A Royal Wedding(92)
‘You have always been my Prince, Simon Reynolds. I never thought you could one day be my King. We will find a way to make it work, because I don’t want to spend one more miserable day away from you. That’s why I applied for Andy’s job yesterday.’
‘You did?’ he replied, his forehead so close to her. ‘I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours convincing your company to build on what we have achieved so far and use us as a pilot study for similar initiatives all over the kingdom. They’ll be sending a whole team of new graduates to make it happen. But I’ll need you with me every step of the way to make it work. Say yes, Katie. My beautiful princess. My Katie. Say yes, so that I can take you home to begin our new life together.’
CHAPTER TEN
IT WAS a perfect morning in June, and the cathedral bells were ringing out across the old narrow lanes and university buildings of the ancient city which Kate now called her wet season home.
They were ringing for her, Kate O’Neill, and the man she was going to marry. When Simon had been crowned King of the village all she’d had to do was watch in wonder as the local tribal Kings and their families gathered in the huge Durbar Square. Simon and the elders had paraded around, greeting the hundreds and then the thousands of local inhabitants who had come to meet their new King.
Under the huge parasol, and again accompanied by the elders carrying tall staffs with golden standards, Simon had accepted the honour of having the crown placed onto his head with such dignity and gratitude that Kate had swallowed down tears of pride and happiness as he’d sworn allegiance to the principal King and been given his new name.
It had been a magical day. The crowning ceremony had been followed by feasts and wonderful food, then dancing late into the night—and music: music all day. Music so joyous and exuberant and full of life that just the memory of that day made her grin with pleasure.
It was memories like that which had sustained her over the winter months and the weeks they had been apart as Andy and Molly had worked to create the new project programmes.
Sometimes it had felt as though she had dreamt the whole thing.
Simon—her Simon—was a king. A king!
A man other people loved and respected and went to for advice and decisions and help. She was so proud of him, but the more she thought about her new role, the more she sometimes felt intimidated by the enormity of her responsibilities.
It had truly hit home when she’d returned to the village with Tom and Gemma in the Easter holiday. It had come as quite a surprise when the village matchmaker had called on her father out of the blue with his attendants, to start negotiations for her marriage to their King. Traditional gifts had been offered, which she’d had to formally accept and examine with great detail before they could finally become officially engaged in the eyes of the community.
It was only then that it had seemed real. She was engaged. To a king.
Kate smiled to herself as she looked out onto the sunlit streets, then suddenly Gemma sneezed, and Kate looked up at her across the width of the limousine and smiled as Gemma rubbed her nose and grinned back at her.
Trust Gemma to bring her back down to earth.
Gemma had loved everything about Africa. The light, the colour and the atmosphere. And the villagers had taken her into their homes and their lives. The pretty blue-eyed girl with the lovely smile had already broken the hearts of several local boys, but there was only one person Gemma had wanted to be with and spend her day with—and that was Simon. She’d followed him to school, lip-reading his answers to her non-stop questions, helping out on the computers, sitting next to him at mealtimes and holding tight onto his hand when they’d been in the crowds of well-wishers and curious people.
Kate reached out and squeezed Gemma’s hand for just a few seconds, and Gemma crinkled up her nose in reply and used sign language to say, ‘You look so beautiful.’ She waved her hands above her ears. ‘Especially the head thing.’
Kate casually patted the diadem the hairdresser had pinned onto the chignon below her veil. The tiara had been a surprise gift from her future mother-in-law, and it was a precious vintage piece which had been passed down through the family. Simon had called it a peace offering, and perhaps it was, but it was also the closest thing to a crown that Kate had ever worn, and it felt and looked amazing.
‘Oh, this old thing,’ she replied to Gemma, and they grinned in secret code.
‘A crown for a princess.’ Tom laughed on the seat next to her, and pushed against her shoulder playfully, in the jacket of his new morning suit. ‘My two girls look lovely. I am proud of you both.’ And with that Tom O’Neill sniffed several times and took a moment to look out of the window, trying to look casual, as though he did this every day of the week.