A Bride For The Playboy Prince. Sandra MartonЧитать онлайн книгу.
of a country which had a reputation for excellence—and the staff had pulled out all the stops for the unexpected wedding of their ruler to his English bride. But when it boiled down to it, it was just a room.
His face tightening with tension, he thought about the many generations of his family who had married in the august surroundings of the famous cathedral in Mardovia’s capital. Grand weddings attended by other royals, by world leaders, politicians and aristocracy. Huge, glittering affairs which had been months in the planning and talked about for years afterwards.
But there would be no such wedding for him.
Because how could he marry in front of his traditionally conservative people with such a visibly pregnant bride in tow? Wouldn’t it flaunt his own questionable behaviour, as well as risking offending Princess Sophie—a woman adored by his subjects? This was to be a small and discreet ceremony, with a woman who did not want to take part in it.
He allowed himself a quick glance at the chairs on which her small family sat. The sister who looked so like her, and her boyfriend Jason, who Lisa clearly didn’t trust. Just as she didn’t trust him. Luc watched the casually dressed man with the slightly too long hair glance around the ornate room, unable to hide his covetous expression as he eyed up the lavish fixtures and fittings. He sensed Lisa was disappointed that the new house and income which had been given to her sister had failed to remove Jason from the equation. It seemed that her sister’s love for him ran deep...
But her dysfunctional family wasn’t the reason he was here today and Luc tensed as the Mardovian national anthem began to play. Slowly, he turned his head to watch as Lisa made her entrance, his heart pounding as she started to walk towards him and he was unprepared—and surprised—by the powerful surge of feeling which ran through him as she approached.
His mouth dried to dust as he stared at his bride, thinking how beautiful she looked, and he felt the inexplicable twist of his heart. More beautiful than he could ever have imagined.
She had left her hair spilling free—a glossy cascade broken only by the addition of white flowers which had been carefully woven into the honeyed locks. To some extent, the glorious spectacle of her curls drew the eye away from her rounded stomach, but her dressmaker’s eye for detail had also played a part in that—for her gown was cleverly designed to minimise the appearance of her pregnancy. Heavy cream satin fell to her knee and the matching shoes showcased shapely legs which, again, distracted attention from her full figure. And, of course, the gleaming tiara of diamonds and pearls worn by all Mardovian brides drew and dazzled the eye. Beside her, with one chubby little hand clinging on tightly, walked the toddling shape of her little niece—her only bridesmaid.
And then Luc looked into Lisa’s face. At the unsmiling lips and shuttered eyes, and a sense of disappointment whispered over him. She certainly wasn’t feigning a joy she clearly didn’t feel! Her expression was more suited to someone about to attend their own execution rather than their wedding.
Yet could he blame her? She had never sought closeness—other than the purely physical variety. This must be the last thing in the world she wanted. His jaw tightened. And what about him? He had never intended for this to happen either. Yet it had happened. Fate had presented him with a very different kind of destiny from the one mapped out for him, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. He stared at her as a powerful sense of certainty washed over him. Except vow to be the best father and husband he could possibly be.
Could he do that?
‘Are you okay?’ he questioned as she reached his side.
Okay? Chewing on her lip, Lisa bent to direct her little niece over to the ornate golden chair to sit beside her mother. No, she was not okay. She felt like a puppet. Like a thing. She was being dragged into matrimony like some medieval bride who had just been bought by her powerful master.
But if she was being forced to go through with this marriage, maybe she ought to do it with at least the appearance of acceptance. Wouldn’t it be better not to feed the prejudices of his staff when she sensed they already resented his commoner bride? So she forced a smile as she stepped up beside Luc’s towering figure.
‘Ecstatic,’ she murmured and met the answering glint in his eyes.
The ceremony passed in a blur and afterwards there was a small reception. But an overexcited Tamsin started running around and ground some wedding cake into an antique rug, and Lisa didn’t like the way Jason seemed to be hovering over a collection of precious golden artefacts sitting on top of a beautiful inlaid table.
It was Luc who smoothly but firmly brought the proceedings to an end—and Lisa had to swallow down the sudden tears which sprang to her eyes as she hugged her little niece goodbye, before clinging tightly to her sister.
‘I’m going to miss you, Britt,’ she said fiercely.
And Brittany’s voice wobbled as she hugged her back. ‘But you’ll be back, won’t you, Lisa? My lovely new house is certainly big enough to accommodate my princess sister,’ she whispered. ‘Or we can come out and stay with you in Mardovia. We’ll still see each other, won’t we?’
Lisa met her sister’s eyes. How did you tell your closest relative you were terrified of being swallowed up by an alien new life which would shut out the old one for good? With a deep breath, she composed herself. You didn’t. You just got on with things and made the best of them, the way she’d done all her life. ‘Of course we will,’ she said.
‘Are you ready, Lisa?’ came Luc’s voice from behind her and she nodded, glad that confetti was banned on the surrounding fancy London streets—because she honestly didn’t think she could smile like some happy hypocrite as she walked through a floating cloud of rose petals.
A car whisked them to the airfield, where they were surrounded by officials. Someone from the Aviation Authority insisted on presenting Lisa with a bouquet, which only added to her feelings of confusion because she wasn’t used to people curtseying to her. It wasn’t until they were high in the sky over France that she found herself alone with Luc at last, and instantly she was subjected to a very different kind of confusion—a sensual tug-of-war which had become apparent the moment the aircraft doors had closed and they were alone together.
He had changed from his Mardovian naval uniform and was wearing a dark suit which hugged his powerful frame, and his olive skin looked golden and glowing. His long legs were spread out in front of him and, distractingly, she couldn’t stop remembering their muscular power and the way he had shuddered with pleasure as she had coiled her fingertips around them. Her mouth dried and she wondered if he knew how uncomfortable she was feeling as his sapphire gaze rested thoughtfully on her.
‘Now, as weddings go...’ he elevated his black brows in a laconic question ‘...was that really so bad?’
She shrugged. ‘That depends what you’re comparing it with. Better than being adrift at sea for three days with no water, I suppose—though probably on a par with being locked up for life and having the key thrown away.’
‘Oh, Lisa.’ The brief glint of amusement which had entered his eyes was suddenly replaced with a distinct sense of purpose. ‘Your independent attitude is something I’ve always enjoyed but this marriage isn’t going to work if you’re going to spend the whole time being obstructive.’
‘And what did you think I was going to do?’ she questioned, her voice low because she was aware that although the officials were out of sight, they were still very much present. ‘Fall ecstatically into your arms the moment you slid the ring on my finger?’
‘Why not? You wouldn’t hear any objection from me and it’s pretty obvious that the attraction between us is as powerful as it ever was—something which was demonstrated on the night our baby was conceived. And now we’re man and wife,’ he said, sliding his hand over her thigh and leaving it to rest there, ‘isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? Isn’t it a pity to let all this frustrated desire go to waste?’
Lisa stared down at the fingers which were outlined against the grey silk jersey of her ‘going away’ dress