There was a murmur from those around them. His captive bride, being led to the slaughter.
‘Stop,’ he said and the congregation gasped as one.
Was he mad? Doing this at such a time?
But he wasn’t mad. He knew exactly what had to be done, regardless of who was watching. Before he could let any more doubt creep in he left the waiting priest and strode swiftly down the long aisle to meet his bride.
She looked up at him, dazed. Seemingly numb.
‘Leave her, Sebastian,’ he said, and when Sebastian opened his mouth to argue he fixed him with a look that might, in a bygone age, have seen his head on a block. To give such a look to his future king…But Sebastian was his brother and was, this day, of little import compared to the girl on his arm.
And Sebastian had the sense to see it. He gave his brother a quizzical smile and stepped back. The trumpeter’s notes faded into an uncertain murmur and then ceased altogether.
‘You look frightened,’ Andreas said and he took her hands in his and waited until she found the courage to look up at him.
‘N…no.’
‘Liar.’
‘Just overwhelmed,’ she managed.
‘Then don’t be,’ he said, speaking to her and only to her. ‘This is between you and me. A marriage between us. And I’m only Andreas, the boy you once loved.’
Who knew what those around were thinking? He couldn’t care. All he knew was that these few minutes were all he had to convince her to go through with this; not to bolt and run, but neither to submit in fear.
‘With a bold heart or not at all,’ he whispered, and she looked up at him as if he were a stranger.
‘A bold heart…’
‘You were never a coward, Holly,’ he said. ‘You can ride a half-broken horse bareback. You can take down a steer. You can ride muster at dawn with any man. Surely you can find it in your heart to take me on as well.’
There was a ripple of laughter through the chapel. This might be unconventional but it was romantic and even the politicians were smiling.
‘I’m not afraid of you,’ she whispered.
‘Then what, my heart?’
‘I…’
‘You want more time?’
That shocked her. Her eyes widened. She gazed at him, and then she looked around the chapel where the who’s who of Aristo were assembled waiting to see her marry.
And suddenly her smile was back, a glimmer at first, and then a full-on grin. ‘What, you’re offering me five minutes?’
‘Take six if you want.’
‘You’re all heart.’
‘You want to get married?’ he said. ‘We’re ready and waiting.’
‘You make it sound ordinary.’ The whole congregation could hear but neither of them were aware of it.
‘People do it every day. Just because you’re wearing a tiara…Take it off if it bothers you.’
‘You’d marry me without the tiara?’
‘I’d marry you with nothing on at all,’ he said and the uncertain smiles around the chapel became chuckles. This wasn’t what anyone had expected-in this atmosphere redolent of royal history and pageantry it was almost as if a breath of fresh air had blown through the chapel.
‘I reckon you wouldn’t,’ she said, and grinned and he could see the girl she’d once been; the girl she still was under the pain and loneliness the past had thrown at her.
‘I reckon I would.’ His eyes were daring her, laughing with her. ‘You want to try me?’
‘I reckon not,’ she whispered, but the tension was gone. He’d won, he thought. She was looking at him the way she’d looked at him all those years ago. As if he was just Andreas. Just a boy.
A boy to his girl. A man to his woman.
A bride to his groom.
‘With this ring I thee wed…’
He slipped the band of gold on her finger and she looked down at it and then looked at the man facing her. Andreas.
She’d dreamed of this moment. It had always been a girl’s romantic longing. Her Cinderella moment. Marrying her prince. And here she was, doing it for real.
Yet it was all fake. She was doing it for the sake of his country. The marriage would end and she’d go on as before.
Not as before. She stared at the wedding band, at Andreas’s strong fingers as he settled it in place, and then she looked up into his face.
Her husband.
She meant these vows.
Okay, this marriage might only last a few weeks but it was all she had. She’d waited for ten long years and here she was, hesitating, acting like a wilting violet. Making him talk her down the aisle. Responding to his vows with whispers.
She was no timid virgin and this was her husband. If she only had weeks…she’d go back to Munwannay and these memories would have to last for the rest of her life.
This had all been one-sided. She’d submitted to everything.
On the middle finger of her right hand she wore her father’s ring. It was a rough-cast band of gold that had been wrought from gold found on Munwannay. The seam had never amounted to anything but she could still remember the excitement when it had been found.
‘We’ll be rich,’ her father had exulted, swinging her round and round the kitchen in dizzy excitement. ‘I’ll be able to give you and your mother everything you want.’
He’d had two rings cast-wedding rings to cement the future. Heaven knew what her mother had done with hers-probably cast it away with the marriage-but her father had worn his until he died.
And now…
The priest was about to go on, assuming there was one ring only. But before he could do so, she’d tugged it off and handed it over.
‘Bless this,’ she whispered. ‘And then wear it, Andreas.’
She’d caught him by surprise. He’d never worn a wedding ring-there was no indent around his ring finger to say he’d worn a ring during his marriage to Christina.
For a moment she thought he’d refuse. She met his gaze, steadily, her look a challenge. Come on, this is under my terms as well.
His lips quirked into a glimmer of a smile.
‘Well, then,’ the priest said and there was a faint trace of relief in his voice. He took Holly’s ring and blessed it.
‘With this ring I thee wed.’
And then there was the party.
At what point had she stopped being the wilting bride? Andreas moved among the wedding guests and his gaze kept turning to his bride, over and over again.