own people. The hard reality was that she was going to have to work hard to prove that she was up to the job of being his queen.
She had always thought of herself as Cinderella, making the fire for her stepsisters—or in her case her sister and step-dad. That was where she belonged, wasn’t it? Not upstairs, sharing her life with a king.
Kate closed her eyes and tried to block out the noise. Perhaps she should risk the heat and head outside for an hour, to help relieve her headache? The check-in desk might be open by then. At least she would escape that strange drumming that was going on inside her head. Drumming and chanting and. Drumming?
Kate’s eyes flew open just as the crowds of passengers seemed to part like the Red Sea before Moses, leaving a wide channel for a very strange procession which seemed to be focused on … her. Two drummers in bright striped skirts and bandanas jigged and jogged their way through the airport lounge towards her lowly metal bench, followed by a line of men and women in stunning togas, headdresses, and heavy golden necklaces and royal regalia.
Then she felt her eyes widen as two men in full ceremonial Ghanaian dress walked in a stately fashion towards her. One of them even dared to give her a wink, and gestured with his head over his shoulder as they got closer.
Startled, Kate blinked several times before she recognised that the handsome young Ghanaian was Paul, looking every inch the Prince in his splendid costume.
Hardly daring to breathe, Kate lifted her head and looked over Paul’s shoulder—into the pale grey eyes of Simon Reynolds.
And her heart sang.
He was wearing his tribal toga—a brightly coloured strip of woven cloth wrapped around his tall, athletic body, with the end thrown over one shoulder. A golden sash crossed his bare bronzed shoulder, and his lower arm was wrapped in a stunning amulet. To complete the picture, one of the boys she had seen on the photo of the village school was struggling to control the weight of a great fabric parasol and hold it over Simon’s head.
On either side of Simon were royal attendants. The tall proud men each carried a golden ceremonial staff, topped with a large carved golden standard, and as she watched in stunned silence Simon turned slightly and whispered to one, then the other, before stepping forward so that he was right in front of her.
Kate looked into his smiling eyes and tried to express how totally confused and elated and stunned she was, but failed. It was all too much. He came to her rescue.
‘I might be only a prince, not yet a king, but I come from a long line of proud people,’ he said, his voice resonating around the airport, which seemed to have come to a universal halt while everyone found out what was going on and why there was a royal procession there.
He glanced to one side, and out of the corner of her eye Kate saw Molly giving him a supportive thumbs-up. ‘A wise woman once said that every King needs his Queen. So I come to you today, Miss Kate O’Neill, and offer you my hand.’ His eyes smiled, and she could see the edges of his mouth quiver with emotion. ‘Will you do me the honour of being my future Queen? My partner? My wife? Will you share my life with me, Kate? Say yes. You have always been a princess in my eyes. Let me make you a queen I can share with the world.’
Somewhere in the airport an announcement was going out about the check-in desk for a flight to London, but Kate wasn’t interested in that any longer.
All she could think about was this man in a toga, who was asking her to marry him before a crowd of strangers. All that mattered was Simon, his grey eyes fixed on her with such pleading and such love that the only thing she could do was smile and nod in reply, and keep on nodding until the doubt on his face was transformed into startling happiness and joy.
Then the drummers started banging away for all they were worth. Simon’s friends from the village began dancing from side to side, their ceremonial staffs transformed into marching band batons, and the great parasol slid slowly to one side as its holder joined in the jig.
‘You have always been my Prince, Simon Reynolds. I never thought you could