A Royal Wedding

EPILOGUE



THE dock had been sanded and oiled till it gleamed in the sun, the rocks bordering the track freshly painted white. Flags fluttered gaily along the route, and the small harbour was filled with dozens of bobbing white pleasure craft.

It was to be a small affair, he’d promised her. No more than two or three hundred guests. And under the lure of a perfect summer’s day they spilled out of the massive ballroom and filled the grounds around the castle, admiring the view across the sea to the Italian coast or having their pictures taken in front of the dolphin fountain, where the water played and splashed like jewels in the bright sunshine.

He looked magnificent, she thought as she caught a glimpse of him through the crowd, in one of his beautifully tailored suits that showed the long, lean line of his body to perfection. He looked magnificent and at ease with himself at last—as if he’d cast his demons from his shoulders, as if he’d come to terms with his past. He’d even wooed the inevitable media, so it was now fully behind him, and covering his wedding as if it was some kind of fairytale. And it was a fairytale, she knew.

But it was much more than that. He was much more than that. Right now he was talking to someone hidden by the crowd, his beautiful scarred face animated and alive.

He caught her eye across the space and held it, and she felt that now familiar slow burn of heat flare up inside her as he excused himself and headed her way, looking neither left nor right as he cut a swathe towards her. He was at her side a heartbeat later, sweeping her up in one arm and swinging her around.

‘Have I told you how beautiful you look today, Countess Volta?’

She smiled. ‘Maybe once or twice,’ she said, though they both knew it was many, many more times than that. ‘And have I told you how magnificent you look, my husband?’

‘So many times,’ he growled, nuzzling her ear, ‘that I fear I may just start to believe it.’

‘Believe it,’ she said. ‘You are the most handsome man here.’

‘Grace—’

‘No, it is true. You are smiling so much you are like a beacon. Everyone wants to talk to you. Why else has it taken this long to have a moment with you alone?’

‘I was just talking to Professor Rousseau.’

Grace looked around, trying to find her through the crowd. ‘Oh, I should have come over to you. She doesn’t know many people here, Alessandro.’

‘She’s fine. I left her talking to my best man.’

‘To Bruno? I wouldn’t have thought they would have much in common.’

‘On the contrary. It turns out they both have pirate ancestors.

Bruno has offered to show the Professor through the caves below the castle.’

‘He has?’ She scanned the crowd, which finally parted enough that she could see them both in deep conversation. As if aware he was being discussed, Bruno suddenly looked up and gave a bashful smile. ‘He smiled at me,’ she said. ‘Bruno actually smiled.’

The man beside her laughed, and she found so much joy in the sound that she wondered … ‘Do you think it’s true, Alessandro—the legend of the Salus Totus? Do you think it really is a book of healing? Do you think it a coincidence that it was found here?’

He took her hands in his own. ‘I think you are the healer here, Grace. You came to an island where a monster resided, where only darkness existed. You lit up that world and shook it until your light and your love chased the darkness and the monster away. And I will love you for it for ever.’

He kissed her as tears sprang to her eyes. Tears of love. Tears of joy. Tears for the wasted years, and tears for all the years that were yet to come.

Years they would spend together.