Best Friend to Princess Bride
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Katrina Cudmore
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13
CHAPTER ONE
KARA DUFFY HIT the mud with a yelp. Cold muck and pebbles dashed her face. She sagged into the soft earth, every inch of her body aching.
Sucking footsteps, in a fight with the quagmire, approached behind her.
Could this day get any worse?
Not only was she, the poster girl for the charity’s first ever fun mud run, going to be one of the last to cross the finishing line, but now one of her volunteer race marshals was having to come and rescue her. She needed to get up. Now. While she had some dignity left.
She pushed with all her might but her hands disappeared into the sogginess and her knees slipped and slid all over the place.
She gave a grunt and flipped over. Swallowing her pride.
But instead of a race marshal, three men, all in their thirties, all muscled and tanned, wearing top-to-toe tight-fitting black clothes, stood watching her. Two were considering her with professional concern, while the guy in the centre was trying desperately to hold back a laugh.
Prince Edwin of Monrosa and his royal protection officers, Domenico and Lucas.
Oh, what? Clamping her hands to her face, she gave a moan. Between her fingers she spotted Edwin grin. She giggled, relief surging through her, the weeks of disquiet over his lack of contact vanishing more swiftly than the grey March clouds scuttling across the sky behind him.
Lowering her hands, she grinned back at him, all of her work worries, her crabbiness over being so cold, her frustration at lagging so far behind in the field of competitors, disappearing in the face of his entrancing sorcerer’s smile.
Edwin’s hand reached down and he hoisted her out of the mud, an embarrassing squelching sound accompanying her escape.
With a barely detectable nod from Edwin, Domenico and Lucas moved away in the direction of the two event marshals who were standing at the stone piers at the top of the field that led out onto the return road to the event’s tented village.
‘You look exhausted.’ Edwin paused, that smile still dancing on his lips. ‘I’d offer to carry you but I don’t want to be yelled at like the last time I pulled you up from a muddy field.’
Puzzled, she yanked her jacket down from where it had twisted around her waist and then she laughed. Of course! He was talking about the first time they had met. She had been seventeen and playing in a rugby cup game and had just been tackled by a prop forward built like a small garden shed. Winded, she had been trying to gather herself when she had been hoisted off the ground. She had expected a teammate but instead she had turned to find a dark-haired guy towering over her, the concern in his golden eyes stealing away her indignation. From the get-go, Edwin had appointed himself as her protector, her rock of good sense...and after Michael, her brother and Edwin’s best friend, had died, despite her resistance he had become her mentor, her modern-day guardian angel.
Now, aching for a shower and hot chocolate at the finishing line, for once she was seriously tempted to take him up on his offer of assistance but of course didn’t do so. ‘You need to be careful with your back at your age.’
Edwin folded his arms. ‘I’m only three years older than you.’
She gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘Every year counts.’
He raised an eyebrow, his thumb flicking across the tip of her nose. She shivered at the fierce concentration in his expression. Then, showing her his thumb, now covered in a smear of dirt, he said with his usual quiet humour, ‘I’m guessing you don’t need this particular memento of today’s run,’ pausing, he ran his eyes down the length of her mud-encrusted body, ‘especially when you are already heading home with a small garden’s worth.’
Kara blinked. And stepped away. His touch always made her feel peculiarly vulnerable. ‘I need to get to the finishing line—the fundraising team will be regretting persuading me to front up the campaign.’ Rolling her eyes at Edwin’s grin, she admitted, ‘I can’t believe I actually agreed to pose for those photos and marketing video of me dashing across the finishing line—I should have known they’d come back to haunt me.’
Turning away, she tackled the mud bath before her. He came and walked alongside her. ‘So what has brought you here today? Isn’t there some exotic beach or skiing trip missing you?’ she asked.
‘I decided to forgo my usual Sunday morning haunts to spend some time with you.’ Taking hold of her hand again, to help her out of a deep hole she was failing to free herself from, he pulled her out and said gently, ‘I know how much today means to you. I wanted to support you, especially as the race is named in Michael’s honour.’
An ache for Michael rose up from the pit of her stomach and spread into her chest cavity like a smothering vapour until it wrapped around her heart, the loneliness of it physically hurting even a decade on. She swallowed down that ache to a place deep, deep inside of herself, balling her fists to create the energy to be upbeat and teasing with him. She lifted her head to meet his gaze. The man with the golden eyes and golden heart. ‘I always appreciate your backing.’ She gave him a wicked smile. ‘As does the rest of my team—Kate and Triona were only lamenting earlier this morning the fact that we haven’t seen a lot of you in the office in recent months.’
‘Where are your team anyway? Why aren’t you with them?’ Edwin asked.
‘I told them to go ahead, I was only holding them up. They needed to get to the finishing line early to thank everyone taking part in the run before they left. We had hoped for a bigger field today and need to persuade as many runners as possible to come back next year. If we can get the numbers right, this run will be a great way to raise funds and promote the work of the charity.’
Edwin’s mouth tightened as once again he had to yank her out of the mud. ‘Somebody should have stayed with you.’ Nodding towards her trainers—well, what was visible of them beneath the inches of mud—he added, ‘And equally someone should have told you to wear something more practical.’
She gazed down at his feet and smirked. ‘Like your special forces-issue boots, you mean? And don’t go denying that you were trained by the Monrosa army—no one goes away, as you claim you did, on a three-month diplomatic tour and returns with biceps that would rival those of a heavyweight boxer.’ As expected, Edwin gave his usual non-committal shrug, so she added, ‘There was no need for anyone to stay with me for the race. I was doing fine until I came to the incline.’
He made a disbelieving sound. And her heart missed a beat as his gaze continued to hold hers with an unsettling intensity. Only now that he wasn’t looking away did she realise just how rarely he fixed his eyes on her for any prolonged period. Disconcerted, she asked, ‘Is something the matter?’
For a moment the faint lines around his eyes tensed, but then he turned and, still holding her hand, led her towards Domenico and Lucas, who were waiting for them alongside the course marshals. ‘There’s something I want to ask you. I need your help. But we can discuss it later.’
She allowed him to guide her out of the quagmire, wondering if this was the first time in all their years of knowing each other that he was asking for her help.
From the first moment that they had met he had helped her, and had shown no sign of stopping. There must have been a time when he had asked for her help...but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember one. Yes, she had given him the support of friendship, shared his passion for old black and white movies and mountain trekking, the writing of Douglas Adams, but Edwin, so self-contained, so self-sufficient, so private, had never directly asked for her help. Even in those dark days and weeks after Michael’s death, when grief had been chiselled into his face.
Now, as he led her out of the field, she inhaled a shaky breath, her chest tightening. How would she have coped if Edwin hadn’t been there for her after her darling, her beloved, her troubled older brother had died? Her parents had fallen to pieces. They had idolised Michael as much as she had. The first family member to go to university. And Oxford at that. Their pain after his death had been unbearable to witness. Knowing Michael had taken his own life had been too cruel, too senseless, too wrapped in guilt and what-ifs. Kara had stood by and watched her dad try time and time again to reach her mum, searching for support, but her mum had shut him out, disappearing into a world of her own where there was no time or energy for anyone else. She had watched her dad plead, grow angry and eventually shut down. It had crushed Kara’s idea of love and relationships to see all of that pain and helplessness wrought on her dad.
As their marriage fell apart and during their eventual divorce Kara had leant on Edwin, needing his support, his encouragement, his advice, his reproaches when she had self-destructively gone off the rails. She had somehow managed to sleepwalk her way through her A levels in the month after Michael had died and gone on to university. But there had been so many bumps along the road, including dropping out of university for a month, until Edwin had made her see sense.
And when she had finally taken her finger off the self-destruct button five years ago, for the first time accepting just how destructive her relationship with her ex-boyfriend Nick was, she had realised that there was one thing she wanted to achieve in life—to set up a charity focused on the mental health of young adults, particularly targeting the difficult years of transition after leaving school. Five years on, the charity had seven centres throughout the UK, ran transitioning and education programmes in conjunction with several universities and provided a twenty-four-hour helpline. But there was so much more that they needed to do. There were so many more young people and their families they needed to help, but the lack of resources was holding them back. The need to do more consumed her.
At the gateway out onto the road, they paused and Edwin shook hands with the marshals, who did a reasonable attempt at appearing to be nonchalant in meeting him, an actual, real-life prince.
When it was her turn to greet the men she pulled them into a group hug. ‘Thanks for volunteering today. We couldn’t hold fundraising events like this without the support of our volunteers.’
Both men held themselves as stiff as a board and when she released them they eyed her as though they were worried for her sanity and their own safety.
‘Kara’s the founder and chairperson of Young Adults Together,’ Edwin explained with amusement.
Both men relaxed.
One of them, heavily built with long hair and a skull nose piercing, said in a pronounced Cornish accent, ‘This morning I was up before dark to come and do my bit.’ Reddening, he cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders, and continued, ‘My daughter...went through a bad patch last year.’
Kara swallowed at the confusion and fear in his voice. He cleared his throat noisily. ‘Your counsellors gave us a lifeline when we didn’t know where to turn.’
Kara pulled him into another hug. This time he wrapped his arms around her.
After she had extracted a pledge from both men that they would continue to volunteer for the charity, she hobbled as quickly as she could alongside Edwin on the internal estate road that led back to the tented village which had been erected adjacent to Fairfield House, thanks to the generosity of Lady Fairfield, who, along with Edwin, was a patron of the charity.
Domenico went ahead of them, while Lucas stayed a distance behind.
After graduating, Edwin had worked in the City of London for four years before returning to Monrosa to act as global ambassador for its financial sector. His job brought him to London on a regular basis but for the past month he had remained in Monrosa and his contact with Kara had mainly consisted of the occasional rushed text. ‘I haven’t heard from you recently—have you been busy?’
Beside her Edwin came to a stop. Kara’s heart did a somersault at how troubled he suddenly seemed.
‘You’re limping.’
Giddy relief ran through her. For a moment she had thought something was seriously wrong. She reached down and rubbed the back of her thigh. ‘I think I pulled something.’
Crouching down beside her, Edwin said, ‘Show me where exactly.’
Kara pointed to the mid-centre of her thigh with her index finger. ‘There.’
His hand touched her mud-strewn thigh, his warm fingers softly tracing over the skin beneath her running shorts. Every muscle in her body tensed as she resisted the temptation to yelp, giggle, move away.
‘You’ve pulled your hamstring. We need to get you back to the finishing line quickly so that you can ice and elevate it.’
His gaze moved up to gauge her reaction.
‘Why are you here, Edwin?’
Instead of answering her question he stood and said, ‘I’ll carry you to the finishing line.’
Kara laughed but she soon stopped. He was being serious. ‘I’m fine. And anyway, I have to make my own way there—my sponsorship depends upon it.’
‘How much is your sponsorship worth?’
‘Close to two thousand pounds.’
For long seconds he held her gaze and Kara’s heart gave a little kick. She should look away, make some quip, but now that he was here she realised just how acutely she had missed him over the past month.
‘I’ll match your sponsorship.’ And then, with one of those utterly charming smiles of his, where she felt as if she was the centre of his world, he added softly, ‘Now, please let me carry you. You’re injured.’
For a nanosecond she actually contemplated his offer. But then good sense kicked in and she walked away. ‘I’ve only pulled my hamstring. And how would it look to all of the other participants if the event organiser not only finished last but also had to be carried over the finishing line? By you of all people.’ A safe distance away from him, she turned back. ‘You know the media would have a field day if you’re spotted carrying me. When are they ever going to accept that we’re only friends?’
Edwin came alongside her. ‘My father and mother had an arranged marriage. They started off as friends.’
Why was he telling her this? And she couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken about his mother, who had died when he was a teenager.
Before she got the opportunity to ask him what was going on, his arm wrapped around her waist and she almost jumped out of her skin. They weren’t the touchy-feely variety of friends.
‘Your limp is getting worse. If you refuse this help then I’m going to instruct Lucas to carry you to the finishing line.’
Preferring the unsettling effect of being so close to Edwin over the ignominy of being carried by Lucas, who frankly scared her a little with his silent-killer type intensity, she allowed him to support her, but didn’t lean as much into his strength as she really needed to.
‘My father still misses my mother. They were a good team. Maybe practical marriages are the answer.’
Okay, this conversation was getting odder and odder. ‘Answer to what?’
Nodding in the direction of the tented village, which had just come into view, rather than answer her question Edwin asked, ‘How much will the mud run raise for the charity?’
Why hadn’t he answered her question? ‘Close to twenty thousand pounds, which will secure counselling services in Southampton for the first three months of next year.’
‘You know I’m happy to provide more funding.’
This was an ongoing argument between them. ‘Yes, and I appreciate your offer. But I don’t want you funding the charity...there are so many others you support. I want Young Adults Together to be funded by the local communities—it builds a better understanding and ownership of the issues involved, along with helping to destigmatise mental health issues.’
He gazed at her with a fondness that burnt a hole right through her heart. ‘I’m very proud of you, do you know that?’
Kara shrugged, rolled her eyes, trying not to let her delight, but also alarm, show. When he spoke to her like that, it made her feel totally exposed and fearful as to what her life would be like if he wasn’t part of it.
Leaving the dual carriageway and following the main artery into Brighton, a sea of red brake lights appearing ahead of him, Edwin slowed and eventually brought his SUV to a stop.
Beside him, Kara sighed heavily. ‘There are roadworks ahead. They’ve been causing traffic chaos for the past week.’ Turning to glance at the car directly behind them, she added, ‘There really was no need for you to drive me all the way home to Brighton. I feel so guilty Domenico and Lucas are having to drive my car back for me.’
Studying his protection officers in his rear-view mirror, Edwin grinned at their scowls and at how they were taking up every spare inch of space in the front of Kara’s tiny car that made him wince each time he saw it, not just because of its canary-yellow bodywork but also because he doubted it would offer her much protection in an accident. She refused to trade it in on environmental grounds. ‘I didn’t want you driving when you should be resting your leg.’
Kara let out an impatient huff and shifted the icepack he had earlier taken out of the first-aid kit in the boot.
‘It’s a pulled hamstring and not even a seriously pulled one at that. It’s fine,’ Kara protested, her nose wrinkling with annoyance, the freckles on her cheeks she usually covered with make-up standing clear and proud.
‘I like you without make-up and your hair like that. It reminds me of how you looked when we first met.’ He hadn’t meant to go out onto the rugby field that day, but seeing her brilliantly dodge endless tackles through intelligent and courageous play the length of the pitch, only to be thwarted at the try line, he had roared in frustration, and then, seeing her inert on the ground, her face buried in the earth, her limbs sprawled, he had raced onto the pitch, the need to get to her, to protect her all-consuming. And to this day that need to protect her was still there. A need that had solidified after Michael’s death. Seeing her despair, her loneliness as her family fell apart, he had vowed to protect her, to always support her.
Michael’s funeral had been a nightmare. Kara’s parents, who were both deeply private individuals, had resented the media attention Edwin’s presence had attracted and, already wracked with guilt over whether he could have done more to help his friend, he had listened to Kara say quietly and with a heartbreaking dignity in her eulogy that she had lost her first ever best friend, her inspiration, and he had silently pledged he would always be there for the little sister Michael had adored.
At times, he had struggled. Her pain had mirrored his own grief—not only for the loss of his best friend, but also from losing his mother and the unearthed memories and feelings he wanted to keep buried. But as they had got to know each other over the years their relationship had moved to one of firm friendship, and Kara, with her straight talking and dry sense of humour, gave him balance and perspective and a sense of normality he could so easily lose in a life where people were always way too eager to please him.
Was he about to put their entire relationship in jeopardy? Was he about to compromise the trust between them? Frustration towards his father and fear for the future had him wanting to open the car door and break into a run.
Oblivious to the bombshell he was about to deliver to her, Kara gave him a horrified look, flipped down her sunshade and stared at her reflection in the mirror. ‘Are you kidding me? I can’t believe I forgot my make-up bag this morning. And as for my hair...’ She paused and lifted her long, honey-blonde curls with a grimace. ‘Remind me to arrange for there to be a few hair straighteners in the women’s changing rooms next year.’ She gave a shiver and flipped the sunshade back up. ‘I look terrible. I need a serious dose of sunshine—I look like I’ve spent ten years locked away indoors.’
Admittedly there was the hint of dark circles on the delicate pale skin beneath the sweeping brush of her long eyelashes, but the brilliance of her crystal-blue eyes hid that tiredness from all but the keenest of observers. ‘I take it you are still working insane hours.’
Ignoring his comment, she flicked the radio to another station and then another, not settling until she found one playing jazz. She knew he hated jazz.
Ahead there was still no movement in the traffic. Flicking the radio off, he said, ‘I saw you hobbling around the refreshment marquee when you were chatting to the runners—my guess is that your leg is a lot more painful than you’re letting on.’
She rolled her eyes but then turned in her seat and regarded him with an appreciation that always caught him right in the gut. She followed it with the double whammy of her wide smile that always exploded like a firework in his heart, radiating a lightness inside him that always threatened the protective cloak of royal circumspection he had been taught to adopt from an early age.
‘Thanks for coming in to say hello. The runners were thrilled to see you. I think you’ve guaranteed the success of next year’s run. We were inundated with runners asking if they could sign up,’ she said.
‘I’m sure their interest in participating next year is down to how well the event was organised today and nothing to do with me.’
‘Oh, please. You know the huge crowd waiting at the finishing line were there for a reason. And it certainly wasn’t to cheer me on. Apparently there was a stampede back to the finishing line once word got around that you were spotted starting the race late—from our female runners in particular.’ Nodding in the direction of the car behind them, she added with a grin, ‘You and the guys did look rather fetching in your tight running gear.’
When was the traffic going to move again? He had things he needed to say to her. Things that were tying his stomach in knots. He had spent the last couple of weeks with a team of lawyers trying not to be in the position he was now in. What he had to ask of her was huge and unfair. He didn’t want to drag her into this mess that wasn’t of her making. But there was no one else he could trust. Dryly he responded to her teasing, ‘I’m glad we proved to be of some use.’ Then, unable to resist teasing her back, he added, ‘I reckon it might be safer if you stick to the sidelines next year, though.’
‘No way! I mightn’t be special-services fit like you but I can hold my own. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson and I’ll pace myself much better next year.’ She gave him a hopeful smile. ‘It would be great if you could take part again. I can get Triona to contact your office with the date and hopefully if you are free they’ll be able to schedule it into your diary.’
He arched his neck. Being stuck in a traffic jam was not the ideal place for this conversation but he couldn’t go on pretending his life hadn’t been turned upside down any longer. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be in a position to take part next year.’
For a moment she frowned but then she visibly paled. Her hand shot out to touch his arm. ‘You’re not ill, are you? Is that why you haven’t been in touch recently?’
Her immediate concern for him only ratcheted up his guilt. He had sworn he would protect Michael’s little sister, and here he was, asking her to step into the unrelenting scrutiny of the entire world.
He and Michael, who had both been students at Oxford, had met through the aikido club. As it had turned out, both of them were in Mansfield College studying Politics, Philosophy and Economics, Edwin a year ahead of Michael. On several occasions, Michael had brought him to his family home in London, claiming he needed to be exposed to the reality of how others lived. In London, Michael had taken him to the homeless charity where he had volunteered when in sixth form, and to his local aikido club, where he heard about their programmes to encourage teenagers into sport and away from knife crime. And Kara had tagged along, listening attentively to Michael’s opinions, smiling when Edwin and Michael disagreed over some issue. She had visited Michael in Oxford and had gone to parties with them, the only person to ever persuade Michael out onto the dance floor. Kara had idolised Michael and their parents had worshipped him. Edwin used to tease him over it, Michael always shrugging it off until one evening during his second year in Oxford, when they were both at a house party. Michael was drunk and fell and spilt a drink all over someone’s laptop. The owner screamed at Michael. Michael just stood there staring at the girl as she ranted at him, not reacting, looking as though nothing was registering with him. And then he disappeared out of the house. Edwin followed him, unsettled by the blankness in Michael’s expression.
Edwin finally found him in the gardens of Mansfield. He almost backed away when he realised Michael was crying. Edwin had been brought up to hide his emotions. He didn’t know how to cope with someone else’s. But he went and sat down next to Michael. And they must have sat in silence for at least twenty minutes before Michael admitted just how much he was struggling to fit in at Oxford, how apart he felt from student life, his constant anxiety, how he feared disappointing his family, how riddled his mind was with dark, negative thoughts. Edwin listened, tried to help, but he was way out of his depth and ill-equipped to deal with Michael’s despair. He encouraged Michael to reach out to the support services in the university and offered to pay if Michael would prefer to go to see someone privately.
And after a lot of resistance, they ended the night hugging, Michael promising to contact the university health services. But in the weeks that followed, Michael shut Edwin down whenever he asked how he was doing. He disappeared off campus or spent days locked away in his room, claiming he was studying and didn’t want to be disturbed.
In the run-up to their end-of-year exams, Edwin spoke to the college authorities about his concern over Michael’s welfare. Michael learned of his intervention and went ballistic, refusing to speak to him again. Edwin called Michael’s parents one night, a call he had agonised over for days, not wanting to betray Michael’s privacy or to panic his parents unduly. He spoke to Michael’s dad, who responded with disbelieving bewilderment. He told Edwin that, while he appreciated his concern, he was certain he was wrong. For hadn’t Michael only told them the previous weekend just how much he was enjoying university life and was looking forward to staying with Edwin in Monrosa over the summer?
Michael failed his second-year exams. The day after he learnt his results he caught a train to the south coast and took an overdose on the beach that night. Early the following morning he was found by a local man.
His parents were away on holiday. Kara was the first to be told.
Kara called Edwin in Monrosa, sobbing and, despite several attempts, unable to tell him what was the matter. It was their neighbour who quietly whispered those words of horror down the phone to him.
Within an hour he was on his way to London. Once there, he held Kara, his heart torn in two by her mute, violent shivering, all the memories of holding his youngest brother, Ivo, the morning of their mother’s funeral haunting him, reminding him how Ivo too had shuddered with grief, his fragile bones rattling in his arms.
When his mother had died he had thought that the grief of losing her would simply be about the gut-aching sadness and disbelief—he had never anticipated the ugly swamp of consequences that kept flowing back into his family’s lives and swallowing them whole. Their father’s angry, authoritarian way of trying to be an effective single parent, Luis’s rebellion, which had seen him constantly in trouble with authority, Ivo’s avoidance of them all, his own deliberate distance.
Loving someone too much destroyed you.
And in the aftermath of Michael’s death, all those emotions had been stirred up again and he had relived the agony of losing someone. Through the shock and grief and guilt he had somehow managed to care for and support Kara, encouraging her to continue with her studies, and to accept her university place, and as time passed they had become close friends, their relationship managing to survive media intrusion and endless arguments when Kara was testing every boundary possible, crying out for attention.
And now he was about to ask her a question that could blow apart the one friendship that kept him sane.
He lowered his window. Drops of drizzle immediately speckled the interior of the car door but he needed some air to clear his brain. On a deep inhale he admitted, ‘I might not be able to take part in the race next year because by then I might have succeeded to the throne of Monrosa.’
For long moments Kara stared at him, grappling for words. ‘When did this happen?’
‘My father has decided to abdicate.’
‘And you’re next in line.’ Looking away, she stared at the still stationary traffic and said distractedly, ‘There must have been an accident ahead.’ Then, her gaze shifting back to him, she shook her head. ‘Wow. I didn’t see that coming. But you don’t seem very excited. I thought succeeding was what you always wanted.’
In the distance a siren sounded, and it came closer and closer until a police car passed them on the hard shoulder. He winced at the piercing sound. ‘Both the royal court and the public will be slow to accept this change in ruler, especially when I push through my reforms to halt the ever-increasing mass tourism to allow for more sustainable development on the island to protect the environment.’
For long seconds Kara studied him, her ability to get to the core of a problem apparent in the reckoning in her eyes. ‘You need to sell your vision of the Monrosa you want to rule. Ground that vision in what you already stand for—prosperity for all while protecting both the environment and the vulnerable in society. Look at all the changes you’ve already made by persuading your father to reform environmental policy. And there are all your ideas on housing and healthcare reform. I know you’ll rule with loyalty and compassion while ensuring Monrosa continues to thrive. And the people will come to see and appreciate that too, with time.’
He could not help but laugh at the passion in Kara’s voice. ‘Maybe I should employ you as my press officer.’ Then, sobering at the thought of the momentous battles he would have in the future, he added, ‘Those environmental reforms aren’t enough—they are only the start. Changing the mind-sets of the people, especially those heavily invested in the tourism industry, will not be easy. Environmentally responsible tourism and the attraction of other service industries, especially the financial-services sector, has to be the way forward for Monrosa’s economy.’ He let out a heavy sigh, ‘Dio! We have ruined long stretches of the coastline already with overdevelopment. My father sees no issue with it, but it’s unsustainable. I need to succeed to the throne to stop any further development. We need to set in place a twenty-year plan for keeping the economy viable whilst protecting the unique environment of Monrosa.’ His mother had been a passionate campaigner for protecting Monrosa’s unique microclimates and biodiversity, and Edwin was determined to put the protection of the environment centre stage during his reign.
Kara nodded. ‘And you will succeed in putting that plan in place. I know you will.’ Then, pausing to bite her lip, she added, ‘I’m guessing I’ll get to see even less of you once you are crowned. Is that why you haven’t been in contact recently?’
‘I’ve spent the past month trying to persuade my father to stay in the role. I’m not convinced he’s abdicating for the right reasons.’ Seeing Kara’s quizzical look, he added, ‘He believes it’s time for fresh ideas and a new energy in the role.’ Then, rubbing his hand over his jaw, Edwin admitted, ‘My father also says that he wants to ensure he has grandchildren before he’s too old to enjoy them.’
‘What has your father abdicating got to do with him becoming a grandfather?’
Edwin inhaled a deep breath. ‘My father quietly passed a new piece of legislation last year on succession in Monrosa. From now on, only a married individual can be sovereign.’
Kara tilted her head and gave a small exhale of puzzlement. ‘What does that mean?’
Doubt and misgivings and fear stirred like a trinity of foreboding inside him. He wasn’t into relationships, never mind marriage—there was too much expectation around the need for love and intimacy. And Edwin’s heart was too closed to ever risk loving another person again. Was he really prepared to enter into the minefield of marriage because it was his duty to do so? That question was easily answered. His destiny was to be crowned Sovereign Prince. He owed it to his country, his family, his people. ‘I have to marry or my aunt, my father’s sister, Princess Maria, will succeed to the throne.’
Kara laid her head against the headrest and let out a heavy, disbelieving breath. ‘You’re getting married.’ She looked away, out to the grey and abandoned-looking industrial estate on the opposite side of the road, her hair obscuring her face.
‘That’s why I’m here today, to tell you. There’s something I need...’
Before he could say anything more Kara twisted back to him, shifting in her seat and giving him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. Who’s the lucky woman and when is it all going to happen?’ Then with a brief laugh she added, ‘No wonder you disappeared off the face of the earth for the past month. I thought you were caught up with work and royal duty, not planning the wedding of the year.’
‘My father intends on announcing his abdication next Thursday. The coronation date of the next monarch is already arranged—it will take place on the first of June.’
‘So you have to be married by then?’ Not waiting for him to respond, Kara said, ‘That’s just over two months away. So who are you going to marry? Are you already engaged? Is the wedding date set?’
Another police car, siren blaring, passed on their inside. He waited for the sound to fade out before he said, ‘Earlier I said I needed your help...’
Kara waited for him to continue. After years of embracing bachelorhood, his brain was still struggling to keep up with the new reality his father had decided to foist on him.
Folding her arms, Kara said, ‘Please don’t tell me you want me to be your best woman or something like that. I’m sure Luis can manage to behave himself for once and deliver a fitting best man’s speech. And if not, I’m sure Ivo could be persuaded. Eventually.’
Did she really think he would become engaged to someone else without forewarning her or at least telling her he was heading in that direction? ‘No! Not that. What I want to ask you...’ he paused, gave her an uneasy smile that did nothing to diminish her unimpressed scowl ‘... I want to ask you to marry me. I want you to be my wife.’
