Wedding Party Collection: Marrying The Prince: The Prince She Never Knew / His Bride for the Taking / A Queen for the Taking?. Кейт Хьюит
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could go on and on, Alyse knew, pointlessly wishing things had been different before, were different now. She forced herself to stop. This was what she had to deal with, to accept and make work. And this morning had been a beginning, a hopeful one. She needed to focus on that and let it be enough, for now at least. Maybe for ever.
Half an hour later they’d changed into swimsuits underneath tee-shirts and shorts and Leo was leading the way along the beach to where a gorgeous catamaran was pulled up on the sand.
Alyse came to a stop in front of the boat. ‘Are we going in that?’
‘I arranged it with the staff. I thought we’d have a better time if we could go out a bit farther.’ He glanced at her, his brows knitted together in a frown. ‘Are you all right with boats? I know some people are afraid of open water.’
His thoughtfulness touched her, belated as it was. It really was so confoundedly easy for Leo to affect her, she thought. To make her love him. ‘It’s fine,’ she told him. ‘It’s great, actually. I love sailing.’
And as Leo navigated the boat out into the sea, the sun bathing them both in warm, golden light, Alyse stretched out on the bridge deck, it was great. It was fantastic.
She tilted her head back so the sun bathed her face and felt herself begin to relax, the tension dropping from her shoulders, her body loosening and leaning into the sun. She’d been strung as taut as a bow for far too long; it felt good to unbend.
When they were out on the open water, the sea shimmering in every direction, Leo came and joined her on the bridge deck.
‘You look like you’re enjoying yourself.’
She lowered her head to smile at him, one hand shading her eyes from the dazzling sun. ‘I am. It’s good to be away from it all.’
He sat beside her, his long, muscular legs stretched out next to hers, his hands braced behind him. ‘The media attention was a bit wild these last few months.’
‘I’ll say. The journalists were going through my rubbish, and my parents’ rubbish, and my friends’ as well.’
His mouth twisted in a grimace. ‘I’m sorry.’
She shrugged in response. ‘I signed up for it, didn’t I? When I agreed.’
‘That still doesn’t make it pleasant.’
‘No, but you’ve been living with it for your whole life, haven’t you?’
His eyes narrowed, although whether just from the sun or because of what she’d said Alyse didn’t know.
‘I have,’ he agreed without expression and then he rose from the deck. ‘We’re out far enough now. We can anchor soon.’
She watched him at the sails of the catamaran, the muscles of his back rippling under the tee-shirt that the wind blew taut against his body. She felt a rush of desire but also a swell of sympathy. She hadn’t considered Leo’s childhood all that deeply before; she knew as prince and heir he’d lived in the spotlight for most of his life.
Of course, the glare of that spotlight had intensified with their engagement. Did he resent that? Did he resent her, for making something he must not like worse? It was a possibility she’d never considered before, and an unwelcome one at that.
A few minutes later Leo set anchor and the catamaran bobbed amid the waves as he tossed their snorkelling equipment on the deck.
He tugged off his tee-shirt and shorts and Alyse did the same, conscious once again of the skimpiness of the string bikini she wore. She hadn’t found a single modest swimming costume in her suitcases.
She looked up and there could be no mistaking the blaze of heat in his eyes. ‘Your swimming costumes,’ he remarked, ‘are practically indecent.’
Alyse felt a prickly blush spread not just over her face but her whole body. ‘Sorry. I didn’t choose them.’
‘No need to apologise. I quite like them.’ He handed her a pair of fins and then tugged his own on. ‘What do you mean, you didn’t choose them?’
‘All my clothes are chosen by stylists.’
He frowned. ‘Don’t you see them first? And get to approve them?’
Alyse shrugged. ‘I suppose I could have insisted, but...’ She trailed off, not wanting to admit how cowed she’d been by Queen Sophia’s army of stylists and staff who had seemed to know so much more than her, and had obviously not cared about what she thought.
At eighteen, overawed and more than a little intimidated, she hadn’t possessed the courage to disagree with any of them, or so much as offer her own opinion. As the years had passed, bucking the trend had just become harder, not easier.
‘I didn’t realise you had so little say in such matters. I suppose my mother can be quite intimidating.’
‘That’s a bit of an understatement,’ she answered lightly, but Leo just frowned.
‘You were so young when we became engaged.’
She felt herself tense uneasily, unsure what he was implying. ‘Eighteen, as you know.’
‘Young. And sheltered.’ His frown deepened and he shook his head. ‘I remember how it was, Alyse. I know my parents can be very...persuasive. And, as the media attention grew, it might have seemed like you were caught in a whirlwind you couldn’t control.’
‘It did feel like that sometimes,’ she allowed. ‘At times it was utterly overwhelming. But I knew what I was doing, Leo.’ More or less. ‘I might have only been eighteen, but I knew my own mind.’ And her own heart. Not that she would ever tell him that. After Leo’s revelations about how he didn’t even believe in love, never mind actually having ever felt it, Alyse had no intention of baring her heart. Not now, and perhaps not ever.
She forced the thought away. This is a beginning.
‘Still...’ he began, and she thought how easy it would be, to let him believe she’d been railroaded into this marriage. And there was some truth in it, after all. The media attention had been out of control, and in those dark moments when she’d considered breaking their engagement she’d known she didn’t possess the strength to go against everything and everyone—the monarchy, the media, the adoring public. It had simply been too much.
But it wasn’t the whole truth and, while it might satisfy Leo as to why she’d agreed in the first place—a question she hadn’t been willing to answer last night—she wouldn’t perpetuate another lie.
But neither will you tell him the real reason—that you were in love with him, and still are.
With determined flippancy she adjusted her mask and put her hands on her hips. ‘How do I look? I don’t think anyone can be taken seriously in flippers.’
His expression lightened into a smile, and Alyse felt a rush of relief. Now she was the one avoiding conversation. Honesty.
‘Probably not,’ he agreed and held out one of his own flippered feet. ‘But they do the job. Are you ready?’
She nodded and a moment later they were slipping over the side of the boat. When Leo put his hands on her bared waist to steady her as she slid into the water, Alyse felt her heart rate rocket. Just the touch of his hands on her flesh sent an ache of longing through her. She wanted to turn to him, to rip off their masks and stupid fins and forget anything but this need that had been building in her for so long, the need she longed to be sated. She wanted to be his lover as well as his friend.
Then he let go of her and with a splash she landed and kicked away from the boat, Leo swimming next to her.
As soon as she put her face in the sea the world seemed to open up, the ocean floor with its twists and curves of coral stretching away endlessly in every direction. Fish of every colour and size darted among the coral: schools of black-and-yellow-striped fish, one large blue fish swimming on its