climbed up and sat beside her.
Eleni handed up Michales.
This had been a crazy day. She was about as far from her comfort zone as she’d ever want to be. But this… this was just plain fantasy. This was every girl’s dream—being whisked off in a golden coach with Prince Charming.
In the fairy tales she’d read, babies weren’t included. But Michales definitely was.
So… Her Prince Charming was sitting beside her. He looked absurdly handsome—regal and tasselled and armed with sword and all the things a Prince Of The Blood should be.
She probably even looked like a princess, she conceded. All white satin and lace and exquisite beading—and there were diamonds in her tiara, for heaven’s sake.
There were four white horses in their traces, heads held high, shiny, sleek, gold harnesses, bits and assorted leather stuff. They had gold and white attachments and white-feathered headdresses—did horses wear headdresses? These ones did, she decided. They looked fabulous.
Even the coachman looked amazing. His uniform was almost as ornate as Alex’s—only he was wearing a top hat.
There were sixteen more horsemen, eight in front and eight behind. Horseguards?
Was one of them carrying a diaper bag? She daren’t ask. She hoped someone had thought of it, but the royal princess standing up and asking for diapers… maybe not.
The desire to giggle grew even stronger.
Michales jiggled on her knee. She hugged him. He crowed with delight and squirmed and tried to reach her tiara.
It was too much. She burst out laughing and Alex stared at her as if she’d entirely lost it.
‘What the… ?’
‘Cinderella and Prince Charming—and Baby,’ she told him, and grinned and lifted the unprotesting Michales across to his father’s knee. ‘Here. You hold him. He’s not very good with travelling.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I suspect you might find out for yourself,’ she said and chuckled again at the expression on his face. Then, as it seemed to be expected of her—she’d seen the odd royal wedding on the telly—she turned and smiled broadly at the crowd. She waved!
If he could be a prince, she could be a princess.
‘I might find out what for myself?’ he said cautiously.
‘You’ll know it when it happens,’ she said sagely. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be waving?’
‘I appear to be needing to hang on.’
‘That’s all right,’ she said magnanimously. ‘You hold on and I’ll wave for the two of us.’
This was dumb but she couldn’t stop grinning. She was so far out of her comfort zone that she ought to be a quivering wreck. But she’d just got through a royal wedding and she hadn’t fallen over once. As far as she knew, she hadn’t said anything stupid.
She was married.
This was no real marriage, she told herself. She surely intended staying… well, not married in the true sense of the word. But she was married and she wasn’t afraid of Alex. She didn’t trust him, but then maybe she didn’t have to trust. This was a business arrangement. If she could just keep her cool, keep her independence, maybe she could even enjoy this—just a bit.
Maybe that was hysteria speaking.
Just wave to the crowds, pin your smile in place and try not to think of the man sitting beside you with your baby on his lap, she told herself.
Her baby’s father.
Her… husband.
This was crazy. He didn’t belong here.
Hell, he had to do this. The islanders needed him to be Crown Prince but every nerve in his body was screaming at him to get out of here, get back to Manhattan, go into his office, slam the door on the outside world and design a garden or six.
For the last ten years garden design had been his life. As a child, his only friends had been the palace servants. An old gardener had taken him under his wing, and the palace garden had become an enormous pleasure.
When his mother had been permitted to return to the island they’d designed a garden, and the two years they had together had seen it become a wondrous living thing.
Then, when he’d joined the army to finally get away from his uncle, to achieve financial independence, he’d kept on designing. He’d sent in an entry to an international competition.
That entry had changed his life.
This wasn’t his life, he told himself savagely. It was the last lingering trace of Giorgos’s reign. Lily was sister to the last Queen. This woman sitting beside him, waving to the crowd, her smile wide and genuine, was a fairy tale princess. Like Mia, she was playing a part. In time she could move on.
Whereas he… he was stuck with reality.
In the shape of his son?
It wasn’t just that, though the sensation of a small robust person sitting on his knee was certainly unnerving. It was the whole set-up.
As an idealistic youngster he’d dreamed of ruling this country, of being able to do what he had to do to make the island prosper. He’d dreamed of being given the authority to do it.
He’d never dreamed of this. He was in a fairy tale coach with a fairy tale wife and a tiny son.
She was looking as if she enjoyed it.
Maybe she was better at pretending than he was.
This was so… fake. The only problem was, though, that when he woke in the morning it would be worse. There were so many problems. He’d take a couple of days out of the frame here to get this marriage thing settled and over, but he had to get back. Two or three days’ honeymoon…
It wasn’t really a honeymoon.
Lily was waving at the crowd as if she meant it. She was enjoying herself?
Maybe he could use this to his advantage, he thought suddenly. If she was to be accepted by the islanders… she could stay here and play princess. He could still make the important decisions but it might give him time to escape to his other life. The garden designs he loved.
It was worth a thought. Lily as a figurehead.
Maybe… maybe…
Maybe this was too soon to tell. There was no way he was going to trust her.
She was doing okay now. Better than he was.
She was better at pretending. Better at… deceiving?
He looked out over the crowd of onlookers. There were those in the crowd who wished him ill. There were those who wanted this fledgling principality to fail so they could gather the remains.
He had to do this. He had no choice.
His bride was by his side and she was waving. It seemed he was part of a royal family, even if that family was as fractured as his family always had been.
He waved.
‘My smile hurts,’ Lily whispered.
‘My face aches,’ he confessed.
‘Really?’ She swivelled to stare. ‘But you’re used to this.’
‘I’m a landscape architect. Not a prince.’ He shook his head. ‘No. This is what I wanted. It just feels too ridiculous for words.’
‘Just smile and wave,’ she said wisely. ‘It doesn’t matter if no one’s at home.’
‘If no one’s at home… ’
‘Anyone can be royal. Plan your gardens in your head while