Royally Claimed (18 page)

Julia wiped at her tears with the handkerchief. Marthe-Louise wrapped a sturdy arm around Julia's shoulders and a knot loosened under her sternum that she hadn't realized still bound her.

She forgave Frank for not chasing to Boston after her, she forgave herself for not chasing back to New York after
him,
and she forgave whatever unfathomable twist of fate that had taken their baby from them and wrenched them apart.

She knew now that she had come here not just to show Frank how hot she looked in her new suit, but also to start again with him. If he still wanted her. She'd certainly been difficult, turning his well-ordered life upside-down and sideways.

The bride and groom were exchanging rings and saying their vows, and her heart twinged. Frank might not want to try again with her—if they were on a sports team like the groom, their record would be 0-2. But maybe they could do a last-minute save.

Stefania kissed her new husband and a pleased murmur ran through the crowd. The happy couple turned down the aisle amidst the traditional organ music for the bridal recessional, grinning so hard their faces must have ached.

Julia turned her attention back to Frank. He stood and adjusted his sword, slapping Giorgio and Jack on the back. Giorgio whispered something in Frank's ear and he froze, the happy expression dropping off his face like a rock. He slowly turned and his gaze met hers across the pews. She hoped her eyes weren't red and watery anymore.

She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but she knew her own expression was equally stunned. Giorgio must have kept track of who she was and what she looked like.

Jean-Claude and his wife gave Frank a happy wave. He returned it absentmindedly, and understanding dawned on their cheerful faces. “Ah, you are a surprise for François,
non?
” Jean-Claude asked. “A beautiful surprise for him.”

“Um, thank you.”

“Not at all.” They shook hands with her. “We see you at the reception,
mademoiselle.
”

Once the kind French couple filed down the aisle, Julia went the opposite direction, knowing that Frank would follow her and not wanting a big crowd watching them. A small chapel stood off to the side with a beautiful stained glass window of a golden dove in white beams of light.

Julia stared up at the window, wishing she could be so peaceful. Under better circumstances, she would love to sit here and try to relax.

She closed her eyes for a second, but knew exactly when he approached her. “Julia.”

She turned. “Frank. Nice to see you.” He was even more handsome close up, but his dark eyes were wary.

“I didn't expect to see you here, Julia.”

“You didn't? I thought you asked the bride to invite me.” How utterly embarrassing. And she'd even been put in a pew with his good friends. “But who did invite me?”

“Oh, Stefania did invite you—but it was probably that scoundrel Benedito who asked her. I made him quite miserable the week after you left.”

“And this was your payback.” She blinked hard, trying to estimate how quickly she could leave this pretty little country and run back to Boston. But she mentally stopped herself. Hadn't she done that once already?

“I made him miserable because I was missing you. He probably thought he was doing me a favor.”

“Oh.”

He moved closer, his sword and medals jingling. “How are your nightmares, Julia? I hate to think of you suffering. Sleep should be free of cares.”

“They're fading gradually,” she admitted. More and more often she dreamed of him instead, but that was a different kind of suffering.

“Good. I still feel terribly guilty for not protecting you from that sort of situation.”

She exhaled impatiently. She had shopped till she dropped in London and had come across Europe for the same disagreement? “We already talked about this, Frank. I was a teenager and you were twenty. Neither one of us had a college degree and I'm sure your family on their private island and grand estates would have been thrilled to marry you off to the daughter of an American Air Force noncommissioned officer who didn't even own a home since we moved every few years.”

“We Duartes are not in the habit of moving,” he replied. “We haven't moved in eight hundred years.”

“Will you move now?” she asked. “If I meet you in the middle.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't want to mess this up any longer. I can't stand not being with you. We survived the loneliness and pain and miraculously found each other again. What more can you ask after all these years?”

“Decades more.” He pulled her to him and kissed her fiercely. He lifted his head. “I was an idiot to let you go. I could have easily found you but I thought you needed your space and you would eventually contact me again. When I didn't hear from you for so many months, I thought the memories were too painful for you to see me, so I gave up. We could have dated through college and married soon after, but I was foolish and stubborn, refusing to take the first step toward you.”

“I was foolish and stubborn, too,” she admitted. “I lived in my shell for so many years until I was almost shattered. I had to come to the Azores to make myself whole.”

“I am not whole,” he whispered. “Ever since you left me again, I am missing part of my soul. Come to me in Portugal, Julia. Marry me. As you Americans say, the third time's a charm.”

“What?” She stared at him with huge eyes.

He dropped to one knee, heedless of his lovely uniform. “Marry me, Julia,” he repeated. “Live with me in Portugal—make my estate a home for us. I cannot bear to be without you anymore. I love you with all my heart.”

“Frank…” she murmured, stunned that he was
proposing to her again, here at someone else's wedding. Her mother would have a fit at the breach of etiquette.

“Do you still love me,
amor meu?
” He kissed the back of her hand.

“I do. I never stopped loving you for the past eleven years. Why do you think I never married, never even got engaged? My heart was always yours.” She wrapped her fingers around his, shaking on her high heels.

“Then tell me yes, you will marry me. If you say no, I will crawl on my hands and knees following you around the cathedral. My sword will scratch the marble floors, my trousers will be ruined, and worst of all, my mother will berate me for acting a fool in front of all her friends.”

Julia couldn't help giggling at the image. “Get up, Frank.” She tugged at him, realizing they were attracting some attention. “Don't you know it's tacky to propose to a girl at someone else's wedding?”

He resisted her prodding easily. “Stefania will forgive me. She would be the first to cheer me on.”

He was probably right. From all he'd told her, the bride was decidedly unconventional.

“I'm going to start singing Portuguese love songs in a few seconds,” he warned her. “Three, two, one.
Te amo, te adoro, você quer casar comigo
…” His pleasant baritone voice echoed in the cathedral.

“Frank!” She slapped her hand over his mouth and he kissed her palm. He gave such a look of love from his sweet brown eyes that she melted. “Yes, I'll marry you.”

He leapt to his feet. “Oh, Julia.” Heedless of anything
or anyone around them, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“Is that your sword or are you glad to see me?” she asked demurely.

He threw his head back and roared in laugher. “Both, of course. I'll unsheathe them for you later.”

She groaned and rested her head on his shoulder. “Are you going to wear this for our wedding?”

“All of this plus the ducal coronet. It's family custom.”

“Like a tiara?”

He gave her a pained look. “No, not a tiara—that is for women. A narrow gold crown for a man. And you get one, too.”

“A crown?”

“A coronet belonging to the Duchesses of Aguas Santas. You'll be the newest.”

She clutched his hand. “Your mother! Will she like me?”

“She'll love you. Would you like to meet her? She and my sisters are probably wondering where I am.”

He'd been making more than enough noise to attract everyone's attention. “How do I look?” She patted her hat to make sure their kiss hadn't knocked it off. It sure knocked her socks off.

“You look like the most beautiful, the most precious, the most wonderful woman in the world,” he told her. “And it is an honor that you will be my wife.”

“The honor is mine.”

He bent to kiss her again and a flash popped. “Uh-oh. I think the cat is out of the bag.”

She giggled. “After we meet your mom, I need to call mine so she won't find out about us in the paper first.”

“I'd loan you my phone, but I left it in my other ceremonial uniform,” he said with a wink. Then his expression deepened, a look of awe and wonder on his face. “Oh, Julia, you have made me the happiest man in the world.”

“And I'm the happiest woman in the world.”

“I will never forget our past, Julia, but from now on, we only live in the present and plan for the future.”

“Our future.” She rested her cheek against his and smiled. A golden-white beam of light shot through the stained-glass dove and shone on them as a blessing. Their past had its dark moments, but they had finally come to a brighter place together. Forever.

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