Robyn Donald - Royals - Wed To The Prince

But if a journalist got to hear about it, there was a chance that someone might dig deeper to discover the secret at the heart of her life. She’d cope—but her parents had to be protected.

Taking a deep breath, she asked, ‘When will you know?’

‘Things are still confused in Sant’Rosa, but my solicitor is confident that he’ll get an answer within two weeks. I shall, of course, let you know immediately.’

She nodded stiffly. ‘Thank you,’ she said again.

Eyes narrowed golden slivers beneath heavy eyelids, Guy scrutinised her face. ‘However, if this gets out you may find journalists contacting you to ask about your escape from Sant’Rosa.’

Lauren’s stomach dropped. Before she could stop herself, she said, ‘Oh, God no! The last thing I want is the media poking around in my life!’

Black brows lifting, he scanned her like a predator assessing prey, yet his voice was idly enquiring when he asked, ‘Any particular reason?’

Careful, she cautioned herself. ‘Just an innate dislike of figuring in headlines.’

He observed casually, ‘Which is why I warned you. Don’t answer the phone—tell the housekeeper to say you’re not here.’

Logic kicked in just in time to stop her from panicking. ‘But surely public interest in a small war on a tiny island nation is already waning? I noticed there wasn’t much in this morning’s paper.’ She added with a smile that was a bit lopsided, ‘I’m sure they’d like to discover the identity of “the mysterious Englishman” who fought for the Sant’Rosans, although that must be stale news now too.’

‘Unfortunately some fools tried to shoot down a plane leaving the airport,’ he said bluntly. ‘It’s stirred up the whole hornet’s nest again.’

Lauren bit her lip. ‘I can’t imagine Josef will tell anyone what happened.’

‘It’s unlikely,’ he agreed, angular features hard and determined, ‘but there were other people in the terminal building that night.’

‘They wouldn’t have seen anything,’ she said evenly, thoughts milling uselessly around in her mind. Trying to convince herself, she added, ‘And the journalists will be war correspondents. Surely they won’t be interested.’

‘A reporter is always a reporter. Curiosity is their trade.’ When she stayed silent he went on, ‘It’s not exactly a death sentence if you appear in a headline or two.’

His choice of words startled her, but she told herself not to overreact. Even if someone found out about the marriage ceremony, it didn’t mean that they’d pry any deeper into her life. Even if they did—

‘If you’re worried about anyone discovering that we spent several days together on Valanu—’

‘No,’ she said too quickly. ‘Well, I’d sooner it didn’t star in a media frenzy, of course, but I’m sure they won’t be interested in that.’

Resisting a gaze that frightened her with its probing intelligence, she finished on what she fervently hoped was a throwaway note, ‘Of course you’ll look even more of a hero than you already are.’ She indicated a newspaper on the table.

Ignoring it, he shrugged. ‘It means nothing.’

That maddening flash of memory resurfaced, only to vanish, leaving her to stare into the face of a stranger—a stranger she knew more intimately than any other man.

‘I know,’ she said stiffly. ‘It’s just that I value my privacy.’

‘As do we all.’ He looked around the elegant, civilised room and said, ‘This house is a far cry from Valanu. Are you going to show me the beach?’

Baffled and hurt by the whip-flick of contempt in his words, she said, ‘Yes, of course.’

They went out into the mellow autumn sunlight, Fancy joining them with a frisk of her head. Guy crouched down to stroke the golden head with a skill that indicated familiarity with dogs.

Fancy, of course, adored him, wriggling with delight when he scratched in exactly the right place behind her ears. Well, the dog was female, Lauren thought with a queer twist in her heart. Acquaintance made, he stood up in a lithe movement, tall and strong against the green of the garden, and looked around him with an expressionless face.

Lauren scanned the bold, autocratic bone structure, skin tingling as though she’d brushed up against an electric fence. ‘If we are married—if the ceremony was legal—what can we do?’

‘Annulment on the grounds of non-consummation being out of the question,’ he said curtly, ‘I presume it will mean divorce.’

A pang of—bitterness?—ripped through her. Trying to regain some sense of control, she dragged in a deep breath and led the way down to the beach. She bent sideways to take off her sandals and dropped them on the grassy bank beneath one of the huge pohutukawa trees. ‘Surely it will be invalid everywhere but Sant’Rosa?’

Despising the pleading note in her voice, she clamped her mouth on more words. When Guy didn’t answer she swung around to face him.

He said coolly, ‘A marriage contracted legally in one country is usually legal in any other, unless it’s polygamous. Even underage marriages are not necessarily invalid.’

Lauren concentrated on relaxing her taut muscles as she walked beside him along the sand, pleasantly warm beneath the soles of her feet. A gull soared up in front of them with a shriek that sounded too much like derisive laughter.

‘Thanks for warning me,’ she said slowly.

Fancy pushed into her, offering comfort for an emotion she’d never understand—one even Lauren didn’t recognise.

Guy’s face was a handsome mask over his thoughts. ‘If anyone contacts you, simply refuse to comment.’ He waited before adding with exquisite suavity, ‘You needn’t, of course, be concerned that I plan to claim any marital rights.’

Colour scorched along her cheekbones. ‘I’m not,’ she said shortly. ‘Why didn’t Josef tell us it might be valid?’

Guy’s mouth thinned. ‘If you remember, he warned us that it might be valid only on Sant’Rosa. But what else was he to do? He’s a good bureaucrat—even with his world falling to pieces around him, he wouldn’t send you to another country without papers.’

Lauren’s teeth savaged her lower lip for a second. Faced with the horror of war, Josef had done what he could to save her from a similar fate.

She said on a sigh, ‘If you wanted to make me feel like a heel, you’ve succeeded. Is he all right?’

‘As all right as a man can be who has lost his oldest son,’ he said brusquely.

Lauren’s eyes filled with sudden tears. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, groping for a handkerchief to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. ‘Against that, I haven’t got much to complain about.’

‘Not a lot.’ His tone was so dry it could have soaked up a minor lake or two. ‘It’s not a disaster, Lauren; inconvenient, certainly, and with the prospect of some rather fulsome and irritating publicity if it gets out, but nothing to panic about.’

Head held high, Lauren said, ‘Of course. But I don’t consider myself married to you!’

‘That,’ he said calmly, ‘is entirely mutual. On reflection, our charming idyll on Valanu was rash, but hindsight is always wiser than foresight.’ He turned and examined the house, a sprawling white place mellow with many years of love and care. ‘If the ceremony turns out to be legal, I’ll contact you so that we can apply to whatever court has the power to have the marriage dissolved.’

‘Thank you,’ she said automatically.

Still with his gaze on the house, he said, ‘You have a very indulgent employer. Does he allow all his executives to take their holidays in his private hideaway?’

How did he know that Marc was her employer?

Then she realised what he was implying.