Page 73 of Stranded with His Runaway Bride

She lifted up to look into his face. ‘You’re not about to tell me she sacrificed herself and died a horrible death, are you? Because that’s not the kind of story a bride wants to hear on her wedding night.’

‘No.’ His hand cupped the back of her head and drew her closer for a kiss. ‘Nothing like that.’ He waited until she’d settled her chin propped on his hand, which lay on his chest. ‘She didn’t just save Grimentz through moral duty. She gave herself to the prince for love.’

Violetta’s eyes grew wide. ‘For love? I like her even more now.’

‘Thought you might. The story goes that they met at her father’s court months before the siege, and though he was guarded and gruff she saw through that, to the man he was beneath his wounds. Beyond his pain.’ Leo’s hand slid to cup Violetta’s cheek. ‘She fell in love with him. That’s why she married him, not just to save Grimentz, but because she wanted to spend her life with him.’

He paused but Violetta waited patiently. Giving him the time he needed to voice something that would have been unimaginable to him even a few hours ago.

‘It was this photo of us from tonight,’ he said eventually. ‘The way you’re looking at me. I saw it. The love in your eyes. I understand now. You love me, like Elisabetha loved her prince.’

Violetta’s eyes glittered with moisture as she turned to place a kiss in his palm. ‘Always, Leo. Always and for ever.’

He rolled her onto her back. ‘Always,’ he echoed, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. ‘Always and for ever, my love.’

EPILOGUE

LEOWASTHElast to retire, putting off the lights in the kitchens as he went.

He passed the dining room, where the table was already laid with crisp linens. Crystal champagne flutes sparkled amongst all the evergreens and icy-white baubles that Francesca and Luisa had spent the afternoon gathering and arranging in displays along its centre.

Tomorrow they’d have a lavish Christmas Day dinner, with everyone dressed to the nines. But tonight his guests had shared an informal and often raucous meal, gathered round the oak table in the kitchen. The servants had been given time off to celebrate with their own families and Violetta and Matteo had stepped in as cooks, serving up home-made pasta with Grand-Mère’s famous pomodoro sauce, followed by tiramisu from Matteo’s closely guarded recipe.

The kitchen had echoed to the laughter and teasing of his oddball gathered family. Leo had sat at the head of the table, surveying the scene in some wonder.

Previously estranged sisters, a former fiancée and the man she’d jilted Leo for.

Max was there, with his new fiancé. A wildly handsome major from the Grimentzian Guards who’d seen something lovable in the previously unlovable Max and helped him reveal it to the rest of the family.

Believing he might now be freed of the terrifying responsibility of being the sole heir, Max had abandoned his dissolute lifestyle. His major had encouraged him to face his demons and find a new purpose in life.

Leo knew they’d never be close as he and Seb were, but Max was still family and Violetta had taught him how important it was to cherish those bonds. He’d witnessed how she’d pulled her sister close and how much that relationship meant to her now.

So Leo had made the first move by asking his cousin if he could take on the patronage of a new charity that helped young people with mental health issues and Max had actually agreed.

Inviting him to spend Christmas here at the chateau had also felt right and seeing him that evening talking with Seb, almost like the brothers they were, had pleased Leo beyond all measure.

Earlier that day the brothers, the major and Francesca’s husband had been tasked by Violetta with dressing the enormous tree that occupied a corner of the hallway.

The men had discharged their duties with gusto. Hardly an inch was bare of decoration. Grand-Mère would have loved how ostentatious it was.

She would have loved even more how Leo had gathered his new family around him for Christmas.

You were happy here once, she’d written.You could be again.

She was right. He was...almost. Something niggled at him. Something about Violetta this evening that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Because his happiness was, of course, inextricably linked with hers.

A toy tractor dangled from a branch just above his head. Violetta’s little nephew had been transfixed by it. Importuning ‘Unca Lo’ again and again to lift him up on his shoulders so he could inspect it more closely.

Leo wondered when he might do the same with a son—or daughter—of his own. He knew he just needed to be patient. He and Violetta would have children in time. They certainly weren’t childless for want of trying.

His sigh was answered by the tap of four paws trotting close and a wet snout shoved into his hand.

Leo fussed at soft ears then crossed the hallway to climb the stairs to join his wife in their bedroom.

The hound had joined the family some months back. Carrying on Grand-Mère’s tradition, he was a rescue dog.

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