Expecting Royal Twins! (12 page)

Rowdy’s eyes gleamed. “All your uncle wanted was for you to be safe and happy.”

“I am. Honest.”

“Then we’re good to go.” Her ex-boss sniffled. “You are a beautiful bride.”

“Thanks, Rowdy.” Izzy felt pretty, even though she’d had plenty of help to look so good. Since early this morning, she’d been fussed over, primped and pampered with a massage, manicure, pedicure and expert makeup application. Everything had been overseen and supervised by Jules. Three hairdressers had spent over an hour sweeping her hair up and through the diamond tiara that secured the cathedral-length veil. The last of the crystals and pearls had been hand-sewn on the bodice of her wedding gown only an hour ago by a dress designer named Delia.

Yes, the crew of wedding experts had transformed Izzy into a fairy-tale princess bride even though she’d been the prince’s wife for the last twenty-three years. A happily-ever-after wasn’t waiting for her after the exchange of “I dos.” The birth of heirs would classify the match as a success or a failure, but would the union be full of love or loveless? That was the big question. One that wouldn’t be answered for…years.

Two more attendants made the long walk down the aisle. In the vestibule, the remaining bridesmaids and six flower girls moved forward. Izzy had been introduced to all of them five days ago at a luncheon thrown by the wives of Parliament members.

Nerves escalating, Izzy gripped her all-white rose bouquet. She focused on the flowers’ sweet fragrance.

Three more attendants made their way down the aisle. The folds of their gowns swished like flags in the wind.

Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile.

Jules flashed her a smile and a thumbs-up before stepping into the church. The six flower girls, dressed in layers of white ruffles, played with the white rose petals in their baskets. One of them, the youngest daughter of a duke, giggled.

The tight-faced, headpiece-wearing wedding coordinator shushed her. “Quiet. It’s almost your turn.”

And then it would be Izzy’s turn.

Her pulse rate doubled. She took a calming breath. Another. And another. But it didn’t help.

In the old days, arranged marriages were quite successful. Why shouldn’t ours be?

She clung to Niko’s words, holding out the hope that they could spend the rest of their years together, not apart and married in name only.

The flower girls skipped into the church.

“It’s almost time, ma’am,” the wedding coordinator said.

Izzy’s heart slammed against her chest. Each fierce beat reminded her of the cannon being shot off during the royal orchestra’s performance of Tchaikovsky’s
1812 Overture
at the Royal Hall on Tuesday night.

Another flourish of trumpets sounded. Rather, bugles, as Niko had called them. The signal. Her signal.

“Ready?” Rowdy asked.

Izzy would never be ready for this.

She glanced behind her at the massive wooden church doors. Two royal guards flanked either side. The instinct to run had never been stronger. But where would she go? What would she do? And who would clean up the mess she left behind?

She might not be a fairy-tale princess locked in a tower, but she was a prisoner of circumstance as was Niko. The two of them were stuck with each other. Better just make the best of it.

Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile. “I’m ready.”

Rowdy kissed the top of her hand. “You’re the daughter I never had. I’m proud of you. I know Frank would be, too.”

Tears stung her eyes. Rowdy’s words filled her with warmth. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She took hold of his arm. Somehow she managed to lift her heavy feet and step into the church without tripping on her gown and falling on her face.

Dignitaries, royalty, even movie stars stood to watch her, but the faces blurred. She focused on the altar.

Her step faltered, but thanks to Rowdy’s strong arm no one realized her lapse.

Shoulders back. Chin up. Smile. And breathe.

Izzy needed to breathe or she was going to faint.

She neared the altar. Boyd wore a tuxedo and stood to the right in front of the pew where the king and queen sat.

Rowdy removed his arm from hers.

A tidal wave of doubt and apprehension surged down her spine. Izzy clutched the bouquet’s handle so hard it bent.

Rowdy gave her other hand a squeeze. The gesture reassured her. Then he placed her hand into Niko’s.

She stared at his neatly trimmed nails, smooth skin, strong hand. A husband’s hand. The father of her children’s hand.

His fingers clasped around hers. Tingles shot up her arm.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Slowly her gaze traveled to his sleeve—a gold braided cuff against black—and up his arm. He wasn’t wearing a tuxedo, but a uniform with gold braiding at the shoulders and a light blue sash, one of the colors from the Vernonian flag, worn diagonally across his chest. A thin row of white from his shirt collar could be seen at the top of the jacket. Ribbons and medals decorated the left side. He wore a thin gold belt around his waist.

He looked like a prince from the movies. Long, thick lashes framed familiar blue-green eyes. His straight nose complemented high cheekbones. Full lips contrasted with the sculpted planes of his face. A mane of brown hair fell to his wide shoulders.

He smiled, and his rugged features softened. Even his scar.

Tingles formed in her stomach.

Niko was almost too beautiful for a man, for a mere mortal. Yet here he stood, as if crafted by the angels in Heaven especially for her. Her heart sighed.

And that was when Izzy knew.

There was only one reason she’d agreed to remain married to Niko. He might not be Prince Charming, but that didn’t matter.

This might not be a love match for Niko, but it was turning into one for her.

She was already falling for her husband. And falling hard.

Niko stared at the woman standing next to him at the altar. Isabel wasn’t beautiful; she was stunning. With her light brown hair artfully arranged around a diamond tiara, she was the epitome of what a princess should look like. Her elegant white gown accentuated her curves and ivory complexion.

He should be happy. His people had rallied around this young American, but she wasn’t the princess bride he’d been expecting. Wanted. All his hopes and dreams for modernizing Vernonia had rested on his marriage to Julianna. Thanks to his father, Niko could forget about gaining entry into the European Union for years, if ever. His most important duty now was to impregnate Isabel.

Not that he would mind the task, but the rest…

We will have to figure out what type of work it takes. Together.

Niko had no idea what working together with Isabel would be like. He’d never had the same girlfriend for more than a couple of months, and even then he hadn’t had a lot of free time. His best friend and closest partner had been his older brother, Stefan, who had kept Niko out of trouble and saved his life on at least two occasions. He didn’t know how to create a new relationship. Having seen his parents’ arranged marriage would help, but Isabel…

He glanced down at her.

She stared up at him as if he were the sun, moon and stars rolled into one. He could barely breathe. No one had ever looked at him that way.

It had to be the emotion of the moment. Or her makeup.

Isabel came to this marriage out of duty, the same as him. She already had an escape route planned.

If we can’t figure it out, we can always just live apart.

He hoped things didn’t come to that, even though that was the way many of his peers lived once they had secured the necessary heirs.

The archbishop spoke.

Niko focused his attention on the celebrant, concentrating on the words of the opening prayer. He’d been too young to remember his first wedding ceremony. He should pay attention to this one. Unlike Izzy, he doubted an exchange of vows would make him feel more married. Only time and possibly a child would do that.

But no matter how he felt, Niko would put Vernonia first. He could still do his duty, as a prince and as a husband. And he would.

Even though Izzy was a continent away from home, the gestures and words of the ceremony were similar to weddings she’d attended back in Charlotte. That gave her an unexpected sense of familiarity. Comfort. The last things she’d expected to feel today.

Staring at Niko’s handsome face, Izzy concentrated on the archbishop’s words—love, honor, until death do you part.

“I do,” she said when he’d finished speaking.

Niko released a quick breath.

Relief, she hoped. Not regret.

She knew exactly what she wanted. A real marriage. The together forever kind. But in order for that to happen Niko had to fall for her the way she was falling for him.

“Do you have the rings?” the archbishop asked.

As the ring ceremony continued, Niko repeated the necessary words. Izzy prayed they would come true. He slid a beautiful wide diamond and ruby encrusted gold band on her ring finger. A perfect fit.

She ran her fingertip along the gold band she would give him. The royal historian claimed the diamond, ruby, emerald and sapphire cross heirloom ring not only provided protection, but also brought truth to light. Those two things had made choosing this wedding band from the royal family collection an easy one. She gripped it hard, afraid she might drop it. “I give this ring as a token of my love and fidelity.”

With only the slightest tremble, she slid the ring onto his finger. Once again, a perfect fit.

The archbishop declared them husband and wife. He smiled. “You may kiss your bride.”

Their first kiss. Izzy tensed due to a mix of nerves and anticipation. And the thousands of onlookers.

As Niko lowered his mouth to hers, she closed her eyes.

His lips brushed hers and disappeared.

That was it? Izzy pushed aside her disappointment and opened her eyes. She thought Niko had wanted to kiss her.

Suddenly his mouth returned, pressing against her lips. Hard, demanding, as if seeking her very soul. The urgency and need in his kiss frightened yet excited Izzy. She’d never been kissed like this.

It took every ounce of willpower not to cling to him, but she couldn’t forget where she was. And who was watching. Not only the guests sitting in the pews, but a television audience watching at home.

Niko drew back, but only far enough to whisper in her ear. “I cannot wait for tonight.”

Anticipation buzzed through her. Izzy moistened her thoroughly kissed lips and glanced at the shimmering diamond ring on her finger.

She couldn’t wait for tonight, either.

The reception passed in a blur. The guests seemed to be enjoying themselves with the free-flowing champagne and mouthwatering food. Or cuisine as the queen called it.

Unbelievably Izzy felt like a princess. She floated across the dance floor, whirling and twirling to the orchestra, with Niko’s strong arms around her. He stayed at her side the entire time, introducing her to so many diplomats and dignitaries she couldn’t begin to remember their names. Rarely did he let go of her hand. She felt special, cherished, and that eased some of her nerves about what would happen later tonight.

Their wedding night.

She was excited, but a little worried about the two of them alone. Together. In bed.

After cutting the cake, Izzy stood at the railing of the landing between two sets of curved staircases for the bouquet toss. She held onto the handle of her white rose bouquet. Anticipation filled the eyes of the women standing below her.

“Is something wrong?” Niko asked in a low voice that seeped through her like warm caramel sauce.

“No.” She remembered being one of the single ladies called to the dance floor at a friend’s wedding last summer. No matter their station in life, royal or commoner, women wanted to catch the bouquet. “Just taking it all in.”

“Savor the moment,” Niko whispered. “But you may want to put the women out of their misery sooner rather than later.”

With a smile, Isabel turned her back to the railing. On three, she let the flowers soar into the air behind her. She whipped around.

Women reached for flowers. A few missed by mere inches. The petals grazed another’s fingertips. The bouquet landed in Jules’s hands. The lovely princess stared down at the roses in wide-eyed dismay and promptly dropped them.

Izzy laughed, but no one else seemed amused.

The wedding coordinator rushed to Jules’s side, scooped up the bouquet and placed them in the stunned princess’s hands. The royal photographer corralled Jules for a picture with the bride.

Izzy stared at the camera. “You’re smiling, but your eyes don’t look happy.”

“Catching the bouquet might be a sign,” Jules admitted. “I fear I may find myself matched to another royal in need of a wife before I return home to Aliestle.”

The camera flash made Izzy blink. They struck a different pose for the photographer. “Stay here.”

Jules sighed. “I wish I could.”

“I’m serious,” Izzy said. “We’re spending tonight at the castle, but then we leave on our honeymoon. The king and queen won’t mind. They like having guests.”

“My father might mind.”

“At least think about it,” Izzy urged.

“I will,” Jules said. “Thank you.”

Hours later in the suite that would be the bedroom Izzy shared with her husband, servants helped her out of her wedding gown. All the while, she wondered why Niko wasn’t doing this. Wasn’t a husband supposed to undress his wife on their wedding night?

Mare combed out her hair. Another woman ran a warm bath. A third lay out Izzy’s peignoir set. The lovely confection of thin white fabric, lace and ribbon had been a gift from Jules.

Izzy appreciated the women’s efforts. They were just trying to do their jobs, but what was next? A mug of warm milk and a plate of cookies?

All this pampering felt odd. Off. The most important part of tonight was missing. Where could Niko be? The future of their marriage didn’t bode well when a husband blew off his wife on their wedding night.