To Marry a Prince (42 page)

In which case, she had to get rid of her mother.

‘And two lovely children,’ finished Janet, misty-eyed.

Bella hugged her, said she was wonderful, and walked her backwards to the door.

‘Um, yes, Mother. Do you – do you think you could leave me on my own for a bit now? I want to think. Yes, that’s right. I want to be alone with my thoughts. It’s such a big step, marriage.’

‘Of course, love.’

As soon as the door had closed behind her, Bella flew to the window and flung the sash up.

‘Are you mad?’ she scolded, leaning out to find her beloved hooked on to the stone window sill and swinging gently in the breeze.

He grinned up at her. His face was dirty and he looked as happy as a schoolboy. ‘Nope. Pretty good mood actually.’

‘Stay right there.’

‘Aren’t you going to let me in?’

‘Not until I’ve protected myself,’ said Bella grimly.

She was absolutely not going to mention bad luck with him hanging outside her third storey window. She was not even going to think about it. On the other hand, she was not taking any chances either. This bridegroom was not going to get a glimpse of the wedding dress until the appointed hour, just in case. She pulled the pretty chintz coverlet off the bed and wrapped it round herself.

‘OK then, Spiderman, in you come.’ She leaned over the window sill and helped him haul himself into the room.

Once he was there, she breathed again. Though she did not let him see her anxiety. You can’t tell someone they should be free to try any dangerous stunt they feel like and then freak out when they do, she thought. Damn it!

She still couldn’t stop herself saying, ‘You could have killed yourself.’

‘Nah,’ said Prince Richard, dull, stuffy, conscientious, dutiful, unemotional Prince Richard. He stamped some brick dust and paint over the priceless Aubusson and tidied his climbing axe away neatly. ‘I told you. I’ve been looking at this wall for ages, my love. I knew I could do it.’

‘But why today?’ she wailed, backing away from him, chintz clutched to her bosom.

He leaned forward and kissed her. ‘Because today I’m marrying you. Today I can do
anything
.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he said seriously. ‘You know me and I know you and we both know we’re stronger together than we’ll ever be apart. And we’ll have a hell of a lot more fun too.’

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ said Bella, unbearably moved and absolutely determined not to cry and mess up the work of art that was her make-up. ‘But if you get dust on my wedding dress, I will
kill
you. After all the effort it cost. And you still owe me a limerick, you waster.’

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Glad you mentioned that. Here it is.’
And from inside his climbing suit he produced a neat piece of parchment with the five-line verse written out in a hand that would not have shamed Shakespeare. ‘Enjoy. See you in church.’

‘
Cathedral
,’ she shouted after him.

But he had already shut the door behind him.

So she sat down in front of the mirror and looked at herself, in her fairytale dress, with her fairytale tiara and the bouquet of soft summer flowers, with the trails of ivy that Richard had insisted on. And then she looked at the ring he had designed for her. And read his poem.

And blushed.

And laughed.

And blushed and read it again.

And dabbed, terribly, terribly carefully at the corner of her eyes.

Then picked up her lovely skirts and went to promise her love everything she had to give.