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.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘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. Their circumstances were so different.
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she added, grateful to this initially reserved but warm-hearted woman.
‘So am I! And when you settle in, after your honeymoon, I hope we can spend more time together.’
Luisa nodded, not bothering to disabuse her. Raul was a workaholic. That was why the trip to the gallery had been such a lovely surprise. He wouldn’t take time off for a honeymoon. Not with a wife he didn’t really want.
A wife who was simply a solution to a problem.
A cold lump of lead settled in the pit of her belly as a soft knock sounded on the door.
‘It’s time, Your Highness.’
The music swelled and the massive doors swung open and Luisa stepped over the threshold into the castle chapel.
Multicoloured streams of light shone through ancient windows. A cloying wave of fragrance hit. Hothouse flowers and incense and a multitude of perfumes. Hundreds of faces turned to stare. She didn’t know a single one.
A rising tide of panic clawed at her, urging her to turn tail and run, as fast and as far as she could. Her heart slammed against her ribs and her knees shook.
She faltered, her hand curling into Alaric’s sleeve. He covered her hand with his and leaned close. ‘Luisa?’
‘This is a small wedding?’ Dazed, she saw heraldic banners, including some of the Maritzian red dragon, streaming from the lofty ceiling. The crowd murmured and it sounded like a roar.
‘Courage, little one. It’ll soon be over.’ He paced forward and she had no option but to follow. ‘Tamsin and I have a bet on who spots the most absurd hat. Weddings incite women to wear the most monstrous things on their heads, don’t you think?’
His sotto voce patter continued all the way down the aisle, almost distracting her from the throng of hungry-eyed guests. Watching. Judging. Finding her wanting.
Suddenly she caught a smile. Tamsin, in muted gold, giving her an encouraging nod. Behind her was another woman, platinum blonde, dripping jewels yet sour-mouthed.
Then, abruptly, they were at the end of the aisle. Bands of steel squeezed the breath from her lungs as, with a sense of inescapable inevitability, she turned her head towards the dark figure she’d avoided since she entered.
Raul, tall and heart-stoppingly handsome in a uniform of scarlet and black that made him look like the model for Prince Charming.
Something in her chest rose and swelled. Was it possible that perhaps they could make this work? The other day they’d surely started building a fragile relationship.
Then she read his expression. Austere, proud, stern. Not a scintilla of pleasure. A complete absence of anything that might one day turn into love. His mouth was a stern line, his jaw chiselled rock.
She blinked quickly, hating herself because even now, faced with his indifference, she yearned for the tenderness he’d begun to show her.
How could she? She knew what she was to him. How could she be so weak as to want the impossible?
Luisa gulped. It was like swallowing shards of glass.
Just as well she hadn’t allowed herself to pretend he reciprocated her inconvenient attraction.
Her hand tightened, talon-like as Alaric ushered her forward. But Raul took her hand in his, his other hand at her elbow as she swayed.
She had to quell this anxiety. She’d agreed to this. She looked away, to the mass of flowers by the altar: a riot of roses, orange blossom and lilies. Their scent was too pungent for her roiling stomach.