The Royal Marriage

‘You have a beautiful place here,’ Ricardo said, gazing out, impressed. There was something wild and untamed about the landscape—something he couldn’t define but that he found viscerally disturbing.

The two men sat down on the sofas and two uniformed maids materialised with coffee and fruit juice.

‘This fruit is umbu,’ Gonzalo said as Ricardo tasted the refreshing juice. ‘It is typical of the north-east of the country. We have a great variety of fruit here.’

‘Delicious.’ Ricardo was still wondering what it was that had triggered Gonzalo’s urgent message. He was travelling incognito, having left his usual retinue behind in Maldoravia, and he was enjoying the freedom this allowed him. Right now he was content to bide his time. So, instead of showing overt curiosity as to why Gonzalo had summoned him, he sipped his juice and waited. Three years as ruler of the Principality had taught him patience. He had no doubt that all would be revealed in good time.

Several minutes later Gonzalo was conducting him up a wide marble staircase, past walls covered with bright colourful paintings that Gonzalo explained were from local and other South American artists, to a large suite of rooms. There the maids were already unpacking his belongings.

‘I suggest you take a rest,’ Gonzalo said. ‘When it is cooler we can meet for drinks downstairs and chat.’

‘That sounds perfect,’ Ricardo replied.

A few minutes later he was under the shower, enjoying the rush of ice-cold water. When he got out he sleeked back his dark hair and twisted a bath towel around his waist. He was a tall, well-built man. At thirty-three, several years of working out had left him with a trim, sculpted body. His dark brown eyes surveyed the reflection of his finely chiselled face in the bathroom mirror as he debated whether he needed another shave.

Water still trickled down his tanned back as he moved across the marble floor towards French windows and opened the doors. As he stepped out onto the balcony he was met by a pleasant breeze. The scorching heat of earlier in the day had subsided. Leaning on the balustrade, he looked out towards the rolling sand dunes and the bright blue sea, intrigued. From here, the next port of call, he reflected thoughtfully, was Africa. There was clarity and luminosity now that the heat haze had subsided, leaving the coconut trees and the rich vegetation distinct.

Ricardo stretched. He was about to turn back inside and lie down when a movement in the far distance caught his eyes. Shading them from the setting sun, he watched a straight-backed female figure astride a handsome white horse approaching along the beach at a gentle canter. It made a pleasant picture. As she drew closer he could make out her lithe movements, and her long dark hair flowing wildly in the wind. The woman and the animal blended as though they were one.

Ricardo stood glued to the spot, watching as she reined the horse in, then dismounted easily onto the sand and shook her hair back. The horse stood obediently as she removed her jeans and shirt, revealing long bronzed limbs and a perfectly proportioned body encased in a tiny white bikini. Then, like a top model on a Parisian catwalk, she glided towards the water and entered the spray, dipped under a wave and then emerged. He could hear her laughing and calling to the horse. A smile broke on his lips as the animal trotted into the water and together they frolicked. It was a magical scene, unreal. A beautiful deserted landscape, a girl and a horse so in tune with one another. Like something out of a movie.

He wondered who she was. He knew little about Gonzalo’s family—only that he had been a widower for many years. He had never met any of Gonzalo’s children. Certainly he had never heard his own father mention any.

He stood straighter and observed the girl lead the horse out of the water, back to where she’d left her clothes. Even at this distance it was confirmed to him that her figure was almost perfect, and he experienced a rush of raw sexual attraction. Then, throwing her garments up on the horse, the girl leapt into the saddle.

Ricardo drew in his breath as she galloped off into the rich crimson sunset.

‘You must naturally be wondering why I asked you to come here at a moment’s notice,’ Gonzalo remarked as, later, the two men sat on the lushly decorated veranda, which was furnished with dark rattan chairs upholstered with comfortable white cushions, low coffee tables and tropical plants.

It was pleasantly cool now. A gentle breeze blew in from the sea and a delicate crescent moon shone above them at a right angle. Night had fallen quickly due, Ricardo knew, to the proximity of the Equator. Brightly etched stars dotted the inky sky even though it was still early. He could even distinguish the Southern Cross.

‘I must confess to curiosity,’ he said, taking a sip of whisky, studying his host.

‘Then I shall not beat about the bush,’ Gonzalo replied, with a wise, knowing smile that held a touch of sadness. ‘I am an old man, Ricardo, and unfortunately my health is not in the best of shape.’

‘I’m sorry to hear it.’

‘So am I. Not for myself, you understand, but for one that I must leave behind when the time comes to pass on.’

‘I wasn’t aware that you were married.’

‘I’m not now. I have been a widower for many years. I had no children from my first marriage. But years ago I had an affair with a young woman—a young English film star whose movie I financed. We were married in secret, as she didn’t want the publicity to affect her career, but she was killed in a plane crash just two months after our daughter was born.’

Ricardo said nothing, merely crossed one leg over his knee and waited. Some favour was about to be asked, he was sure.

‘Last month my doctors in New York told me that I have less than a year to live. It’s cancer, I’m afraid, and it’s terminal. I have only a few months left.’

‘I’m deeply sorry,’ Ricardo said, truly sad for his father’s old friend. ‘What can I do to help?’

Gonzalo took his time, swivelled his glass in his fingers, then looked Ricardo straight in the eye. ‘Marry my daughter.’

‘Excuse me?’ Ricardo sat straighter. He had expected a request—but hardly this.

‘I would like you to consider marriage to my daughter. A marriage of convenience. It is not unusual in your world. The Maldoravian royal family have always had planned marriages, as far as I can gather.’

‘Maybe, but—’

‘Even your own parents’ marriage was arranged, dear boy. And I gather a marriage of convenience was what your father had planned for you, was it not?’

‘That’s all very well,’ Ricardo countered. ‘But my father is dead and times have changed, Gonzalo. I lead my own life now.’

‘And from all I’ve heard you are enjoying it very thoroughly,’ Gonzalo replied with a touch of dry humour. ‘But you are thirty-three years old, Ricardo, and the succession must be thought of. Is there anyone you would consider as a future wife?’

‘Well, actually, I haven’t got around to thinking of marriage yet,’ Ricardo replied, a picture of Ambrosia, his exotic Mexican mistress, forming in his mind. He had no intention of giving her up, even though marriage would never come into it. ‘There is still time ahead of me.’

‘Perhaps. I am not asking you to change your lifestyle, merely to consider an arrangement that could be advantageous to both parties. After all, you need an heir—and a wife who is both suitable socially and a virgin. Also, it has come to my knowledge,’ Gonzalo added with a speculative look before Ricardo could interrupt, ‘that your uncle Rolando has made some unfortunate deals for the Principality.’

This last was true. But how this knowledge, which had been kept very secret in the family, could have reached Gonzalo was beyond him. Ricardo experienced a twitch of irritation. Time to tread very carefully, he realised, on the alert now.

‘There have been one or two unfortunate incidents,’ he said guardedly, ‘but nothing serious.’

‘No. But I remember your father telling me that it is written in the Maldoravian constitution that until you marry you are still obliged to accept your uncle’s participation in the Principality’s government, aren’t you? And, should you die without issue, he will automatically become ruler. A daunting thought,’ Gonzalo murmured, letting his words sink in.

‘That is true.’ There was an edge of bitterness to Ricardo’s voice. His uncle had been nothing but trouble with his profligate lifestyle. The fact that he was second in line to the throne was subtly brought home to Ricardo by his Cabinet on every possible occasion.

‘What I propose,’ Gonzalo continued smoothly, ‘is a scheme that could help you organise your affairs satisfactorily and help me die in peace.’

‘Gonzalo, I would love to help you, but—’

‘Your father and I used to talk of this sometimes—jokingly, you understand. But now time is of the essence. My daughter, Gabriella, is nineteen. She will inherit my entire fortune—which, though I say it myself, is sizeable. I cannot leave her unprotected. I fear for her future. I would like to know that she will be marrying someone who will respect her and take care of her affairs, as I know you would. There would be many other advantages to the match, of course, but those we can discuss in due course.’

‘I think I had better make it quite clear,’ Ricardo replied coldly ‘that I consider marriage a big step. I do not view it as a business arrangement, and I am afraid that I must therefore decline. If there is anything I can do to help protect your daughter in other ways, then you can count on me. But I’m afraid marriage is out.’

Gonzalo smiled. ‘I expected this reaction. It proves you are truly the kind of man I thought you had grown into. Your father’s son. But enough for now. Let us relax and talk of other matters.’

At that moment the clipped echo of high heels on marble interrupted the conversation. Ricardo turned. Gonzalo’s head flew up and a warm smile lit his eyes.

‘Querida,’ he said, rising, as did Ricardo. ‘Come in and let me introduce you to His Royal Highness Prince Ricardo of Maldoravia.’

He was certainly handsome, even if he was quite old, Gabriella reflected as she glided into the room, eyeing Ricardo askance out of the corner of her eye. But she knew exactly what her father was up to and had no intention of co-operating. Why he had suddenly become fixed on marrying her off to someone when she had very different plans for her future was beyond her. She would let this man know exactly what she thought of the whole scheme. But for now she would play their game, get her own show on the road, and then, when the time came, she would twist her father round her little finger—as she always had.

‘Ricardo—this is my daughter, Gabriella.’

Stopping in front of Ricardo, she extended long, tapered, tanned fingers. ‘Good evening,’ she said coolly. ‘Welcome to the Fazenda Boa Luz.’

‘Good evening.’ Ricardo spontaneously raised her fingers to his lips, recognising Gabriella as the girl he’d seen earlier on the beach. He had rarely beheld a more beautiful young woman. She carried herself with such grace and elegance that it was difficult to believe someone so young could have acquired this kind of poise.

Gabriella sat down gracefully next to her father. Her flimsy white spaghetti-strapped chiffon dress emphasised the delicate curves of her slim, sinuous body. The single diamond at her throat shone against her tanned skin. Her long black hair cascaded silkily to her waist and her large green eyes shone, but her straight, chiselled nose looked almost disdainful as she crossed her legs. The chiffon parted, revealing never-ending limbs. She was a picture of studied elegance.