Page 7 of Stranded with His Runaway Bride

‘I didn’t. You did.’

When he looked blankly at her she added, ‘The photographs? The ones they sent for your approval. I quote.’ She dropped her voice into a parody of his. ‘“Very nice, although of course she’ll be wearing the Elisabetha tiara.”’

He wasn’t flattered by her impression. He assumed he wasn’t meant to be. His anger spiked.

‘You ran away because you don’t like your dress?’

She shot him an angry look. ‘If I’d been allowed the privilege of wearing a watch, I’d mark the time for posterity. Because that, Your Serene Highness, is the very first time you’ve asked me anything about how I’m feeling about our marriage.’

‘Surely not. We’ve spoken numerous times.’

She gazed steadily at him and gave him the time to mentally run through their half-dozen encounters. All official functions. All surrounded by others. Okay, barely a genuine private moment.

‘You asked me about the duchy’s wine harvest,’ she said. ‘You asked me if I preferred the operas of Beethoven or Mozart.’

‘Mozart.’ He distinctly remembered that.

‘Actually, I loathe opera. My parents were forever dragging me to it. So I lied.’

‘You could have told me the truth.’

‘What was the point? Would anything have made you change your mind about our marriage? Not with the grand duchy at stake.

‘And you never gave the impression you cared either way about me. When you took my hand you could have been picking up a sock you were about to put on. You were that disengaged. It felt like you never really saw me. Do you know how demeaning that is? To be so...so...’ she grappled for the word ‘...inconsequential.’

‘But I remember a number of interesting conversations,’ he said with a placating smile.

‘Oh, yes, our...’ she made quotation marks in the air ‘...“conversations”. The first time we met, you granted me twenty minutes. We walked on the terrace at the castle. You pointed out the architecture and the modifications various forebears had made and those you were planning. Then you told me what would be expected of me as your wife. I forget the details but quiet compliance seemed to be the main requirement. And an heir or two, of course.

‘After that we met ten minutes before appearing in public. Always in Grimentz. I was given details of where to stand, where to sit, when to sit. Definitely never before you were seated. Your staff had already sent over details of whom I might speak to, and what I should say, whom I would not be permitted to speak to. You were very clear on the topics of conversation. The wine harvest and cheese production of the principality. Any charities I was involved with, though nothing controversial, which precluded discussing the teenage mothers I support and get through school. You held my hand only when there were others around to see. By others, I mean other dignitaries or the press, not our own people. You never once called me by my given name or invited me to call you by yours. And after all that, you thought I’d relish the prospect of being married to you and be expected to have...to do...’ she waved a hand through the air ‘...that. Should I go on?’

She made it all sound pretty damning. ‘The walk on the terrace wasn’t the first time we met,’ Leo pointed out, trying to defend the indefensible.

She snorted. ‘You behaved even worse on that holiday we shared here. Because mostly you ignored me. When you did notice me, it was only to chase me with a handful of spiders. And I hate spiders,’ she said, darkly.

He glanced to the shrouded light above her head where several cobwebs hung. She’d fled to the wrong house, then.

‘I was thirteen. Perhaps you could allow I’ve matured since then.’

‘Maturity and charm are not the same thing.’

Ouch.

‘Then I beg your pardon, firstly for chasing you with spiders and latterly for apparently being a dolt of a fiancé.’

Her eyes widened. Perhaps she was not expecting the self-recrimination. But then her face crumpled. ‘And what if we are physically incompatible? What if the sex were terrible? What if I didn’t like it?’ She sounded lost.

‘Then I’d definitely be doing something wrong and I’m not known for that.’

She scowled at him. ‘Of course, you’ve been allowed to have lots of experience. While I’ve had none. How is that fair? I’ve been protected so much I wouldn’t know an erect penis from a bedpost. Not literally, of course. I’ve seen the pictures.’

Pictures? What sort of pictures? Arty ones? Erotic ones? His mind reeled.

‘They didn’t tell me you were so forthright.’

‘I’m not. I’m normally very well behaved and ladylike. You must bring out the worst in me.’

She was pacing and muttering to herself. ‘How did I let this happen? What was I thinking? Oh, and he just had to find me here, didn’t he?’

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