To Catch a Star (24 page)

“I met someone else. I slept with someone else.”

“Christian,” Stefan guessed. He didn’t look particularly worried. He looked as calm and sensible as always. As calm and sensible as she usually was. “Do you plan to see him again?”

“Never.”

“Have you changed your mind about marrying me?”

“No, of course not! I still want to marry you. But I’ll understand if you don’t want to marry me.” She twisted her hands together, waiting breathlessly for his answer.

He nodded slowly. “Nothing has changed for me. I still want a marriage uncluttered with messy emotions. But I need someone who’s got my back. You need to commit to this. So if you want to throw our partnership away for a bit of leg-over, then you have to decide now.”

She flinched at his choice of words.

Compared to Christian’s volatility, Stefan’s rational and unemotional manner was a stark contrast. It was also cold and distant. Was that what she was like too?

But this was what she wanted. At least Stefan wouldn’t profess his love one moment and accuse her of being a cold-hearted Mata Hari the next. Passion was fickle and painful.

So what if she never felt emotions again? So what if the world thought her hard-hearted? Better that than being thought loose and immoral. Better that than this constant pull of lust and fear and love.

She lifted her chin. “I’m sure,” she said.

Stefan pulled her close and hugged her. She rested her cheek against his shoulder.

No sparks at all.

His touch made her feel calm and secure rather than lit up inside. She blinked away her tears of relief and hugged him back. And if there was a little desperation mixed with her relief, then no one needed to know.

Maybe one day Christian would understand that she’d done the right thing. She’d made the same hard decision his parents had made. Sacrificing personal happiness because it was the right thing to do.

It was snowing again, filling the footprints on the pavements and on the cathedral steps, creating a fresh slate.

Inside the old monastery buildings, a room had been prepared as a bridal chamber. Stark compared to the lavish hotel rooms most brides choose, but it was a haven compared to her own home, currently under siege by caterers and florists and musicians.

The bare little room was more than adequate for Tessa’s needs. Bright light streamed in through tall arched windows, making the day appear deceptively warm.

Anton and Marie fluttered about her, fussing over the dress, touching up her make-up. Amidst their fussing, Tessa stood in an island of calm. She felt numb inside.

The scent of jasmine wafted over
her from the imported buds Marie had dressed into her carefully styled hair. “You’re the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen,” she said, dabbing her eyes.

Tessa faced her reflection in the mirror and carefully fastened the new earrings from Stefan in place. The gift from Tiffany’s, her something new and something blue. The gems that sparkled in the delicate gold earrings were the exact shade of Christian’s eyes.

The woman in the mirror looked back at her, composed, regal. But something was missing.

She had everything she’d ever wanted, but she didn’t have the one thing she needed.

Anton stepped away to answer the knock at the door.

For a moment, Tessa’s heart beat a staccato rhythm. Frantic hope blossomed. Then her gaze met her father’s in the mirror. He smiled, proud, happy, as he stepped into the room and she managed to smile back.

She had to remember what she’d told Christian. This marriage wasn’t for her. It was for her family. Their families. Not only the hundreds of years of tradition and expectation, but the new family they’d create together. Stronger, united.

But for a fleeting moment she heard Christian’s voice.
You still all keep together, marry each other, exclude anyone who isn’t like you.

She didn’t want to be like that. She’d never wanted to be like that.

She wanted to hold Christian’s baby in her arms.

But he hadn’t offered her that. She pressed her eyelids closed against the tears. Not so numb after all.

“You are beautiful.” Her father leaned forward to kiss her forehead. He so seldom showed affection that the gesture brought more tears to her eyes.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“It’s waterproof mascara,” Marie said, smiling knowingly. “You’re allowed to feel emotional today.”

“We’ll be waiting for you inside the church, darling,” said Anton. He squeezed her hand as he passed, then he and Marie were gone and it was just her and her father.

“Are you happy, Tessie?”

He hadn’t called her that since she was a little girl, still young enough to crawl into his lap whenever she was scared.

She was scared witless now.

She nodded.

“Look at me.” He lifted her chin. “This is your last chance to back out. Once you walk down that aisle, there’ll be no turning back. Are you sure Stefan is the right man for you?”

She wasn’t sure. But what she was sure of was that Christian hated her. And he would be leaving Paris now, on his way to the Caribbean.

And without him, the world just seemed grey and so cold, as if all the vitality had leached out of it.

“Of course I’m happy. I’m getting married today.” This was everything she’d ever dreamed. The big white wedding to a man so perfect he was almost too good to be true. A good man, from a good family, with a wonderful career ahead of him. He was going to take her to interesting places and then they were going to have a family, and they would settle back here in Westerwald and Stefan would change the world.

Her father took her hands in his. “Space in a marriage is a good thing, but too much space… that simply means you don’t have enough holding you together.” He drew in a rough breath. “I should know. Your mother and I wanted such different things. We thought we could make it work if we just gave each other enough space. Instead, we became strangers who shared the same house. We resented each other. I worry that’s what your future will hold.”

“Stefan and I are nothing like you and her. We’re very much alike. We’re partners. We like the same things.”

He smiled sadly. “Do you? Then why do you do them apart?”

There was no way she could cross her fingers without her father seeing. So she raised her gaze to his, prayed his bullshit radar was defective today, and lied to his face. “I want to marry Stefan.”

“Then let’s do it.” He held out his arm and she took it. They moved towards the doors.

Tessa had stood inside Neustadt’s Notre Dame cathedral hundreds of times over the years, yet she’d never seen it as beautiful as it looked today. Sunlight streamed through tall medieval stained-glass windows onto the uneven flag-stoned floor. The organ’s music swelled, joined by a choir of young voices.

The scene was so breathtaking that tears pricked her eyes. She blinked them back. She didn’t want to test Marie’s claim that the mascara was waterproof.

Not with the cameras all pointing in her direction.

They stood in the ante-chamber, behind the flower girls and page boys, who itched to be moving, though Anna held them back until the music changed.

Tessa’s hand trembled on the herringbone-wool sleeve of her father’s morning coat. He turned to look at her, a mixture of love and pride shining in his eyes. She knew she was a credit to him. The perfect daughter, the perfect bride, marrying the perfect man.

It was all just too perfect.

“Connie Hewitt didn’t steal the ring,” she said. “It was given to her.”

“What?” Her father faced her. “We can talk about this later, Teresa.”

“No, we can’t. There was no treason and no one close to the royal family betrayed their trust.”

He frowned. “Then who gave it to her?”

“Archduke Christian.”

He looked puzzled. “Why would he do that?”

“Because she was pregnant with his child.”

The organ shifted into “Here Comes the Bride”. She’d never liked the tune and would have preferred something less clichéd, but she’d gone with the tradition anyway.

It’s what everyone will expect
.

The assembled crowd rose to its feet, hundreds of smiling faces turned to look at her. Her father, experienced as he was at hiding his feelings, took a moment to school his features into a smile. She suspected she was the only one not smiling.

She wanted to check her cleavage. She heard the echo of Christian’s advice:
Whatever you do, don’t look down.

She hadn’t needed it then, but she needed it now. She lifted her chin.

She could do this. She had to do this.

By now Christian would be in the air, heading home to Los Pajaros. No longer the bastard, but a bastard prince.

She set one foot in front of the other, matching her father’s precise processional march.

She still hadn’t seen Stefan. He was obscured from her by the guests. She couldn’t think of them as friends and family. Most of the them were people she barely knew. Her father’s business associates. Stefan’s family, his friends, his business associates.

What was Los Pajaros like? Was it hot and dusty and sweaty, or did the breeze smell of coconut and flowers? Did champagne taste any different drunk on a Caribbean beach than it did in a Parisian hotel?

As they neared the front of the cathedral’s nave, dominated by the ornately carved wooden pulpit that pre-dated the Reformation, she caught sight of a row of familiar faces. This time she didn’t blink back the tears.

Anna. Lee. Anton. Marie. Max and his fiancée Phoenix.

She’d once believed Max would be her brother-in-law. That it would be Fredrik she’d be moving down the aisle to meet.

Fredrik, who she’d known her whole life. Just as she’d known Stefan. They’d all moved in the same elite circles, attended the same debutantes’ balls, the horse races, the palace garden parties.

Fear gripped her. This was her world. The only world she’d ever known. By walking down this aisle and taking Stefan’s hand she’d be safe in that world forever.

You’re scared.
Christian’s voice vibrated in her head.

She was no longer scared of losing everything. She’d already lost the one person who mattered most. No, what scared her was that the things she’d wanted – the things she’d believed she wanted – would smother her.

Again, the strangled feeling gripped her, the same feeling she’d had the night of the charity banquet when Christian leapt into her car. The fear had blinded her to everything else then, but now her eyes were wide open.

The only moments she hadn’t felt that fear this last month were the moments when Christian had been near.

But could she do this alone?

Look at what happened when her mother left the safety of their clique. Amalie had died alone and bitter, lost. She’d died with a stomach full of sleeping pills and only been found three days later.

Stefan stepped into her line of vision. Debonair in his dove-grey morning suit, with a white rose clipped to his lapel, the ivory satin of his waistcoat impeccably uncreased.

His warm gaze met hers. He smiled.

Her step faltered.

Her father gripped her arm, steadying her. But she didn’t know if anything could steady the off-balance feeling inside. The feeling that she was making a terrible mistake.

There was nothing she could do about it now.

Not with everyone watching, expectant. It was too late now.

And Christian’s plane should be somewhere over the Canary Islands, heading out across the Atlantic. She’d never been across the Atlantic before. Would Stefan take her with him on his next business trip to the States?

She handed her bouquet of blood-red roses to her maid of honour, a distant cousin she only ever saw at weddings and funerals.

Her father passed her hand to Stefan, who took it with a slight squeeze.

Stefan smiled, open and encouraging. But there was something missing.

It wasn’t just the spark she felt with Christian. Chemistry was, after all, nothing more than a mix of fallible hormones. Chemistry didn’t last. Sparks died out.

But there was something else missing. That light she’d seen in Christian’s eyes.

Stefan was a good man. He was honest and honourable. He cared for her. He’d take care never to hurt her. He’d be a solid provider and a loving father. He was a considerate lover.

He didn’t treat her as if she were a treasure he’d unearthed. He didn’t love her.

The way that Christian did.

Oh God, what had she done?

Christian exited the hotel behind the porter, who wheeled his luggage to the rear of the car and helped Frank load it into the boot.

Where the hell was Dominic? They were already late for their flight. Not that it mattered, since they’d chartered their own plane, but pilots got snippy about things like that.

He glanced back at the entrance of the hotel. But it wasn’t Dominic he was missing.

Frank opened the door for him. “It feels strange leaving without her,” he said.

Christian slid into the rear seat of the sedan. Not just strange. It felt wrong.

But he couldn’t turn the clock back. He was no longer angry with Tessa. He’d had some time these last few days to shift his perspective. He hadn’t planned on returning to Westerwald. The more space he could put between him and Tessa, the better.

But curiosity had won out. He’d come back to Neustadt, this time as a tourist. He’d explored this town he’d been conceived in and learned its history. He’d met Max.

He rubbed his face. His eyes hurt. He hadn’t slept in days.

So Tessa hadn’t seduced him for her own devious ends. It had taken him all of two seconds after she walked out to remember she hadn’t exactly thrown herself at him. She’d been reluctant and he’d had to work to seduce her.

But that didn’t matter.

He’d bared his soul to her, and she’d lied to him.

That did matter.

And she’d chosen Stefan over him.

She’d gone and taken with her all the light and meaning and joy in his life, and there was nothing he could do to bring it back.

Frank shut the door, sealing Christian into a warm, safe cocoon. He sank his head in his hands and waited for Frank to get in the driver’s seat and fire up the engine. The door opened and shut, but the engine did not rev to life. Christian looked up.

Frank contemplated him in the mirror. “We could swing past the cathedral on the way to the airport. We still have about fifteen minutes before she walks down the aisle.”

Had Frank gone insane? “I have absolutely no desire to see her marry someone else.”

“I thought you might want to stop the wedding,” Frank explained patiently.

“She doesn’t want me. That enough information for you to start the engine and leave my love life alone?”

Frank shrugged and turned the key.

The door opened and Dominic slung his hold-all inside. “Sorry I’m late. What have I missed?”

“I suggested to Mr Taylor he might want to make a stop on the way to the airport, however it seems he’s disinclined to.”

“Don’t bother. I already tried.” Dominic flopped onto the seat beside his bag, and shut the door. “He doesn’t want to listen.”

Christian frowned. They had a plane to catch, and he wasn’t in the mood for this.

“Just to be clear.
Tessa doesn’t want me
.”

The pain clawed at his chest again, as if a tiger was inside trying to get out.

Dom and Frank exchanged looks.

“Of course she wants you,” Dom sighed his impatience. “Want me to go online to Huff Post Celebrity and pull up the pictures of you leaving the premiere the other night? Cause any fool can see the two of you are hopelessly gone on each other.”

“Then why is she marrying some other guy?”

“Because she’s scared.”

What did Tessa have to be scared of? She lived in her safe little bubble. She had respect, wealth, family – all the things he still didn’t take for granted.

But she’d said that Stefan would never abandon her. And Christian, fool that he was, had done nothing to persuade her he wouldn’t. Or that they could make this work. Not just for a weekend, but for a lifetime.