A Royal Wedding - By Trish Morey Page 0,35

with relief, as if there had ever been any doubt, and drew her closer into his embrace. ‘You do not know how I have longed to hear those words again— if only for the opportunity to tell you that I love you with everything this scarred heart can offer. You have it all. But I know you have your career, and that must come first—’

Alarm bells sounded. ‘What do you mean that must come first? Before what?’

‘We can work it out. You will prefer to continue working, of course. You will not want to be tied down …’

‘Alessandro, what are you saying? Maybe you should spell it out first.’

His dark eyes were troubled and uncertain, and she had never seen him so vulnerable. He had risked everything for her today, she realised. Everything. And she would love him for what that had cost him for ever.

‘You have your work.’

‘Tell me!’

‘I hoped—I wondered—so long as it doesn’t interfere with your work—’ she glared at him ‘—I wondered if you might agree to become my wife?’

‘Yes!’ she cried, tears of joy springing to her eyes. ‘Yes, I will marry you, Alessandro. Yes, I will become your wife.’

And his face lit up brighter than she had ever seen it, until both sides of his face were beautiful, both sides of him magically, wonderfully hers.

EPILOGUE

THE dock had been sanded and oiled till it gleamed in the sun, the rocks bordering the track freshly painted white. Flags fluttered gaily along the route, and the small harbour was filled with dozens of bobbing white pleasure craft.

It was to be a small affair, he’d promised her. No more than two or three hundred guests. And under the lure of a perfect summer’s day they spilled out of the massive ballroom and filled the grounds around the castle, admiring the view across the sea to the Italian coast or having their pictures taken in front of the dolphin fountain, where the water played and splashed like jewels in the bright sunshine.

He looked magnificent, she thought as she caught a glimpse of him through the crowd, in one of his beautifully tailored suits that showed the long, lean line of his body to perfection. He looked magnificent and at ease with himself at last—as if he’d cast his demons from his shoulders, as if he’d come to terms with his past. He’d even wooed the inevitable media, so it was now fully behind him, and covering his wedding as if it was some kind of fairytale. And it was a fairytale, she knew.

But it was much more than that. He was much more than that. Right now he was talking to someone hidden by the crowd, his beautiful scarred face animated and alive.

He caught her eye across the space and held it, and she felt that now familiar slow burn of heat flare up inside her as he excused himself and headed her way, looking neither left nor right as he cut a swathe towards her. He was at her side a heartbeat later, sweeping her up in one arm and swinging her around.

‘Have I told you how beautiful you look today, Countess Volta?’

She smiled. ‘Maybe once or twice,’ she said, though they both knew it was many, many more times than that. ‘And have I told you how magnificent you look, my husband?’

‘So many times,’ he growled, nuzzling her ear, ‘that I fear I may just start to believe it.’

‘Believe it,’ she said. ‘You are the most handsome man here.’

‘Grace—’

‘No, it is true. You are smiling so much you are like a beacon. Everyone wants to talk to you. Why else has it taken this long to have a moment with you alone?’

‘I was just talking to Professor Rousseau.’

Grace looked around, trying to find her through the crowd. ‘Oh, I should have come over to you. She doesn’t know many people here, Alessandro.’

‘She’s fine. I left her talking to my best man.’

‘To Bruno? I wouldn’t have thought they would have much in common.’

‘On the contrary. It turns out they both have pirate ancestors.

Bruno has offered to show the Professor through the caves below the castle.’

‘He has?’ She scanned the crowd, which finally parted enough that she could see them both in deep conversation. As if aware he was being discussed, Bruno suddenly looked up and gave a bashful smile. ‘He smiled at me,’ she said. ‘Bruno actually smiled.’

The man beside her laughed, and she found so much joy in the sound that she wondered … ‘Do you think

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