AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘I thought I should pop in.’ Margaret darted a quick glance around the room. ‘I’m not intruding, am I?’
‘Not at all—I’m alone. Please come in! It’s good of you to spare the time when I know you must be busy.’
‘Nonsense,’ Margaret declared. ‘Who’s busier than the bride? All I need to do is to put on a dab of lipstick and a suit that isn’t tweed, and I’m done. I was wondering if you’d got something old to wear,’ Margaret continued on as she shrugged off her sensible mac and cast it aside on a chair. ‘You know the old saying, Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue— Ah, I see you have that.’ Margaret’s shrewd eyes twinkled as she surveyed the dress and the garter hanging around the neck of the padded hanger. ‘The dress is new, the garter is blue, and I’ve brought my tiny beaded reticule for you to borrow for the reception, and I’ve brought something that belonged to my mother for you—a small gift from me to wish you well. They can be your something old,’ she said.
‘I can’t possibly accept a gift like this,’ Rosie breathed as Margaret showed her the small pearl stud earrings. They were the perfect finishing touch for the dress, but she was overwhelmed by the gift, by the thought, and by the kindness behind it.
‘Of course you can accept them,’ Margaret insisted with a warm smile as she closed Rosie’s hand around her present. ‘Now, come on,’ she chivvied. ‘We don’t want to be anything more than fashionably late. We’ll have breakfast together, and then I’ll help you to dress.’
* * *
The moment Rosie saw the cathedral with its tall spires and intricate carvings she made a promise to make her vows sincerely. Whatever her situation, she would show respect for the church, and for everyone who had entered the same portals with their hearts full of emotion. As she stepped out of the limousine she reminded herself that she’d always been resilient. She would go through with this, and she would make it work. Margaret was waiting to organise the billowing silk chiffon train, with its liberal scattering of diamanté and seed pearls. The dress was so beautiful that the assembled onlookers gasped when they caught their first sight of it.
Lifting her chin, Rosie mounted the steps slowly and alone. She had explained to Margaret that she wanted to do this, as this was her journey, and her decision, and she was determined that she wouldn’t fail in any part of it. Margaret didn’t know the whole story; she’d never asked, but she respected Rosie’s decision. Having given the organist the prearranged signal when the bride arrived, Margaret followed Rosie into the church.
As the crashing chords of the organ rang out, the voices of the choir soared in a triumphal anthem. Was all this for her? For a split second, Rosie couldn’t move. Her feet simply refused to obey her brain’s instructions, and her throat was so very tight, she doubted she’d be able to say her vows. The cathedral was packed. There didn’t seem to be a single free seat. The scent of incense was so heavy she could hardly breathe. She looked for Xavier, but it was like looking down the wrong end of a telescope, and she had a legion of curious guests to walk through before she could reach his side. Then he turned and his dark stare blazed into hers. An unbreakable bond seemed to connect them, drawing her towards him, and now she noticed the roses: Arctic roses, the same roses that grew so bravely in the garden at the hacienda.
She took the flowers as a signal. Even if they were just coincidence, rather than a loving gesture from Xavier, his promise to make this a happy and special day looked as if it might come true.
The roses kept her on track. She thought of them as emergency lights in the cabin of a jet, leading her towards him, and almost laughed at the thought. She quickly governed her face in front of the dignitaries present. She didn’t want them thinking she was nervous, or over-faced by the occasion. It was a relief to reach Xavier’s side. He looked stunning, every bit the Spanish Grandee. She responded to him with yearning as she came to a halt at his side. She sucked in a shaking breath as he lifted her veil, and was surprised by the warmth in his eyes. He was thanking her, she told herself sensibly. He was probably relieved she’d turned up.
* * *
‘And now you may kiss the bride...’
Is it really over?
Up to that point, everything had been dreamy and virginal, white, but now the world shot into vivid colour. Xavier’s blood-red sash of office, which he wore over his dark, formal suit, made Rosie remember their wedding night. The voices of the choir soared even higher in celebration as Xavier dipped his head to chastely kiss her on both cheeks. She closed her eyes, but all she could think about was what lay ahead of her when they were finally alone. But she smiled when she looked at the wedding ring on her finger.
‘Do you like it?’ Xavier asked.
‘I love it,’ she said honestly. ‘It’s the perfect ring for me.’ It was a plain band, with no stones or ornamentation. If they’d been a proper couple and had gone shopping for rings together, she couldn’t have found anything to please her more.
‘It’s time, Rosie,’ Xavier prompted.
She turned with him to face the congregation, and, linking her arm through his, she allowed Xavier to lead her forward to greet the world as his wife.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE RECEPTION SEEMED ENDLESS. Rosie ate little and tried not to think too much, while the hours passed in a haze of good wishes and congratulations. She was only just coming to terms with the yawning gap between an idea and an accomplished fact. Her throat tightened as she gazed at Xavier. His expression was governed for the public and it was impossible to read his thoughts. An encouraging smile from Margaret put her back on track. She was no longer the bemused orphan, revelling in the simple pleasures of freedom on a beautiful island, but a wife and property owner, with huge responsibilities. She had married a Spanish Grandee, who had centuries of tradition behind him, but as well as all her duties she had to be true to herself.
When the Master of Ceremonies indicated that the guests must be silent and Xavier rose to his feet to speak she knew the end of the celebration was in sight. Xavier was as commanding as ever, and she was pleased that he remembered to acknowledge his debt to Doña Anna.
‘For bringing me a wife,’ he said, turning to look at Rosie. That look sent sparks flying through her. ‘And now you must excuse us,’ he added when the applause had died down. ‘My bride and I are leaving.’
Her stomach flipped when he turned to look at her again. She only wished she could thrill as she had the first time, but now she was facing the thought of being alone with him, and that meant confronting the greatest demon of all: her fear that sex brought pain, and disaster followed. That was the legend in the orphanage, and she’d seen nothing since then to change her mind.
‘We have an appointment with the tide,’ Xavier explained genially to their guests. He reached out a hand to help her from her chair. ‘And the tide waits for no man,’ he added in an intimate murmur, staring deep into her eyes.
‘Not even you?’ she challenged, demanding a last burst of energy from the spirit that had kept her going throughout the day.
‘Not even me,’ he confirmed in the same low, husky whisper. ‘Please stay for as long as you like,’ he added to their guests. ‘There will be fireworks at midnight.’
Maybe even before that, Rosie thought dryly, recognising impending hysteria when it came knocking.
Xavier took hold of her hand in a firm grip, flashing awareness through her veins as he led her from the table.
‘What about my things?’ she said, pulling back. Everything she owned was still at the hotel.
