body-and almost forgot to touch her shoulder! When he did, she spluttered a whole lot more as she struggled to her feet. He expected indignation but what he received instead was blazing joy.

‘I floated. I floated! All by myself, I floated!’

‘If I don’t touch your shoulder you can decide to put your head up yourself,’ he managed, laughing with her joy but trying desperately to ignore the strange feelings coursing through his body.

Penny-Rose didn’t understand. ‘Why would I? You’ll touch me when it’s time to surface. I trust you.’

He knew it. The thought was incredible. ‘But…if I’m eaten by a shark…’

She grinned, delirious with sun and surf and happiness. ‘Then I’ll drown of a broken heart, dead-man’s-floating to my doom. What a princess! people would say. Romeo and Juliet would have nothing on a scenario like that.’

He chuckled. ‘Hey, there’s no need to go to extremes. Dying of devotion…’

All of a sudden the lightness faded. They were standing in the shallows, looking at each other, and her words hung between them.

‘I’ll drown of a broken heart…’

And his.

‘Dying of devotion…’

The words had been said in jest, but suddenly things weren’t light at all. Things were moving fast here, changing every minute. The magnetism between them was a tangible power. It was gaining strength every second, and to resist the pull…

How was he to sleep next to her tonight? he asked himself desperately. On the other side of the mound of pillows…

Concentrate on practicalities.

‘Speaking of lunch,’ he said, and her look of uncertainty faded. She was starving, and passion could maybe take a back seat. It was a shame, but where he led, she’d follow. Don’t push the pace…

‘Now you’re talking. I wonder if flake’s on the menu?’

‘You mean we get to eat shark before it eats us? How very wise.’ He managed a grin and glanced at his watch. ‘It’ll be on the table right now. Race you up to the dining room, Rose O’Shea.’

‘It’s Penny-Rose de Castaliae to you, sir,’ she said meekly, and while he took that on board she gained so much of a head start that she beat him to lunch, hands down.

And by nightfall she could swim. Not very far, but she could manage half a dozen strokes before she had to surface, and she was so proud of herself she was threatening to burst.

‘I can swim, I can swim,’ she crowed at dinner, and her sisters and brother looked on with wonder.

‘You sound like a ten-year-old.’

‘I feel like a ten-year-old.’

‘Except,’ Heather said slowly, watching her sister with delight, ‘that when you were ten you sounded thirty.’ She turned to Alastair and her eyes shone with pleasure. ‘We can’t tell you how much it means to us-that our Penny-Rose met you.’

Alastair smiled, but inside he didn’t smile at all. Their pleasure in this marriage made him feel like a traitor. Why? He’d paid for this, he thought grimly. He’d paid money for a bride. So why was he feeling like a rat?

Because they were assuming he was doing this because he loved her, he thought, and he did no such thing. In twelve months he’d walk away.

Back to Belle.

Belle would never come to dinner with sand on her nose, bare toes and a make-up-free face that glowed with happiness, he thought suddenly, watching Rose’s lovely, laughing face.

It was just as well. Belle would be a sensible, practical wife.

‘Have some lobster,’ Penny-Rose said, and handed him a claw. She seemed totally oblivious of his confusion. ‘This guy’s defending his territory even in death. I can’t get the meat out.’

That made him grin. She was in lobster up to her elbows, and her enjoyment was obvious to all. He thought back to the night she’d eaten her first snail, and he knew without asking that this was her first lobster.

‘Allow me.’ He cracked the shell with practised ease. The long, smooth sliver of meat slid free, and then, because he couldn’t resist it, he leaned forward and popped it between her lips. She gazed up at him as the meat disappeared and…

And it was suddenly an incredibly sexy moment, and behind them he heard Heather snigger.

‘Um…excuse me, are we in the way?’

‘No,’ said Penny-Rose, and blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘I… Thank you.’

‘That’s quite all right.’ Alastair tried for an unflustered voice but it didn’t quite come off. ‘Cracking lobsters is one of my splinter skills. Along with swimming lessons.’

And he badly wanted to do it again. Pop a little more lobster between those lips… In fact, he wanted to desperately. But Rose was pushing her plate away decisively.

‘Swimming’s worse than stone-walling,’ she said, and her voice sounded even more flustered than he was feeling. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘But there’s meringue for dessert.’ Mike couldn’t believe that she could leave, and Penny-Rose turned her attention gratefully to her younger brother.

‘I’m sure you won’t have any trouble eating my share. Or Alastair will help.’ And then she caught the way Alastair was looking at her. ‘G-goodnight.’

And she fled.

Which left Alastair sitting with her sisters and brother. Who were all looking at him with an air of bright expectancy.

And he couldn’t disappoint them. Could he?

‘I guess I’ll turn in, too,’ he said, and they beamed their approval. After all, this was how honeymoons were supposed to proceed.

Help!

But he left anyway. How could he not?

Because Rose was waiting.

This bedroom arrangement was impossible.

When he got back to their cottage, Rose was already in the bathroom. She was running a bath, so there was nothing for Alastair to do but to lie on the bed and listen to her wallowing in the vast white tub.

He could imagine her so vividly she might as well have left the door open. He knew how it would be…

The bathroom was a tiny walled patio with three sheltered walls and the fourth side open to the sea. The bathtub was sunk into the decking. It had two soft headrests, and it was designed so lovers could lie side by side. They could soak in the warm water and watch the moon over the sea.

Only…one side would be empty, Alastair thought. His side. The other side would have Rose.

Rose…

He let his imagination wander. Lovely, naked Rose, slippery with soap suds, lying back, letting the salt and sand wash away from her gorgeous body. Penny-Rose lying alone in a bath built for two…

Rose! Not Penny-Rose.

Stop thinking like this! You’ll go stark, staring crazy-if you’re not already, he said desperately to himself, and took himself out for a walk.

Where could he go? If he walked around the cottage and down to their secluded cove, he’d be able to look up and see…

No. Damn, he was turning into a peeping Tom!

He strode deliberately back up to the management lodge where the kids were setting up a game of cards. From the darkness he could see them out on the verandah, laughing as they played some silly game of snap.

He couldn’t go there. What would he say?

‘Can I play, too? Your sister’s taking a bath and it’s driving me nuts!’

They’d think he was nuts. They were such nice kids. And they thought he was in love with their sister.

Which was nonsense. He wasn’t in love with anyone.

But he was definitely in lust with her.

That was it. He’d found the answer. Only lust. He just wanted her body. He was as aroused as he’d ever been in his life, and the fact that she was a virgin bride…

She was his virgin bride.

She wasn’t his anything. And she had to stay a virgin, he told himself desperately. Hell, wasn’t that why he’d married her? Because he didn’t want commitment? So it had to stay that way. The last thing he wanted was to make it hard for her to walk away.

But was he sure about what he wanted?

He knew what he didn’t want. He didn’t want commitment.

In fact, he didn’t want marriage. He’d agreed to marry Belle because his mother had wanted grandchildren, he’d quite liked the idea of kids, he’d needed a hostess and the whole thing had been sensible. That was a decent basis for a marriage. Sense.

Not lust.

So he should walk right back to his cottage, settle down on the far side of the pile of cushions and go straight to sleep.

But…he just might take a cold shower first.

A cold shower didn’t help.

Alastair returned to the cottage to find Rose glowing from the warmth of the bath. She was wearing one of those damned lingerie-type nightdresses she’d bought in Paris and she was curled into her half of the bed with the sheet drawn up to her waist.

The sheet wasn’t drawn up far enough. The nightgown was cut low over her lovely curving breasts, her curls were sprayed out over the pillow-and it was as much as he could do not to groan.

So he stood under the cold shower for a very long time. When he emerged she was lying in the half-dark. Only his bedside light was on. She was still awake, smiling up at him in the dim light as he walked around to his side of the bed.

And heaven only knew how heavy his feet felt. It was so darned hard to make himself walk around her.

This was crazy!

‘Feeling better?’ she whispered, and he managed a nod.

‘Yes. Thanks.’ But he’d lied.

‘It’s been the most gorgeous day,’ she said sleepily as he slid down under the sheet-still on his side. ‘Thank you, Alastair.’

‘Think nothing of it.’ That sounded curt. He forced himself to smile, and then flicked off the light so he wouldn’t need to hide his expression. But he could still see the curves of her in the moonlight. She was too damned close! ‘I enjoyed myself, too.’

‘You’d never seen yourself as a swimming master extraordinaire?’

‘There’s a whole lot of things I’d never seen myself as,’ he said bitterly. ‘A prince. A swimming master-’

‘A husband?’

‘The kids think it’s real,’ he burst out, and there was surely the nub of the matter. If no one thought it was real, he wouldn’t have to pretend. It was the pretence that was driving him crazy-wasn’t it?

‘They do,’ she said softly. ‘Do you mind?’

‘I… No. Only if you do,’ he managed. ‘It’ll make it harder at the end of the year.’

‘Alastair, let’s worry about the end of the year at the end of the year. For now…this is the honeymoon of my dreams. The holiday of my dreams. I’ve learned to swim five strokes. I’m here with my sisters and brother-and with you. I couldn’t be any happier if I tried.’

He could be. He could be a whole lot happier. All he had to do was shift these damned cushions!

He had to stay formal. Somehow. ‘I’m glad you’re having a good time.’

‘I’m having a wonderful time.’ And then, before he knew what she was about, she slipped her hand under the pillows and found his hand. Her fingers were warm and sure as she pulled his hand toward her, and then she raised his hand to her lips and gently kissed his fingertips.

It was a gesture of thanks. Nothing more. Wasn’t it?

‘This is magic,’ she said softly. ‘A magic day. A magic prince.’

‘It’ll end.’ He somehow managed to haul his hand away, and it nearly tore him apart to do it. His voice came out as a sort of strangled croak. ‘After all, Cinderella had her midnight to contend with. Your midnight is just taking a while longer to come.’

‘I won’t forget.’ Her voice was suddenly serious, but she was still whispering into the dark. The sensation was unutterably intimate. ‘Alastair, why are you so afraid of commitment?’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are.’ He heard her smile in her voice. ‘You’re just a great big chicken.’

He drew in his breath. How to answer that one?

With the truth. ‘I’d rather be a chicken than a squashed hen.’

‘There’s a brave prince.’ She chuckled. ‘Is that your royal creed? “He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day.’”

‘It has a whole lot going for it.’ It was surreal. Lying in the dark, talking to her as if nothing was between them.

Only these damned cushions!

‘Seriously, though…’

‘Seriously what?’

‘Why don’t you let yourself love…Belle?’

Because I’ve never been the least bit tempted to love Belle, he thought, but he didn’t say it. Whereas you…

But he had to give her a reasonable answer. An answer he thought was the truth. ‘I’ve told you before. I don’t do love.’

‘Because you might get hurt?’ Her voice was carefully neutral.

‘Because I will get hurt. Eventually. Or you…or Belle would. Nothing lasts for ever.’

‘So…’ She’d forgotten to whisper. Her voice was curious now. Nothing more. ‘So when you’re designing buildings, you’re planning on them lasting a thousand years?’ she asked.

‘Like your fences?’ He smiled into the dark. ‘Nope. You’re the master builder in that direction.’

‘So how long would a building of yours last-on average, say?’

He didn’t understand what she was getting at. ‘I’d like to think a hundred years.’ He shrugged. ‘But probably only forty. Maybe less.’

‘But you still think it’s worthwhile building them.’

Damn. He’d walked straight into her trap. And the cushions weren’t high enough!

‘Buildings are different,’ he managed.

‘I imagine they are,’ she said softly. ‘Different to relationships. But in some ways they’re the same. If they only last for forty years they can still be incredibly wonderful while they last.’ She frowned then, and he heard the frown in the dark. He was starting to know her so well…

‘You lost Lissa,’ she said gently. ‘You said she was your best friend. Today you told me about teaching her to swim when you were kids. If you had your time again, would you choose not to have that time with her? Because she might die?’

‘That’s none of your business.’ She was cutting too close to the bone here.

‘I’m just interested.’

‘Well, stop being interested. Go to sleep.’

Ha! That was a good one. How could they possibly sleep?

‘I don’t think you’re being fair on Belle-that’s all.’ She was still probing, right where it hurt most. ‘I think marriage is all about loving someone to bits.’

‘Like your father’s and mother’s marriage?’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘At least they took a chance,’ she said, and now she sounded angry. ‘At least they tried. They didn’t lock themselves up in some antiseptic world in case the big bad love-bug bit them so hard it hurt. So, yes, they loved and, yes, it did hurt. My mother made a bad marriage but she had four kids and she had a life. And she loved my dad to bits, even if he was a loser. She loved him and even when she knew she was dying, I suspect she never regretted a thing.’

‘Apart from leaving you all.’

‘We had her,’ Penny-Rose said strongly. ‘We had her for enough time to love her and be proud to be her kids. Even Michael has the stories we tell about her, and the knowledge that he was loved. You think we’d abandon that love or not embrace it in the first place because we knew she’d die? If you do, then you don’t know what way your head is screwed on, Alastair de Castaliae.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake…’

‘There’s no “for heaven’s sake” about it. You loved Lissa. You should try loving Belle.’

‘I can’t love Belle.’

There. He’d said it. It hung between them, almost as big a barrier as the cushions.

‘Then don’t marry her.’

‘I’m married to you.’

‘No, you’re not,’ she said reasonably. ‘You can’t be married to someone when there’s two feet of cushions between them. That someone refuses to be married on that basis. This is pretend, Alastair.’

‘I… Yes.’

‘But you and Belle aren’t pretending.’

‘We don’t need to,’ he said, exasperated. ‘It’s a business arrangement.’

‘But…’ She reflected on this for a moment. ‘You’re not paying her.’

‘No.’

‘And you’re intending to have kids?’

‘Maybe. Yes! I’ll need an heir.’

‘Poor little heir,’ she said softly. ‘I hope Marguerite loves it enough for all of you.’

‘I’ll love it.’

‘No.’ Penny-Rose shook her head, and anger vibrated harshly in her voice. ‘How can you? Because that’s commitment, too. That’s risking your precious independence, and you don’t want that.’

‘Rose…’

‘It’s Penny-Rose. And what?’ she said crossly.

‘Can we go to sleep?’

‘How can I go to sleep?’ she demanded. ‘How can I sleep when I’ve had such a wonderful, wonderful day, and I’ve learned to swim and I’ve seen dolphins and I’m now lying in bed wide awake beside the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met and…and you expect me to sleep?’

Silence.

Hell, she was feeling the same as he was!

‘I…’

‘You took a cold shower,’ she said carefully. ‘I know. The bathroom didn’t steam. You think my bath was hot?’

‘Rose-’

‘This is impossible,’ she snapped. ‘Cold showers aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. I’m going nuts, and there’s twelve months to go. You’d better take me home to your castle and dig a few moats. Right through the middle of the castle. And fill the moats with alligators-with you on one side and me on the other. Because this year’s getting out of hand already.’

Alastair tried reason. ‘Rose, if we’re sensible-’

And that was enough for her. She sat up, and in the dim light he could see her eyes flashing with temper. ‘Why the hell do we need to be sensible?’

‘Because…’

‘Because why?’ A cushion tumbled toward her and she lifted it and hurled it to the other side of the room. ‘Stupid cushion.’

‘Rose-’

‘Don’t “Rose” me.’ She was so angry she was almost spitting. ‘OK. Here’s the truth. I didn’t want to do this-I didn’t want to tell you-but it’s too much for me to hide and I can’t go around like you-an ostrich with my head in the sand-for twelve months.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

But he did.

‘You can’t feel this thing between us?’

‘No!’

‘Liar.’

The word hung in the air between them. A threat…

The truth.

And then she’d had enough. She took a deep breath and she said what she’d promised not to say. Whatever the outcome, it had to be said.

‘I love you, Alastair de Castaliae,’ she said, and her anger was all around them. She was furious with him. She was also furious with herself for betraying what she hadn’t wanted to reveal. But there was suddenly no choice.

He was so close.

And there were these stupid cushions!

Another cushion went flying.

‘I love you,’ she repeated. ‘I know. It’s stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But you picked me up and rescued me from a life of poverty, you took me to Paris and fed me snails and cheeses and strawberries, you bought me the sexiest knickers a girl could ever have-and then refused to look at them. And you rescued me from traffic and you gave me the most gorgeous dog…’

That was a good one. The most gorgeous dog…

‘Are we talking about Leo here?’ he asked cautiously, and she glared and threw away another cushion. She was tempted to whop him with it.

‘Shut up.’ She glowered. ‘Just listen. And then you take my little brother as your best man and you stand there in your gorgeous suit and you smile at me, and you make those vows! And you give me copestones for a wedding present. Damn, a girl would have to be abnormal to ignore that, and I’m not abnormal. I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with you. So there. I’ve said it. You can do with it what you like, Your Serene Stupid Highness. Like it or lump it.’

Her breath caught on a sob. ‘And you needn’t worry that it changes anything. At the end of the year I’ll still walk away as I promised. But for what it’s worth, you should know what you’re letting go. You have a wife. I might not be the wife you planned, but I’m a wife all the same. Not a pretend wife, Alastair. I’m a wife who loves you so much it hurts, and who’s given you her heart and who doesn’t expect a single thing in return.’

And she flung herself over onto her breast and buried her face in her remaining pillows.

And then she sat up again and swallowed. The situation was impossible and somehow she had to strive for lightness.

‘Except another swimming lesson tomorrow,’ she managed, while Alastair stared at her in open-mouthed amazement. ‘I do expect that. You know, this doesn’t mean anything has to change, but I thought you ought to know the facts-and the facts are that I’m yours. If you want me. But if you don’t want me then that’s OK, too. As long as I get to swim tomorrow.’

And that was the end of that.

She buried her head again, and Alastair sat staring down at her, trying to figure out what the hell to say.

What was there to say?

He could think of exactly nothing.