Page 36
Story: His Royal Bride Replacement
‘I love you so much I could burst sometimes!’ she gasped chokily.
He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and bent down to kiss her. ‘I love you so much,’ he husked.
‘Me too,’ she said with an inelegant sniff.
And then that seething passion they generated together wholly claimed them, bonding hearts and bodies in a wild scorching rush of emotion, sensual pleasure and satisfaction.
EPILOGUE
Five years later
‘I miss Daddy!’wailed Isabella, Crown Princess and future Queen, with a quivering lower lip. ‘He’s s’posed to be here for my tea party!’
Rosy comforted her daughter, explaining as best she could to a four-year-old about a flight being delayed, and quietly reminded her that it was bedtime. Isabella, however, was very much her volatile father’s daughter. With her favourite doll, her favourite teddy, her favourite bunny and even her favourite snake all set up at the little table for the toy tea party, Isabella was inconsolable at her father’s failure to appear. Clover, who often functioned as a large, moving, breathing soft toy for the children, sat calmly nearby, her gentle eyes firmly fixed, not to Isabella, whom she adored, but to the real biscuits on the tea plate.
Rosy hadn’t planned to produce an heir to the throne quite as quickly as she had. In fact, she had intended to wait six months before even trying to conceive. Her cautious schedule, however, had failed owing to a forgetful moment in the shower one morning. Alessio had been over the moon while Rosy had been shaken out of her usual composure. There had been parties across Sedovia after Isabella’s birth, the heir destined to be the first queen in several generations.
And once they had settled into parenting Isabella, it hadn’t seemed a major deal to consider a second pregnancy, only Rosy had unexpectedly conceived twin boys, Enzo and Armando, who were now adventurous two-year-old toddlers, presently fighting over a toy in the far corner of the room. Francesca, the baby currently crawling across the floor and threatening her big sister’s tea party, was definitely, Rosy had assured her husband, their fourth andfinalchild.
The respectable size of the royal family had surprised Sedovia, accustomed to previous rulers who had mostly had only one child. Rosy had never expected to find herself the mother of four children under five but with nannies and staff to help out she had seen no good reason to restrict Alessio’s deep, driving desire for a proper family of his own.
Rosy had also seen that Alessio was never happier than when he was with them. He spent a lot of time with his children. Indeed, Patrick complained that he was being held to an impossible standard with Alessio by his wife, Vittoria. Their little girl, Ginevra, was only several months older than Isabella and family gatherings were lively now. As for Rosy, she had learned that she received a deep inner contentment from being a mother and she cherished the huge amount of love surrounding her.
Certainly, she was not in a position to be as full-time a parent as she once would have liked. On the other hand, she enjoyed her multi-layered life with all its many shades. She had a royal role as Alessio’s consort, which entailed ceremonial appearances, and she attended events for several favourite charities.
Even so, she very much appreciated her freedom to continue working as an art restorer of growing repute. Mostly she restored paintings within their own household in rooms set aside for that purpose. Lucy, now retired while still working as a consultant for the palace restoration team, was a frequent visitor and adviser. Rosy had been suggested as Lucia’s replacement, but Rosy hadn’t wanted the role, knowing that she wouldn’t have sufficient time to devote to the job. It was enough for her to still have the ability to work in the career of her choice.
Alessio’s enquiries in respect of her long-lost mother had, following a two-year search, finally given her answers…sadanswers. Medical records had revealed that her late mother, Heather, had been a drug addict, a fact that Vittoria, a student at the time, had not been aware of but which they both knew that their father must’ve known even though he had chosen to keep it a secret. Most probably, Rosy’s mother had left her baby immediately after her birth because she was desperate for a fix. Heather’s life had gone downhill fast and, within a few years of her daughter’s birth, she had died of an overdose. She had had no other relatives alive and no more children. Tragic though that backstory had been to learn, Rosy had adjusted to it, even more grateful now that Vittoria and Patrick had stepped up for her in that vacant parental spot and still continued to fill it.
In fact, just at that moment, even though Alessio was late and the kids were stroppy over the fact, Rosy acknowledged that she was remarkably happy in her life. Alessio might be the exciting centre of his children’s world but he was at the heart of Rosy’s too. They often spent family weekends at El Palacio in Spain and, in the summer, at the much improved and extended cabin in the mountains, where the kids could run a little wild and skip through the surf and where, occasionally, Rosy and Alessio got a little frisky in the cave behind the rocks. They always spent their wedding anniversaries at the cabin and she cooked and often that was where they got together with her sister and husband and kids because it was a perfect place where everyone could be themselves and not worry about prying eyes.
It occurred to her that she was downright grateful that Graziana had run out on that wedding that should have taken place with Alessio. Having been deported from Sedovia, Graziana had settled back to life on the island of Eboltz and as soon as she had been granted her annulment from the unfortunate bodyguard she had wed in such haste, she had married a wealthy businessman, who had swept her off to live in France. There, from occasional glimpses of her face in glossy magazines, Graziana was living the highly visible, glossy life she had obviously craved. But that kind of life wouldneverhave suited Alessio, Rosy reflected fondly.
‘Daddy!’ Isabella shrieked so loudly that Rosy jumped, sprung from her reverie with a vengeance.
A crowd of children engulfed him in the doorway. Clover stole a biscuit and ran off with it. Francesca commenced her very slow crawl in her father’s general direction. Rosy smiled as Alessio succumbed to the challenge of the tea party.
Alessio’s heart lit up in lights the instant Rosy smiled at him, that warm, welcoming smile that enveloped him. She was still hispiccola volpe, impossibly pretty and delicate in the snazzy blue cocktail frock she wore. It was her birthday but she still wouldn’t put herself forward and would insist that he took his time with their children.
An hour later, the royal couple dined in private with candles and all the little touches their staff had included to enhance the occasion. Rosy sipped wine, the light reflecting off the stunning diamond crescent necklace she wore, her latest gift. Her attention, though, was all for Alessio, who had been absent for a week. Now he was describing someone he had met while he was overseas, lean, darkly handsome features with those classic cheekbones animated, stunning green eyes alight, shapely sculpted mouth compressed with amusement while his hands sketched vivid word pictures in the air between them. Still drop-dead gorgeous, stillhersin every sense of the word and the pleasure induced by that acceptance flamed through her like a wildfire.
Slowly, gracefully, she slid upright and settled entranced blue eyes on him. ‘Early night?’
‘It’s your birthday,’ he protested.
Rosy grinned. ‘So, it’s my choice what we do next…’
‘You’re a wicked woman but I love you for it,’ Alessio groaned, closing his hands over hers to pull her close, tugging her into stirring contact with his lean, hard body. ‘It’s been a very long week without you,piccola volpe.’
She smiled below the circling caress of his erotic lips, reacting to the physical urgency of his hips rocking against her. ‘For me too…’
And they careened into the bedroom, Alessio knocking a shoulder off the door, disconcerting the dog, who looked up and then went back to sleep again, having seen it all before.
A while later, they lay luxuriating in a hot, limp pool of fulfilment.
‘I love you so much,’ Alessio said huskily, winding one of her curls round a long forefinger as he gazed down at her dreamily. ‘And you look absolutely fantastic in diamonds.’
‘Clearly, I was tailor-made for you,’ Rosy murmured drowsily. ‘Yes, I love you too, more than I even did five years ago.’
‘Love sort of grows, doesn’t it? I’ve never been this happy in my life…’
* * * * *
He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs and bent down to kiss her. ‘I love you so much,’ he husked.
‘Me too,’ she said with an inelegant sniff.
And then that seething passion they generated together wholly claimed them, bonding hearts and bodies in a wild scorching rush of emotion, sensual pleasure and satisfaction.
EPILOGUE
Five years later
‘I miss Daddy!’wailed Isabella, Crown Princess and future Queen, with a quivering lower lip. ‘He’s s’posed to be here for my tea party!’
Rosy comforted her daughter, explaining as best she could to a four-year-old about a flight being delayed, and quietly reminded her that it was bedtime. Isabella, however, was very much her volatile father’s daughter. With her favourite doll, her favourite teddy, her favourite bunny and even her favourite snake all set up at the little table for the toy tea party, Isabella was inconsolable at her father’s failure to appear. Clover, who often functioned as a large, moving, breathing soft toy for the children, sat calmly nearby, her gentle eyes firmly fixed, not to Isabella, whom she adored, but to the real biscuits on the tea plate.
Rosy hadn’t planned to produce an heir to the throne quite as quickly as she had. In fact, she had intended to wait six months before even trying to conceive. Her cautious schedule, however, had failed owing to a forgetful moment in the shower one morning. Alessio had been over the moon while Rosy had been shaken out of her usual composure. There had been parties across Sedovia after Isabella’s birth, the heir destined to be the first queen in several generations.
And once they had settled into parenting Isabella, it hadn’t seemed a major deal to consider a second pregnancy, only Rosy had unexpectedly conceived twin boys, Enzo and Armando, who were now adventurous two-year-old toddlers, presently fighting over a toy in the far corner of the room. Francesca, the baby currently crawling across the floor and threatening her big sister’s tea party, was definitely, Rosy had assured her husband, their fourth andfinalchild.
The respectable size of the royal family had surprised Sedovia, accustomed to previous rulers who had mostly had only one child. Rosy had never expected to find herself the mother of four children under five but with nannies and staff to help out she had seen no good reason to restrict Alessio’s deep, driving desire for a proper family of his own.
Rosy had also seen that Alessio was never happier than when he was with them. He spent a lot of time with his children. Indeed, Patrick complained that he was being held to an impossible standard with Alessio by his wife, Vittoria. Their little girl, Ginevra, was only several months older than Isabella and family gatherings were lively now. As for Rosy, she had learned that she received a deep inner contentment from being a mother and she cherished the huge amount of love surrounding her.
Certainly, she was not in a position to be as full-time a parent as she once would have liked. On the other hand, she enjoyed her multi-layered life with all its many shades. She had a royal role as Alessio’s consort, which entailed ceremonial appearances, and she attended events for several favourite charities.
Even so, she very much appreciated her freedom to continue working as an art restorer of growing repute. Mostly she restored paintings within their own household in rooms set aside for that purpose. Lucy, now retired while still working as a consultant for the palace restoration team, was a frequent visitor and adviser. Rosy had been suggested as Lucia’s replacement, but Rosy hadn’t wanted the role, knowing that she wouldn’t have sufficient time to devote to the job. It was enough for her to still have the ability to work in the career of her choice.
Alessio’s enquiries in respect of her long-lost mother had, following a two-year search, finally given her answers…sadanswers. Medical records had revealed that her late mother, Heather, had been a drug addict, a fact that Vittoria, a student at the time, had not been aware of but which they both knew that their father must’ve known even though he had chosen to keep it a secret. Most probably, Rosy’s mother had left her baby immediately after her birth because she was desperate for a fix. Heather’s life had gone downhill fast and, within a few years of her daughter’s birth, she had died of an overdose. She had had no other relatives alive and no more children. Tragic though that backstory had been to learn, Rosy had adjusted to it, even more grateful now that Vittoria and Patrick had stepped up for her in that vacant parental spot and still continued to fill it.
In fact, just at that moment, even though Alessio was late and the kids were stroppy over the fact, Rosy acknowledged that she was remarkably happy in her life. Alessio might be the exciting centre of his children’s world but he was at the heart of Rosy’s too. They often spent family weekends at El Palacio in Spain and, in the summer, at the much improved and extended cabin in the mountains, where the kids could run a little wild and skip through the surf and where, occasionally, Rosy and Alessio got a little frisky in the cave behind the rocks. They always spent their wedding anniversaries at the cabin and she cooked and often that was where they got together with her sister and husband and kids because it was a perfect place where everyone could be themselves and not worry about prying eyes.
It occurred to her that she was downright grateful that Graziana had run out on that wedding that should have taken place with Alessio. Having been deported from Sedovia, Graziana had settled back to life on the island of Eboltz and as soon as she had been granted her annulment from the unfortunate bodyguard she had wed in such haste, she had married a wealthy businessman, who had swept her off to live in France. There, from occasional glimpses of her face in glossy magazines, Graziana was living the highly visible, glossy life she had obviously craved. But that kind of life wouldneverhave suited Alessio, Rosy reflected fondly.
‘Daddy!’ Isabella shrieked so loudly that Rosy jumped, sprung from her reverie with a vengeance.
A crowd of children engulfed him in the doorway. Clover stole a biscuit and ran off with it. Francesca commenced her very slow crawl in her father’s general direction. Rosy smiled as Alessio succumbed to the challenge of the tea party.
Alessio’s heart lit up in lights the instant Rosy smiled at him, that warm, welcoming smile that enveloped him. She was still hispiccola volpe, impossibly pretty and delicate in the snazzy blue cocktail frock she wore. It was her birthday but she still wouldn’t put herself forward and would insist that he took his time with their children.
An hour later, the royal couple dined in private with candles and all the little touches their staff had included to enhance the occasion. Rosy sipped wine, the light reflecting off the stunning diamond crescent necklace she wore, her latest gift. Her attention, though, was all for Alessio, who had been absent for a week. Now he was describing someone he had met while he was overseas, lean, darkly handsome features with those classic cheekbones animated, stunning green eyes alight, shapely sculpted mouth compressed with amusement while his hands sketched vivid word pictures in the air between them. Still drop-dead gorgeous, stillhersin every sense of the word and the pleasure induced by that acceptance flamed through her like a wildfire.
Slowly, gracefully, she slid upright and settled entranced blue eyes on him. ‘Early night?’
‘It’s your birthday,’ he protested.
Rosy grinned. ‘So, it’s my choice what we do next…’
‘You’re a wicked woman but I love you for it,’ Alessio groaned, closing his hands over hers to pull her close, tugging her into stirring contact with his lean, hard body. ‘It’s been a very long week without you,piccola volpe.’
She smiled below the circling caress of his erotic lips, reacting to the physical urgency of his hips rocking against her. ‘For me too…’
And they careened into the bedroom, Alessio knocking a shoulder off the door, disconcerting the dog, who looked up and then went back to sleep again, having seen it all before.
A while later, they lay luxuriating in a hot, limp pool of fulfilment.
‘I love you so much,’ Alessio said huskily, winding one of her curls round a long forefinger as he gazed down at her dreamily. ‘And you look absolutely fantastic in diamonds.’
‘Clearly, I was tailor-made for you,’ Rosy murmured drowsily. ‘Yes, I love you too, more than I even did five years ago.’
‘Love sort of grows, doesn’t it? I’ve never been this happy in my life…’
* * * * *