CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      THEY WERE MARRIED two days later in the largest cathedral in Santo Sierra. Church bells tolled at the strike of midday and white doves were released in commemoration of the historic event. Quite how the palace staff had managed to gather and accommodate world leaders and royalty in such a short space of time would’ve blown Jasmine’s mind, had she not been in a continued state of numb shock.

      Stephen and her mother had flown in this morning on Reyes’s jet, and, although Jasmine had had a hard time managing her mother’s questions and tearful exclamations of how beautiful Jasmine looked, she was thankful for their presence. They were literally two familiar faces in a multitude of strangers.

      Her mother was riding in the second car with Isabella, while Jasmine rode to the cathedral in the back of a Rolls-Royce Phantom. Beside her, Stephen enumerated the many luxuries of the car. Jasmine nodded absently, too preoccupied with not throwing up over her astonishingly beautiful gown to answer.

      All too soon, they arrived at the church. A dozen ten-year-old pageboys lined either side of the royal-blue carpet that led to the aisle, each one holding up a jewelled-hilted sword that signified the twelve generations since Reyes’s ancestors had ruled Santo Sierra.

      Jasmine gripped Stephen’s arm as her stepfather led her down the aisle. She tried to pin a smile on her face as the sea of faces on either side of the aisle gawped at her with unbridled curiosity.

      The surprise wedding and unconfirmed reports of a possible pregnancy had sent the world’s media wild. The press office’s no comment on the subject had been taken as tacit confirmation.

      ‘Almost there, my darling,’ Stephen murmured. His reassurance calmed her nerves, helping her to focus on her destination.

      The top of the aisle, where Reyes waited. She couldn’t see his face clearly through her lace veil, but his imposing figure was hard to miss. Dressed in formal military regalia complete with shoulder tassels, sash and sword, he looked more dashing than any man had the right to look.

      The butterflies in her stomach multiplied.

      Since their night at the wedding-cake house, she’d seen him for less than a handful of minutes. Each time, he’d been reserved to the point of being curt. At their last meeting, he’d presented her with an engagement ring belonging to his grandmother. The stunning baguette diamond ring she now wore on her right hand, according to protocol, was flanked by two further teardrop diamonds and completed in a platinum band.

      Reyes had stopped only to ask whether she liked it before, after her startled nod, he’d walked away.

      She couldn’t help but think that her probing questions about love had twigged him to her feelings for him. Feelings he didn’t welcome.

      All through the many fittings and wedding protocol, she hadn’t been able to dismiss the knowledge that Reyes would never love her, no matter how much she tried. Again and again she recalled the look on his face when she’d blurted out that damning statement on the plane. A statement he hadn’t so far denied.

      Stephen eased her hand from his arm, and she realised they’d reached the steps of the altar. Eyes damp, her stepfather gazed down at her. ‘I’m so proud of, my dear. So very proud,’ he murmured. ‘You’re the daughter I wished for, and I hope you’ll forgive me for not always being the father I could’ve been.’

      She knew he was referring to the business with Joaquin.

      Her throat clogged and she blinked back her own tears. ‘There’s nothing to forgive. Absolutely nothing,’ she whispered back.

      His own eyes brimming with tears, Stephen placed her hand on the gloved hand Reyes held out.

      She searched Reyes’s face, and her heart dropped. Nothing in his demeanour showed he was happy to be here. He flinched when a muted roar sounded from outside where the crowd was watching the ceremony on giant screens.

      Intent on discovering a hint of emotion that would abate the fear beating beneath her breast, she stepped closer to him.

      A discreet cough sounded half a step behind her. She turned to find a teenage usher holding out a polished silver tray. Flustered, Jasmine placed her bouquet on it, and tried to ignore the hushed murmuring behind her.

      Reyes squeezed her hand. Heart lifting, she glanced at him. But he was staring straight ahead, his chiselled profile holding no signs of tenderness.

      They exchanged vows in Spanish and English, with the sermon and following register signing also conducted in both languages.

      When the priest urged Reyes to kiss his bride, his lips barely warmed hers for a moment before he stepped back.

      Through it all, Jasmine smiled, and felt her heart break into tiny pieces. She’d fallen in love with a man who she had a soul-deep suspicion would never love her back.

      A cheer from the thousands of subjects lining the streets roused Jasmine from her dazed state. Her hand tightened on Reyes’s arm as he helped her into the gilt-framed glass carriage.

      ‘Smile, querida. Anyone would think you were attending a funeral, not your own wedding.’

      Plastering a smile on her face, she waved to the crowd. ‘I haven’t seen anything of you in the past two days,’ she muttered from the side of her lips.

      Reyes lifted his hand in acknowledgement of the crowd. ‘And neither will you be seeing me for the coming weeks. I’m going to be very busy. I assume you saw Mendez among the guests?’

      The heart that had squeezed painfully at his first words lurched in anxiety at the reference to Mendez. ‘Yes, I did.’

      ‘I sent the opening salvo yesterday. He’s desperate to recommence talks.’

      She continued to wave as she’d been instructed and glanced at Reyes from the corner of her eye. ‘What about the new council? Will they back you?’

      ‘Yes, I have people in place I trust. I don’t intend to stop until a new treaty is signed.’

      She