A Queen for the Taking?. Кейт Хьюит

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СКАЧАТЬ king requested that I show you to your room, so you may refresh yourself.’

      ‘Thank you.’ With a brisk nod she followed the man out of the ornate receiving room and down a long, marble-floored corridor to the east wing of the palace. He took her up a curving marble staircase with an impressive gold bannister, and then down yet another marble corridor until he finally arrived at a suite of rooms.

      During the entire journey she’d only seen more staff, liveried and stony faced, giving her the uneasy sense that she was alone in this vast building save for the countless nameless employees. She wondered where the king had gone, or, for that matter, the queen dowager. Surely Sandro’s mother, Sophia, intended to receive her?

      Although, Liana acknowledged, she couldn’t assume anything. The summons to Maldinia’s royal palace had come so quickly and suddenly, a letter with Alessandro’s royal insignia on top, its few pithy sentences comprising the request for Lady Liana Aterno of Abruzzo to discuss the possibility of marriage. Liana had been in shock; her mother, full of expectation.

      This would be so good for you, Liana. You should marry. Why not Alessandro? Why not a king?

      Why not, indeed? Her parents were traditional, even old-fashioned. Daughters married, produced heirs. It was perhaps an archaic idea in this modern world, but they clung to it.

      And she couldn’t let them down in their hopes for her. She owed them that much at least. She owed them so much more.

      ‘These will be your rooms for your stay here, my lady. If you need anything, simply press the bell by the door and someone will come to your attention.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Liana murmured, and stepped into the sumptuous set of rooms. After ensuring she had no further requirements, the staff member left with a quiet click of the door. Liana gazed around the huge bedroom, its opulence a far cry from her modest apartment in Milan.

      Acres of plush carpet stretched in every direction, and in the centre of the room, on its own dais, stood a magnificent canopied four-poster bed, piled high with silk pillows. The bed faced a huge stone fireplace with elaborate scrollwork, and several deep armchairs in blue patterned silk flanked it. It was a chilly March day and a fire had already been laid and lit, and now crackled cheerfully in the huge hearth.

      Slowly Liana walked towards the fireplace and stretched her hands out to the flames. Her hands were icy; they always went cold when she was nervous. And despite her every attempt to convey the opposite to King Alessandro, she had been nervous.

      She hadn’t expected to be, had assumed a marriage such as theirs would be conducted like a corporate merger, their introduction no more than a business meeting. She wasn’t naive; she knew what marriage would entail. Alessandro needed an heir.

      But she hadn’t expected his energy, his emotion. He’d been the opposite of her in every way: restless, quick-tempered, seething with something she didn’t understand.

      She closed her eyes, wished briefly that she could return to the simple life she’d made for herself working at the foundation, living in Milan, going out on occasion with friends. It probably didn’t look like much to most people, but she’d found a soothing enjoyment in those small things. That was all she’d ever wanted, all she’d ever asked for. The safety of routines had calmed and comforted her, and just one meeting with Sandro Diomedi had ruffled up everything inside her.

      Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes. Enough. Her life was not her own, and hadn’t been since she was eight years old. She accepted that as the price she must pay, should pay.

      But she wouldn’t think anymore about that. It was as if there were a door in Liana’s mind, and it clanged shut by sheer force of will. She wouldn’t think about Chiara.

      She turned away from the fire, crossing to the window to gaze out at the bare gardens still caught in the chill of late winter. Strange to think this view would become familiar when she was wed. This palace, this life, would all become part of her normal existence.

      As would the king. Sandro.

      She suppressed a shiver. What would marriage to King Alessandro look like? She had a feeling it wouldn’t look or feel like she’d assumed. Convenient. Safe.

      She’d never even had a proper boyfriend, never been kissed except for a few quick, sloppy attempts on a couple dates she’d gone on over the years, pressured by her parents to meet a boy, fall in love, even though she hadn’t been interested in either.

      But Alessandro would want more than a kiss, and with him she felt it would be neither sloppy nor quick.

      She let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking her head at herself. How on earth would she know how Alessandro would kiss?

      But you’ll find out soon enough.

      She swallowed hard, the thought alone enough to make her palms go icy again. She didn’t want to think about that, not yet.

      She gazed around the bedroom, the afternoon stretching emptily in front of her. She couldn’t bear to simply sit and wait in her room; she preferred being busy and active. She’d take a walk through the palace gardens, she decided. The fresh air would be welcome.

      She dressed casually but carefully in wool trousers of pale grey and a twin set in mauve cashmere, the kind of bland, conservative clothes she’d chosen for ever.

      She styled her hair, leaving it down, and did her discreet make-up and jewellery—pearls, as she always wore. It took her nearly an hour before she was ready, and then as soon as she left her room one of the staff standing to attention in the endless corridor hurried towards her.

      ‘My lady?’

      ‘I’d like to go outside, please. To have a stroll around the gardens if I may.’

      ‘Very good, my lady.’

      She followed the man in his blue-and-gold-tasselled uniform down the corridor and then down several others and finally to a pair of French windows that led to a wide terrace with shallow steps leading to the gardens.

      ‘Would you like an escort—?’ he began, but Liana shook her head.

      ‘No, thank you. I’ll just walk around by myself.’

      She breathed in the fresh, pine-scented mountain air as she took the first twisting path through the carefully clipped box hedges. Even though the palace was in the centre of Maldinia’s capital city of Averne, it was very quiet in the gardens, the only sound the rustle of the wind through the still-bare branches of the trees and shrubs.

      Liana dug her hands into the pockets of her coat, the chilly wind stinging her cheeks, glad for an afternoon’s respite from the tension of meeting with the king. As she walked she examined the flowerbeds, trying to identify certain species although it was difficult with everything barely in blossom.

      The sun was starting to sink behind the snow-capped peaks on the horizon when Liana finally turned back to the palace. She needed to get ready for her dinner with the king, and already she felt her brief enjoyment of the gardens replaced by a wary concern over the coming evening.

      She could not afford to make a single misstep, and yet as she walked back towards the French windows glinting in the late afternoon sun she realised how little information King Alessandro had given her. Was this dinner a formal occasion with СКАЧАТЬ