How to Love a Princess (24 page)

“Ophella does.” She lifted
her chin as he came to a halt before her. “As do I. The vote isn’t guaranteed,
of course, but I’m asking you to take that risk. For us.”

“Risk?” He perched down on
his stool again. “What risk?”

Catherine shrugged
awkwardly. She knew how much she was asking. “The risk of rejection.”

A scowl blackened his
face. “A negative vote is the last thing I’m worried about. I wouldn’t consider
it a rejection either way. I want to be your husband, Catherine, not king to
your queen.”

“You can be both.”

Nicolas scrubbed his jaw.
“Why? Why is this so important?”

“I don’t want any barriers
between us, Nicolas.”

“There won’t be,” he
assured her. “You may be queen one day, but our love will always equalise us.”

“I know that now.” But
there was more. “I don’t want to stand alone. I don’t want to be strong on my
own.”

“You’ll never be on your
own again. You can lean on me, trust in me, confide in me. I’ll always have
ready advice for you to take or ignore.”

Catherine sighed. “The
next time I call the queen’s guard on you, I’d like to know that you’ll counter
it by calling the king’s guard on me. Is it so very hard to understand?”

“No, it isn’t.” Nicolas
shuffled his stool closer to her and lifted her hands into his. “This isn’t
what I expected, or wanted. I have my research to consider.”

Once, he’d professed he’d
give up a kingdom for her. Instead, she was asking him to take one on. He
didn’t want this, didn’t see the need or reason and doubted he’d make much of a
king, but his mind and heart had never wavered. He’d do whatever their love
demanded of him. “I needn’t stop my work. There’ll be less time, sure, but then
there would be anyway with a wife and children to consider.”

“So, you’ll give Ophella a
king?”

His fingers folded around
hers, lightly at first, then binding urgently to match the intensity in his
eyes. “I love you, Catherine. I will always give you everything that is within
my power. If and when the time comes, we’ll let Ophella decide.”

“My mother wants to
abdicate,” she told him.

Nicolas frowned. “Her
health hasn’t deteriorated while I was away, has it?”

“She’s stronger every
day,” Catherine assured him. “But her illness has left its mark and I agree
with her reasons. She needs extended rest and since I’ve being performing her
duties for these past months, she feels that the transition has already taken
place smoothly and this is the best course for stability.”

“She will need rest,”
Nicolas agreed and then realised exactly what she was saying.

His expression must have
betrayed him, for Catherine gave a small laugh.

“You won’t regret it,”
Catherine reassured Nicolas. “This will not interfere with your research, I
promise.”

He held up his hand. “I
hope it does.” And then his frown disappeared with the return of his grin and
he pulled her off her stool and onto his lap. “Now, about those children. How
many did you have in mind?”

Epilogue

O
ver a
thousand candles lit the small chapel for Ophella’s state wedding. The chapel
had been part of the original castle, surviving from the fifteenth century and
had witnessed all the royal marriages. Due to its size, only family and close
friends shared in the solemn vows spoken within but, as Catherine and Nicolas
followed the trail of long stemmed roses strewn between the aisles to the
outside, the population of Ophella waited to greet them.

When they made their
appearance beneath the narrow stone porte-cochere bounded by roman style
columns, the unanimous cheer roared like thunder shaking the earth. Holding
onto Catherine’s hand, Nicolas pulled her into his side, forcing their arms
behind and out of sight of the people of Ophella. Catherine’s people. His
people.

“Our people,” he said
softly as they looked out at the festive crowd. When he glanced down on his
wife’s profile, he was inordinately pleased that he’d insisted on a full
month’s honeymoon before the queen officially abdicated. Before Catherine was
crowned. Before he was crowned as king at her side. Since Ophella had voted in
favour of accepting him as their king, he’d grown accustomed to the idea, grown
attached to the people who would be part of his extended family. But for now,
he wanted Catherine to himself. For a little while longer, he intended to be
ruthlessly selfish with their time and their love.

“I think it’s time to kiss
the bride,” Nicolas said, his touch gentle as he lifted her chin to him.

“Haven’t we already done
that?” But her lids were already closing, her blood warming, her lips parting
slightly for her husband’s kiss that was frustratingly light, even as he
lingered over it.

When he pulled back to
look into her languid gaze, his grin was lopsided. “Hold that thought.”