Faith. But not blind this time-because she could read in his eyes the only thing she wanted from Xaviero. The only thing she had ever really wanted from him. Just love.
Her smile was tremulous but she was having to blink back the sudden onset of tears. The first time she had ever tasted the tears of joy.
'I believe you and I love you,' she said softly, and then her head fell to his shoulder and she began to cry.
EPILOGUE
THEY honeymooned in South America, where the lush green foothills of the Andes took Cathy's breath away. On a sleek white yacht which drifted from island to stunning island off the coast of Brazil, they basked in the sun and sipped caipirinhas as potent as they were delicious. And once, in glorious anonymity, they daringly tangoed on the streets of Buenos Aires, while their security mingled with the crowd, having nightmares.
Then they criss-crossed across vast sweeps of land to track down some of the very finest horses in the world. Cathy had decided that if she was going to live a fulfilled married life with her darling Xaviero-then she wanted to learn all about his passion.
Just as he wanted to learn about hers. For when they returned from their six-month idyll to England, it was to find the hotel transformed into a beautiful home-exquisite in every way except for one thing.
'They haven't touched the gardens!' said Cathy as she stared in dismay at weeds which had encroached even further onto the neglected flowerbeds.
'That's because I want you to redesign them,' said Xaviero softly.
'Me?'
'Absolutely you.'
'But I don't have any formal training,' Cathy protested.
His fingers tangled themselves in the golden silk of her hair. 'Maybe not-but you have a natural instinct and an eye for beauty which no amount of teaching could provide.' Briefly he touched his lips to hers. 'I want my polo school to offer scholarships to talented youngsters from all backgrounds, all over the world, Cathy. But I want more than to make them talented riders. I want to bring them here, where they can experience the kind of calm which you weave around you wherever you go. So create a beautiful oasis of a garden, my love,' he urged softly. 'A place where people can come and be at home with their senses.'
Cathy swallowed, dizzy with the sense of joy his words always provoked-words which pierced her heart with their beauty. Because with Xaviero's declaration of love for her, it seemed that a true poet had been liberated.
Even her projected scenario of the press mocking a chambermaid princess hadn't materialised. It seemed that she had struck some kind of chord and the world was delighted with the marriage. And despite her turning down countless interviews, there were abundant articles on what the magazines were calling 'The Cinderella Syndrome'. Cathy didn't mind a bit. She wanted all women to realise that anything was achievable. That it didn't matter who you were or where you came from-that love truly could conquer all.
From his new hotel in the south of France, Rupert had written a sycophantic letter offering them free use of the honeymoon suite-and Xaviero had given a shout of laughter as he'd hurled it straight into the bin.
Even Peter, now married and with his own little parish somewhere along the east coast of Scotland, had written offering his tentative congratulations and had mentioned that his church was badly in need of a replacement roof. And Cathy, feeling expansive, had sent him a cheque to pay for it and wished him every happiness in his new life.
Back on Zaffirinthos Casimiro was fully recovered and back at the helm, though seeing his brother's obvious joy had made him seem a little wistful.
'Perhaps he needs a Queen,' said Cathy hopefully and Xaviero laughed.
'You want the whole world to feel like we do, is that it, mia tesoro?'
She rose up on tiptoe and brushed her lips over his. 'Mmm. You think that's possible?'
'No,' he answered thickly, before pulling her closer. 'I don't. I think what we have is unique.'
And of course, it was. No two people were the same as them, nor ever would be. But to Cathy, Xaviero was not a prince or a world-class polo player or next in line to an island kingdom. He never had been. He was simply her man-her gorgeous golden-eyed man-and she loved him with every fibre of her being.