The Spare and the Heir Read online

  “As long as that’s all you’ve been thinking about,” she muttered as a footman helped her into the carriage.

  Gabe didn’t respond as he took his seat next to her. The skirt of her dress wasn’t large enough that he was forced to sit too far from her. Rather than holding her hand like she probably expected, he moved as close as he could and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Leaning slightly across her he waved to the crowd on the other side.

  The cheers increased again.

  The carriage started to move, and he settled in waving to both sides of the street as they turned the corner.

  It took nearly half the ride, but eventually Esmeralda seemed to relax.

  “There are so many people.” This time her voice was still quiet but seemed awed rather than annoyed like when she spoke to him.

  “The Sargassian people adore their Crown Princess.”

  She turned her head quickly enough she almost hit him with her tiara. “They do?”

  “Remember the flowers from the little girl?”

  She nodded.

  Gabe winked at her before leaning in to whisper in her ear, saying what he’d wanted to say for years. “They adore you, love, and I do, too. From here on out, it’s you and me. For the rest of our lives.”

  5

  With a smile pasted on her face, Esme waved to both sides of the carriage. Her heart skittered at Gabriel’s closeness. His ease annoyed her. She could fake it fairly well, but her husband was truly at ease.

  The thought of Gabriel as her husband made Esme queasy. She couldn’t decide if it was a good queasy or not. Probably a little of both.

  Eventually, her heart settled into a more normal rhythm, though still faster than usual. The carriage came to a stop in front of the palace. Gabriel exited first then turned to help her.

  Their families joined them at the top of the dual staircase leading into the outer wall of the palace. Once standing in the center, Gabriel would kiss her.

  The kiss would be photographed, live streamed, and would follow her for the rest of her life.

  Even her parents’ first kiss after their wedding was still shown, and everyone knew how unhappy that marriage was.

  They’d stood in the same spot Esme now reached with Gabriel at her side.

  Gabriel’s arm remained solidly around her waist, tucking her into his side as they waved to the crowds gathered in the park across the drive.

  “I’m not that bad, you know.” His hand squeezed her side as he said it.

  Esme didn’t reply.

  The calls for a kiss grew louder.

  She turned toward him.

  One of his hands framed her face while the other remained anchored to the small of her back.

  His lips brushed against hers, sending emotions she didn’t have any experience with swirling through her. He kissed her again, more firmly this time, but not nearly long enough. As he moved away, she wanted him to stay closer.

  She wanted more.

  A few more minutes waving to the crowd and they turned to go inside, but they wouldn’t walk through the courtyard. Instead, they entered a door in the side of the arched entry. Once out of the eyes of the public, several motorized carts waited to take them through the hallways to the throne room for photos.

  At least she didn’t have to walk the whole way. Her feet would be killing her by the end of the day. The extra steps now wouldn’t bother her too much, but the accumulation over the course of the next seven or more hours would. Her shoulders slumped as she sat in the back seat of the cart. She and Gabriel would ride by themselves while the rest of their families would likely ride in larger groups of three to five.

  “Are you all right?” Gabriel sounded genuinely concerned.

  “Fine.” Esme knew he wouldn’t believe her.

  The cart bumped along stones two hundred or more years old, in hallways clear of the artifacts found in the palace proper. Once they reached it, they’d have to walk.

  They drove down a ramp Esme didn’t remember being on before, but she recognized the first basement of the palace, with its wide-open spaces. They came to a stop near the staircase that would take them to an area just outside the throne room.

  As they walked up them, Gabriel kept his hand on her back and used his other to hold her elbow as she lifted her skirt to keep from tripping. Those watching from the outside would see exactly what they were supposed to see.

  An adoring newlywed couple.

  She knew cameras had been allowed inside the palace. They would follow the guests to the luncheon then later to the ballroom where they would dance the first part of the night away.

  The photos with their families and the small children who’d participated in the wedding took nearly an hour. The ones that wouldn’t be available for public consumption would be taken after the luncheon. They would be for close friends and family and their own personal album and home.

  If Esme ever wanted to put any of them up to be viewed.

  Their official portrait that would eventually be turned into a painting to hang in the hall with the rest of the monarchs’ wedding portraits took the longest of all the pictures. It had to be just right.

  Her mother insisted on a preview on the laptop the photographer had set up, pointing something out in each one until she finally felt they’d achieved the perfect shot.

  Gabriel’s nearness continued to unnerve Esme.

  It would be good, if this was a conventional marriage.

  The way her stomach flipped and her heart rate quickened unnerved her.

  They’d been the first to leave the cathedral but were the last to enter the luncheon. That gave them a moment alone.

  “How are you holding up married to me?” Gabriel stopped in front of a mirror Esme knew was over a hundred years old. He straightened his tie then his vest, though it couldn’t be seen when his jacket was buttoned.

  His eyes met hers in the mirror. “I’ll be happy to help you with that dress later.”

  The tone of his voice wasn’t what Esme would have expected. It sounded like a genuine offer and not the lewd comment she figured would come sooner or later.

  “Judy will help me change before tonight’s dancing.”

  What about his eyes was so mesmerizing? She shouldn’t be attracted to him.

  But she was.

  “Then I’m happy to help you with that dress if you need it.” He winked at her. “But I do believe tradition would dictate I’m the one who gets to help take that one off.”

  Still the tone wasn’t what she expected. Suggestive, yes, but not lewd.

  “I think we’ll have it taken care of.” Esme was afraid of what might happen if she let Gabriel help her undo the buttons on her dress and how long he’d have to be close to her to do that. She nodded toward the banquet hall. “I think they’re waiting for us.”

  Rather than offering her his arm again, Gabriel took her hand, linking their fingers comfortably together. As they entered the banquet hall, the crowd clapped politely.

  As they reached their seats in the center of the head table, the calls for another kiss grew.

  Since this one wasn’t in public, she expected he’d go with just a quick kiss.

  Instead, Gabriel decided that he’d kiss her better.

  A kiss that made her sink into him and curled her toes.

  The cheers from the crowd seeped into her consciousness, and Esme moved away from Gabriel and sank into her chair.

  If she could die of embarrassment, her country would have a new heir.

  * * *

  With his hand splayed against the small of her back, Gabe held his wife close as they danced to a slow song being played by the string quartet. He closed his eyes and wished he’d had the chance to win her over properly. That she’d wanted this wedding as much as he did.

  That in half an hour he’d get to do much more than kiss her.

  After a steadying breath, he reminded himself there was far more to this relationship - to any relationship - than physical
attraction, but relationships weren’t something he had much experience with.

  He needed to rein in his libido and focus on getting to know Esme and letting Esmeralda get to know him.

  “You’re doing a great job pretending to like me,” he told her as he turned them in a circle and headed for the door they were about to leave through. “But you won’t have to pretend much longer. We’ll be alone in a few minutes.”

  She didn’t reply but let him lead and soon they were out the door and in a hallway.

  “I don’t know where I am.”

  Esme stepped away from him. “I do.” She walked down the hall, forcing Gabe to move quickly to keep up.

  “Where are you going?” she called over her shoulder.

  “Since I’m unfamiliar with the building, I’m following my wife to our quarters.”

  She tossed a quick glance over her shoulder. “Go to your own quarters.”

  “I’ve stayed at the resort. I don’t have quarters, though I’m told my things have already been moved to yours.”

  “Then pick another apartment. This place has plenty of them.”

  Gabe caught her by the arm. “That’s not going to work, and you know it.”

  Esmeralda pulled her arm away. “Separate castles. It’s worked for my parents for over two decades.”

  Before Gabe could respond that it hadn’t worked very well, she hurried away.

  He followed her around a corner and into a door on the far side of the hall. As soon as it closed behind him, he knew they were alone.

  She’d gone to stand on the far side, next to the window. Gabe stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders.

  “We’re not your parents, Esme.” He wanted to pull her into his arms but wasn’t sure what she’d think of it.

  As her shoulders slumped, he did it anyway. He slid his hands down her arms and covered her hands with his, pulling her to him as he wrapped their arms around her middle. She stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away.

  “There’s nothing that says we have to be your parents.”

  “We’re not not my parents either. My mother had no intention of marrying my father. Not until after my aunt died.”

  “But we’re both going into this with every intention of making it last a lifetime. I know I’m planning to be present in this relationship and not check out long before the death do us part thing comes into play.”

  Gabe felt a little bad about obliquely insulting her father until he remembered the man didn’t even walk his only daughter down the aisle.

  She heaved a sigh.

  “I swear to you, Esme, no matter what happens between the two of us, I’ll be the best father I know how to our children. Nothing short of a coma or death would keep me from our child’s wedding.” He held her tighter and kissed the top of her head. Esmeralda shuddered once then again. That’s when he realized she was crying. Gabe turned her in his arms, holding her close as sobs overwhelmed her.

  Heaviness settled over him. No woman should weep like this on her wedding day, especially over something completely avoidable.

  Esmeralda slid her arms around his waist and held on.

  With the weight fully settled like a cloak also came a sense of responsibility. Yes, she would one day be his queen - something he still wasn’t sure how he felt about - but he would always be her husband.

  Her protector.

  A role he’d played for a long time for his older brother.

  But he couldn’t protect her the same way he’d protected Steven. Being seen with a model in New York or London or Sydney took the attention off his brother but would have a very different effect on his wife.

  Her sobs slowed to hiccups. “I’m so tired, Gabriel.”

  “Then let me help you get ready for bed.” He didn’t mean anything by it but what he said. “Let me help you get some rest.”

  She shook her head against him but didn’t let go. “I’m so tired of everything. I’m tired of assuming the worst about you, even if I have good reason to. I’m tired of the people questioning my decision to marry you and hearing the whispers about bets on how long it takes you to cheat on me, if you haven’t already. I’m tired of everyone assuming I don’t know what I’m doing, that I’ll never be a worthy successor to the first Queen of Islas del Sargasso. I’m tired of people assuming our marriage will be just like my parents’. I’m already tired of people wondering when I’ll be pregnant.”

  Her shoulders slumped further. “I’m just so tired of everything.”

  Gabe wasn’t sure what response he could, or should, give. He just held her tighter, and his heart whispered a prayer for her peace.

  * * *

  Esme let Gabriel hold her until a sense of peace settled over her. She’d never been honest with anyone about the pressures put on her as the Crown Princess, much less admitted how she felt about it.

  He didn’t reply but just held on tighter. Something she’d never had with anyone, certainly not her father. Her mother ascribed to what she believed was the British way of thinking when it came to demonstrations of affection, even in private. Esme certainly hadn’t expected him to meet her in the middle of the aisle and walk the rest of the way with her. It caused her heart to soften, a little, toward him.

  “I don’t mean anything by this, Esmeralda, but let me get you to bed. You need some rest.”

  The odd thing, at least to Esme, was that she believed him.

  She let her hands fall to her side and took a step back. “Thank you for letting me cry. I don’t normally fall apart like that.” Esme realized her allegedly waterproof mascara had smudged all over his white tie. She brushed her fingers against the shiny fabric. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s nothing to worry about.” He loosened his hold on her and clasped her hands lightly in his own. “I’m your husband now. If you can’t fall apart in front of me every now and then, who can you fall apart in front of?”

  “No one. Queens don’t fall apart.” Her mother’s stoic personality was more evident behind closed doors than when she was in front of others. Esme wasn’t sure if her mother faked the controlled emotions she showed to the people or if that’s who her mother really was.

  “You’re not queen.”

  “But I will be and being Crown Princess is basically a lifetime of dress rehearsal for the real thing. I’m sure Steven would tell you the same thing.”

  “We’ve never talked about it.” He let go of one of her hands and started for her bedroom, pulling her along behind him, though it didn’t take much. “Have you ever talked with your brother about it or about his status as the spare? That’s not exactly an easy place to be either.”

  Esme hadn’t thought about that before. “No. We’ve never discussed it. Does the term the spare bother you?”

  Gabriel hesitated before answering. “I suppose it does, some.” He didn’t elaborate.

  Esme would have to think about it further. How would she feel to be known as the extra? The one that wasn’t actually needed?

  “I’m going to change into pajamas.” Gabriel dropped her hand. “Do you need any help with your dress?”

  Esme shook her head as she walked toward her dressing room. “I can handle it. Thank you.” It was one reason she’d chosen this dress. She hadn’t wanted to need anyone’s help. Though she suspected those who worked most closely with her had their own doubts about how close she and Gabriel really were, she didn’t want to lend any fuel to the fire if she didn’t have to. With this dress, she didn’t need anyone’s help.

  Most people would have expected her to ask Gabriel, but since that was almost the last thing she wanted, she would have had to ask her stylist, Karen.

  That just wouldn’t do.

  Esme carefully took the dress off and left it lying neatly atop the chair. Her undergarments were dispensed of, a robe belted around her waist, and her hair taken down. It took several minutes to take the pins out, but even then it didn’t hang around her shoulders like normal. Instead, the st
yling product left it looking and feeling odd. She found a ponytail holder and wrapped it around the volumes of hair, putting it up in an actual sloppy bun and not a carefully simulated one.

  Staring at her raccoon eyes in the mirror, she decided a shower was in order to get the day off of her. After wrapping a robe around her, she went into the adjoining bath.

  “Gabriel?” she called.

  “Yes?” It sounded like he’d found his own dressing room.

  “I’m going to take a shower. Don’t wait up for me.” She didn’t want him to. Esme didn’t want to sleep in the same bed, but she also didn’t want to explain why two of the rooms were slept in on their wedding night. After their honeymoon, they could let it slip that Gabriel snored or kept her awake with his tossing and turning. Didn’t Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip sleep separately because one liked to sleep with the windows open and the other didn’t?

  But for at least part of the next two weeks, they needed to stay in the same room to keep up appearances.

  When the water warmed to that point where it was hot enough without being scalding, she shed her robe and stepped under the stream, tipping her head backward to get her hair. The headache she’d been ignoring since her time in Gabriel’s arms thudded to the forefront. There should be some medicine around somewhere when she finished.

  As much as she wanted to stay in the shower for longer, Esme forced herself out. Once dressed, with her hair towel dried to the point it no longer dripped, she pulled it back into that sloppy bun again. She’d deal with it in the morning.

  When she reached for the door leading from her dressing room into her bedroom, Esme hesitated. She closed her eyes, prayed for strength to face whatever she found as well as the next few weeks as she figured out her new normal.

  Gabriel sat in a chair on the far side of the bed, scrolling through something on his phone. He wore an Auverignon Games of the Sargasso Sea t-shirt that looked to be a half-size too small and black pajama pants.

  “I wasn’t sure which side of the bed you wanted,” he told her without looking up.