The Royal Collection. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.
her heart was going to burst with happiness. Every few minutes someone called out, “Queen Christina!” When she turned, people were taking pictures.
Antonio sat next to her and squeezed the hand that wasn’t waving. “You know what they want, bellissima.”
She looked back at him. “You mean a kiss? I want it much more.” Showing breathtaking initiative that would probably cause her to blush later, she kissed him several times to the joy of the crowds.
The capital city of Halencia teemed with joyful faces and shouts of “Long live the monarchy.”
“Your country loves you, darling. You don’t know how magnificent you looked when the archbishop put that crown on your head.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t have to keep wearing it. How does yours feel?”
“I like the tiara. It’s light.”
“Your hair outshines its gleam.”
They were both wearing their wedding clothes. The only thing different was the red sash on Antonio proclaiming him king.
“We made a lot of promises today.” She kept waving. So did he.
“Are you worried?”
“No, but the sun is hot,” he muttered. Their procession went on for over an hour.
Christina laughed. “I feel it too. But don’t worry. We’ll make it through and be alone later.”
“I can’t wait.”
Eventually the carriage returned them to the palace. On their way up to the balcony off the second floor, Antonio summoned Guido to bring them a sandwich and a drink. The chief of staff, who’d chosen to stay on with Antonio, looked shocked, but he sent someone for the food.
Antonio whispered in her ear, “Did you see that look he gave us?”
“We’re breaking royal protocol, darling.”
“We’ll be breaking a lot of rules before my reign has come to an end.”
She shivered. “Don’t talk about that. I can’t bear the thought of it.”
When the sandwich arrived, they both ate a half and swallowed some water. Feeling slightly more refreshed, they walked out onto the balcony to the roar of the crowd.
To please them her husband kissed her again with so much enthusiasm she actually swayed in his arms. A thunderous roar of satisfaction broke from the enormous throng that filled every square inch of space.
Once the royal photographers had finished taking pictures, Antonio grasped her hand. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“To our home for some R and R until the ball this evening.”
“But we’re supposed to mingle with all the dignitaries.”
“There’ll be time for that tonight.”
She hurried along with him, out of breath by the time they reached their apartment. When they entered, they discovered a lavish meal laid out for them in the dining room.
“Who arranged for this, darling?” she asked.
“My mother. She said it would be an exhausting day and we’d need it.”
“I think she’s wonderful.”
Once in the bedroom, she removed her tiara and asked him to undo the buttons of her wedding dress. “That didn’t take long. You did that so fast I’m afraid you’ve lost interest already. Last time you took forever.”
“I hope it drove you crazy.” He bit her earlobe gently when he’d finished. “Did it?”
“I’ll never tell.”
Antonio caught her to him and rocked her in his arms for a long, long time.
“Your capacity to love is a gift,” he whispered against her cheek. “I don’t know how I was the one man on earth lucky enough to be loved by you. I’m thankful your mother came to see you on the day we got back from Tuscany. She was able to answer the question that’s always been in your heart. The sadness in your eyes has disappeared.”
Christina threw her arms around his neck and looked into those blue eyes filled with love for her. “You’re right. And now I have one more secret to disclose. You were always the man for me. When you asked me to get engaged, I jumped, leaped at the opportunity. To be honest, deep down I was petrified you would come to Africa and call it off. So I played it cagey, and it paid off!”
After enjoying a meal, they made love again before it was time to go out to greet their guests and enjoy the royal celebration. Guido looked frantic as they approached the balcony.
“Your Highness, we’ve been waiting for your appearance to start the fireworks.”
Antonio hugged her waist. “We’re here now.”
No sooner had they stepped out so everyone could see them than a huge roar of excitement from the throng of people filled the air. Suddenly there was a massive fireworks display that lit up the sky, bursting and bursting, illuminating everything. Antonio looked into Christina’s eyes. Her heart was bursting with happiness.
“Ti amo, Antonio.”
He stared at her. “Darling, you’re crying. What’s wrong?”
“I’m so happy tonight I can’t contain it all.”
Giving the crowd what they wanted by kissing her, he whispered, “My beautiful wife. This is only the beginning. Ti amo, bellissima. Forever.”
* * * * *
Cara Colter
In memory of Hunter 1997–2007
Beloved.
JAKE Ronan took a deep, steadying breath, the same kind he would take and hold right before the shot or the assault or the jump.
No relief. His heart was beating like a deer three steps ahead of a wolf pack. His palms were slick with sweat.
He was a man notorious for keeping his cool. And in the past three years that notoriety had served him well. He’d taken a hijacked plane back from the bad guys, jumped from ten thousand feet in the dead of night into territory controlled by hostiles, rescued fourteen school-children from a hostage taking.
But in the danger-zone department nothing did him in like a wedding. He shrugged, rolled his shoulders, took another deep breath.
His old friend, Colonel Gray Peterson, recently retired, the reason Ronan was here on the tiny tropical-island paradise of B’Ranasha, shifted uneasily beside him. Under his breath he said a word that probably had never been said in a church before. “You don’t have your sideways feeling, do you?” Gray asked.
Ronan was famous among this tough group of men, his comrades-in-arms, for the feeling, a sixth sense that warned him things were about to go wrong, in a big way.
“I just don’t like weddings,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately hushed. “They make me feel uptight.”
Gray contemplated that as an oddity. “Jake,” he finally said reassuringly, his use of Ronan’s first name an oddity in itself, “it’s not as if you’re the one getting married. You’re part of the security team. You don’t even know these people.”
Ronan had never been the one getting married, but his childhood