were in love; that was the secret.’
It didn’t take a genius to know that was what Luisa had wanted for herself. Till he’d come along.
Never before had Raul’s duty seemed so onerous. He was doomed to disappoint her. He didn’t even believe in love. He’d never experienced it.
‘But she loved it here.’ Luisa turned to him, her smile a shade too bright. ‘Mum wanted to bring us one day to see it.’
‘I’m glad.’ He paused, clasping her hand more firmly. ‘In time I hope you come to love it too. It’s a special place. There are no people like Maritzians.’
‘You’re not biased, are you?’
‘Surely that’s my prerogative.’ He led her towards the rest of the exhibition, regaling her with a traditional local story. It surprised him how much he wanted to hear her laugh again.
Raul strode swiftly to his study. There was a crushing amount of work to do and, though the unrest in the provinces had abated a little, he couldn’t afford to be complacent.
Yet the wedding tomorrow, a small affair since the nation was in mourning for his father, would pave the way for his coronation and go a long way to solving his problems.
Taking his bride to bed would go a long way towards easing the permanent ache in his groin.
Anticipation pulsed in his blood at the thought of his wedding night to come. His desire for Luisa grew daily.
The more time he spent with his bride-to-be the more she fascinated him. She was vibrant, engaging, determinedly independent and down-to-earth. Different from every other woman he knew.
Even now he never knew what to expect from her.
Lukas approached as he reached the study.
‘Your Highness.’ He fell into step beside Raul.
‘Yes? Am I late for my meeting?’
‘No, not that.’ His secretary hesitated, his mouth turning down. ‘You have a visitor. I wanted to warn—’
‘Raul. Darling!’ The husky female voice came from the door ahead. For one shattered instant Raul felt his feet rivet to the floor as shock vibrated through him. His hands clenched into fists. Then, bracing himself, he slowly approached the blonde draped in the doorway.
‘This is unexpected, Ana. What are you doing here?’
‘Surely you didn’t expect me to miss your wedding, darling?’ She straightened and lifted her head, her lips a crimson pout. ‘Your invitation didn’t reach me. Luckily I heard about it on the grapevine.’
He stopped a metre away, distaste prickling his skin. Foolishly, he’d thought he’d seen the last of her, for the time being at least.
They weren’t in public so there was no need for a courteous bow. And she could wait till hell froze over before he took up the invitation implicit in that pout.
Not when she was the woman who eight years ago had dragged him to hell.
‘LUISA, you look so lovely!’ Tamsin said. ‘This pearly cream is wonderful with the golden tone of your skin.’
‘You think so?’ Luisa stood stiffly, uncomfortable in the full length gown of silk. The fitted bodice covered with cobweb-fine hand-made lace. The diadem of finely wrought gold and pearls.
The bridal dress showcased the finest traditional Maritzian products. Lace from one province. Hand woven silk from another. The exquisite filigree gold choker necklace that made her throat seem elegant and impossibly fragile was by craftsmen in yet another province. Beaded slippers from still another.
Only the bride hadn’t been involved in the design of her wedding clothes.
Gingerly Luisa turned to the mirror, feeling a fraud under the weight of this charade.
Yet the image awaiting her took her breath away. Could that really be her? A woman who till recently had spent her days in jeans and gumboots?
‘You look like a fairy princess.’ Tamsin shook a fold of embossed silk so the flaring skirt draped perfectly.
‘I don’t feel like it.’ Nausea churned in Luisa’s stomach. It was only through sheer willpower that she’d nibbled at a fruit platter for lunch. She whose appetite was always healthy!
‘Believe me.’ Tamsin clasped her hand briefly and smiled. ‘You’ll take everyone’s breath away. Especially Raul. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.’
Luisa saw the other woman’s secret smile and wondered if she was thinking of her recent marriage to Prince Alaric, Raul’s distant cousin. It was clear that the big man with the steely jaw and face almost as handsome as Raul’s was deeply in love with his new English wife.
For a moment Luisa let herself imagine what it would be like to marry for love. Burnt so badly years ago, she’d buried herself on the farm, shunning any hint of male interest. She’d longed to experience true love but had she been too craven to open herself to the possibility?
The day Raul had saved her from falling and kissed her so tenderly she’d allowed herself to be swept along by his deep voice, his gentle hands and the unstoppable cravings that welled at his touch.
For one fragile interlude she’d longed to believe something warm and special could grow from their union.
Then there was his unexpected kindness, taking her to see her mother’s work.
But the fantasy was too painful. It scraped too close to the bone for a woman who’d been chosen, not for love or respect. Not even for convenience. But because Raul had no other option!
‘It’s good of you to help me get ready.’ She sent a shaky smile in Tamsin’s direction. Though this wasn’t a romantic match it was her wedding day. The day women looked to their mother for support.
Luisa had never missed her mum more.
‘It will be all right.’ Again Tamsin took her hand, chafing warmth into it. ‘I know how daunting it is marrying into a new world. Marrying royalty. But Raul will look after you. He’s like my Alaric. Strong and protective.’ She sent a speculative glance at Luisa. ‘And I suspect behind that well bred calm, very passionate.’
Heat roared through Luisa’s cheeks, banishing the chill that had frozen her all day.
Tamsin giggled, blushing herself. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just sometimes I feel like pinching myself. It all seems so unreal!’
‘I know what you mean.’ Tamsin was an outsider too—a commoner and a foreigner who’d married her prince in a love match that had intrigued everyone. But Tamsin had fallen in love. Luisa would face her royal marriage and the weight of public expectation without love to cushion the shock.
