The Prince's Chambermaid(23)

'I … suppose so.' She wanted him to tell her not to worry, that it was all  going to be okay-especially today, of all days. She wanted to feel part  of everything-but most of all she wanted to feel part of him in the way  that all new brides were supposed to. Her fingers dug into the tight  white roses of her bouquet. 'But I'd prefer to think about happier  matters on my wedding day.'

He looked down at her. With her pale hair caught up in a sophisticated  chignon and threaded with glittering jewels, she looked incandescent.  Already, the image of the simple little chambermaid she had once been  was fading-though her naïve statement reminded him that, essentially,  she was the same woman underneath. 'Yes, of course you do. So come on.  Big smile-and then let's go and say hello to the staff.'                       
       
           



       

All the palace personnel were lined up along the marble steps to greet  the newlyweds and Cathy was grateful that Flavia had told her to stop  and chat only every few places-otherwise they would have been there all  day. But she saw a couple of crestfallen faces from the younger maids  she didn't actually get to speak to-and she determined to make their  acquaintance on another occasion. Because hadn't she been there, where  they were-a small, anonymous face looking out at all the splendour as  the moneyed people went by?

Suddenly, Cathy felt a pang for the old life-the life she had left  behind. One where feelings were allowed precedence over rules, and where  it would have been perfectly acceptable for a new bride to fling her  arm around her husband's neck and to kiss him.

The wedding breakfast was held in what she had learned was the smallest  and most intimate of the three dining halls-though intimacy was not a  word which married well with such a room. How could it when every piece  of cutlery they used was made of solid gold and studded with rubies?  Even the crystal glass containing priceless wine was so heavy that she  needed to use two hands to pick it up.

And Cathy suddenly realised that she had nothing to say! Not unless she  started advising the noble assembly how to make a bed-or the best way to  fold sheets-and Flavia had tacitly advised her not to dwell on her  former life. Her words and her thoughts seemed to have dried up, leaving  her feeling empty. Not that anyone seemed to mind. It was clearly  Xaviero who was of prime importance. Xaviero whose jokes they laughed at  and Xaviero whose observations were met with nodding interest.

Cathy sat listening, absorbing everything she heard-trying to learn as  much about her new royal life as she could. But the meal seemed to drag  on and on-course after course of it-all amazing little delicacies, most  of which she'd never tasted before and were much too rich to lay  comfortably in a stomach already churned up with nerves. Especially when  all she really wanted was for Xaviero to take her in his arms and to  kiss away all her fears and insecurity.

Yet despite the fact that they were newly wed, they were still  surrounded by onlookers and protocol. She tried sending him looks of  appeal across the glittering table-and was it her imagination, or did he  simply ignore her silent entreaty?

By the time the meal was finished she was a mass of insecurity, but  consoled herself with the sight of her new husband as he stood up. In  his dark naval uniform awash with medals as golden as his eyes, he  looked so tall and so handsome. And in that moment Cathy simply felt an  immense and quiet pride that she had married such a man.

It didn't matter what had gone before-it was the now which mattered, and  soon she would be locked in his arms again. Her bare skin would be  close to his in a way she had hardly dared remember, for fear that it  would never happen again. But tonight it most definitely would. Hadn't  they always been magic in bed together-and wouldn't her pleasure only be  enhanced by knowing that she was now legally his wife? She could show  him love in the privacy of their bedchamber and Xaviero would learn to  accept it-maybe even one day to return it.

Slanting him a demure smile, she rose to her feet-smoothing down the  silk chiffon of her wedding dress and imagining him peeling it from her  body very soon.

He walked over to her side and offered her his arm as he took her over  to the window, for he had not been oblivious to her pale fidgeting  throughout the meal. 'You seem a little distracted, Catherine,' he  murmured.

Unseeingly, she gazed out at the perfectly manicured palace gardens and  told herself not to react. If Catherine he wanted her to be-then  Catherine she would be. Hadn't she learnt her lesson over that  particular quibble?

'Do I? Well, it's been a pretty overwhelming experience,' she answered  truthfully, and then lowered her voice so that only he could hear her  next remark-because surely a new bride was allowed a little coquetry  with her husband, no matter how exalted his position. 'And I just can't  wait to be alone with you.'

'Neither can I.' He didn't miss a beat as he saw her lips part. 'But you must be patient for a little longer.'

'P-patient?' She turned her eyes up to him in bewilderment. 'You mean there is some other sort of c-celebration we must attend?'

'Hardly a celebration,' said Xaviero, his voice hardening. 'Now that you  are my wife, protocol demands that you must meet my brother, the King.  When the meal is ended, we will be driven to the hospital.'

'Y-your brother? But … '
                       
       
           



       
He raised his dark brows. 'But what?'

'Your brother's in a coma, Xaviero.' Tiredly, she shrugged her  shoulders-aware of the weight of the pearlencrusted bodice and the tiara  still in her hair. 'Does it … does it have to be today?'

'You mean, he won't know or won't care when I introduce him to my new bride-that we could wait a year and he wouldn't notice?'

Hearing the condemnation in his voice, she lowered her own. 'I didn't  mean that at all. It's just that you look exhausted-it's obvious you've  been under a lot of strain since you came back and took over. Would it  be so very wrong if we spent a little time on our own tonight-and went  to see Casimiro tomorrow?'

Didn't the guilt which was churning inside him make him want to lash  out? 'Is it too much to ask,' he questioned, in a voice of silken  danger, 'that you wait a little longer to satisfy your sexual appetite?'

She wanted to gasp out her outrage, to vehemently deny his softly  uttered accusation-but, of course, she could not. Not when there were  the island's most important dignitaries on the other side of the room,  no doubt trying to ignore the fact that the newlyweds seemed to be  having some kind of disagreement.

'I wouldn't have put it quite like that,' she said, her calm voice  belying the painful scudding of her heart. 'And you know I'm longing to  meet your brother.'

'Then why make all this fuss?' he questioned softly.

Somehow he had managed to twist her words and leave her feeling  inadequate-as if she had failed him on every level. The first test of  royal life, and she had somehow flunked it.

Pausing only to change from her wedding gown into something more  suitable for hospital visiting, Cathy joined Xaviero in the back of the  limousine for a tense journey across the city as she nervously twisted  the new gold wedding band round and round on her finger.

But all her own insecurities were banished when they were ushered into  the intensive-care room at the top of the high-tech building, to a room  dominated by a white bed which for one awful moment almost resembled a  bier. Her fingers flew to her lips and she bit back a little cry of  distress.

For there lay the King. His eyes were closed and his muscles wasted  through inactivity-but he was still recognisably a formidable figure  with the same high slash of autocratic cheekbones as his brother. At  well over six feet, he seemed to dwarf the narrow bed on which he lay  and the deep, hoarse sound of his breathing echoed heartbreakingly  through the room. Cathy looked at all the medical paraphernalia of tubes  and resuscitation equipment which surrounded him and had never felt so  helpless in her life. That a fine, fit young man could be struck down  like this …

And then she glanced over at Xaviero, and as his tortured features burnt  themselves into her vision her heart clenched. He looked haunted, she  thought guiltily. No wonder he had been so tetchy and so ill at ease  with her. How must it feel for him to see his brother lying there like  that and to be unable to do anything to help him, for all his power and  his position? And there she had been-petulant about a name-change and  because she'd barely had any time alone with him. A shudder racked her  slender frame and for a moment their eyes met in a shared moment of  silent pain.

'Casimiro,' said Xaviero heavily. 'I would like you to meet my wife.'