Lucy Gordon - The King’s Bride

‘You weren’t ready. Not like now.’

‘I really hope Liz is your great-aunt. Not that there’s any real doubt of it, but I’m beginning to understand so much-how he depended on her. She must have been the most important person in his life, just as you-’ He stopped and looked at her. ‘Lizzie, darling, I’m not imagining this, am I?’

‘Imagination?’ she teased. ‘You?’

‘No, I haven’t much. So I couldn’t have imagined that you feel for me as I feel for you. Could I?’ He was pleading.

‘No,’ she said seriously, ‘you didn’t imagine that.’

He dropped the letter so that it fell, unheeded, to the floor. He seized her against him like a man just released from prison. His kisses too had the desperation of sudden freedom,

shot through with dread lest the precious gift be snatched away. And behind that lay the eagerness of a boy exploring love, almost as a new adventure. She kissed him back in reassurance, but gradually that gave way to the thrills that were coursing through her. He was the man she loved, but he was also the most sexually attractive male animal that it had ever been her privilege to encounter. She’d sensed that at the ball, when she’d first felt his arms about her, and everything since then had been a matter of waiting to tie up the loose ends.

Suddenly he stopped, holding her face between his two hands, whispering, ‘Are you sure? Are you quite sure, Lizzie? Don’t feel you have to just because I-because of this place and all the trappings.’

She loved him for his doubts. In the past he’d shown her the arrogance of power. Now he trusted her with the humility deep inside him.

‘Are you sure?’ he repeated again. ‘It has to be me, for myself alone. I don’t want it any other way.’

‘Just you,’ she promised. ‘There’s nobody else in my heart, and there never will be again.’

She slipped out of her robe and nightdress so that he could see all the beauty she brought him. She knew her nakedness was magnificent, but at this moment she only cared for it as a gift for the lonely, doubt-ridden man who’d taken refuge in her heart.

And it would be a true refuge for him, she vowed as he lay down beside her on the bed. Whatever the future held, whatever price she had to pay for loving him-and it might be a great one-she would say it was all worth it if she could give him any happiness.

From the way he made love she could tell that the last of

his doubts still lingered. There was about him a serious intentness that was beautiful here and now. But far back in her mind she made a note that in future she must teach him how to be a little light-hearted.

No woman could have asked for a more tender or considerate loving, but beneath it she could sense the vigour, sternly leashed back for her sake. The knowledge was a new excitement, a promise for the future. Next time they made love he wouldn’t hold it back; she would see to that. But for now they were getting introduced, delighting in what they found, joyful in each other. Only at the last moment did his passion slip beyond his control, and he claimed her with a fierceness that she willingly matched.

There was a long silence then, broken only by breathing and the soft sound of their heartbeats fading. Daniel kissed her and drew her close.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured.

She gave a chuckle, full of pleasure and satisfaction. ‘I think I should be thanking you. That was the nicest thing that’s ever happened to me.’

‘I want to toast you in champagne.’

‘So let’s send for some.’

‘You mean I should make the call from your room? That would really give them something to talk about.’

‘No, I will.’ She lifted the house phone and made the order. ‘You stay here while I wait for it in the sitting room.’

The champagne arrived five minutes later. Lizzie dressed soberly and closed the door into her bedroom.

‘There’s only one glass,’ she said, bringing everything in a moment later. ‘I could hardly ask for two, but I think there are some in that cupboard.’ She eyed him, lying naked on

the tumbled bed. ‘If you lie like that I shall forget all about champagne.’

‘Good,’ he said, grinning. ‘Why are you wearing so much?’

She laughed and tossed her clothes aside while he poured two glasses.

They toasted each other, then Daniel said, ‘There must be something else. Let’s drink to a bargain well sealed. Except that you haven’t kept your side yet.’

‘How do you mean?’ she asked, trying to sound casual, although she sensed doom creeping up on her. However she’d pictured the moment of truth, it hadn’t been like this.

‘“I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours,”’ he quoted. ‘That was the deal. What have you done with Alphonse’s letters? Oh, never mind; I’m feeling too happy to worry about that. I just want to think about you. Tomorrow will do for the letters.’

‘Yes,’ she said, relieved. ‘Tomorrow.’

But something in her voice struck his ears strangely. He frowned and looked curiously at her face.

‘You have got them safe, haven’t you, darling?’

Oh, heck! she thought. Why now?

‘You have, haven’t you, Lizzie?’

‘I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about this now?’

‘Yes, but you’ve got me worried. Lizzie-’

‘Daniel, I told you right from the start that I don’t have those letters.’

He looked at her quizzically. ‘But of course you have them. You as good as told me-’ He caught her eye and said slowly, ‘What have we been talking about all this time?’

She took the precaution of rising and moving away, unaware that her shape was distracting Daniel from what he was pursuing. Almost, but not quite.

‘Evidently we haven’t been talking about the same thing,’ she observed.

‘You knew I was offering a bargain.’

‘And you knew I didn’t have them. I told you that in this very room.’

‘Yes, but then you-’ He rose from the bed and began to follow her. ‘Then you-’

‘Eased up on the denials a little,’ she told him, bland-faced.

He advanced purposefully on her. ‘You scheming, two-faced little-’

She backed away. ‘Now Daniel-’

‘Your Majesty!’

‘Rats! If you want to be called Your Majesty, put something on first.’

‘Don’t change the subject.’

She chuckled. ‘There’s only one subject that interests me at the moment. You too, from the look of it.’

One glance down at himself was enough to make him accept the inevitable.

‘We’ll talk later,’ he muttered, lifting her right off her feet and tossing her so that she landed sprawling on the bed.

‘All right, my love,’ she gasped as he dived and landed on top of her. ‘Anything that you-mmm!’

SHE began a double life. By day she was the historian working seriously on the Voltavian archives. If she met Daniel in the presence of anyone else she would address him as ‘Your Majesty’ the first time, and ‘sir’ after that, as did his courtiers.

But at night she called him Daniel, and laughed as she melted in his arms. Their loving was passionate, and full of joy, and afterwards, as he lay sleeping in her arms-for he always slept first-she would hold him protectively and wonder if this was how Liz had felt with Alphonse. And then she knew that was impossible, because no woman in the world had felt the special joy that was hers.

After the first explosion he’d accepted the fact that she couldn’t produce Alphonse’s letters with wry humour. It delighted her that he had managed to laugh about it.

‘You got the better of me,’ he said without rancour. ‘But you wait and see. I’ll get even.’

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ she teased.

When she was there he could enjoy a family evening, and even displayed a talent for playing the piano that none of his children had known about before.

They confided this to her when Daniel was out of earshot. They revealed also, without exactly knowing they were doing so, that their mother had drummed into their head that he was their king first and their father second. With herself, she had stressed, it was the other way around.

Daniel might regard his late wife generously but Lizzie’s thoughts were less charitable. Serena had been so possessive about her children that she’d bolstered her own position at her husband’s expense, and everyone was suffering for it now.

Once, when the palace was quiet, he showed her where he lived, and she was struck by the contrast between the magnificent bedroom where the king officially slept and the little monastic cell where he actually passed his nights-those that he didn’t spend with her.

‘Who’s this?’ she asked, looking at a small painting on the wall. It showed a man in Voltavian military uniform, but with a gentle, unmilitary face, on the verge of a smile.

‘That’s my great-uncle, Carl. Alphonse’s younger brother. He was a dear fellow, everybody loved him. There’s a story that the only reason Alphonse married Princess Irma was to clear the way for Carl to marry the woman he loved. She was the daughter of a lawyer, respectable and a lady, but this was seventy years ago, when it was unthinkable for a prince to make such a marriage. And Carl was next in line to the throne, after Alphonse.

‘So Alphonse married and had a son, and then the way was clear for Carl. He renounced his rights of succession, married his lady, and they lived very happily for fifty years.’

‘What a charming story. And Alphonse really made a dutiful marriage just to help Carl?’

‘So they say. My grandfather would never confirm or deny

it. But Carl was very dear to him, and his happiest times were spent visiting the family. Mine too. They always seemed so happy. Carl was a wise man to marry where his heart led him.’

‘But he did it at someone else’s expense,’ Lizzie pointed out. ‘Your grandfather couldn’t have done the same. Nor could you.’