Hours later, another surge of protectiveness washed through Gabriel as he lifted India out of the plush seat of the Gulfstream jet and cradled her against his body. The aircraft had been chartered by the CEO of the French mining operation in Bagazin, but flown by Gabriel’s pilots.
Only another couple of hours and they’d be touching down in Santaliana.
It was no wonder his new queen didn’t even stir as he sat down on a larger lounge with her. It’d been an incredibly fraught day culminating in their hasty marriage ceremony, and their escape from the embassy and out of Mawandi’s reach.
India hadn’t relaxed until the pilot had announced over the PA system that they’d cleared Bagazin’s airspace. At that time, the hardened security team had cheered from their seats at the rear of the aircraft and Gabe had known an enormous sense of relief.
India hadn’t even smiled. She’d been exceptionally quiet, and when he’d prompted her to speak, she’d told him how guilty she felt knowing that the lives of the entire party had been endangered because of her.
‘We’re all safe now,’ he’d told her simply, before they both lapsed back into silence.
Now he realised they were both trying to absorb the fact that they were married. Everything had happened so quickly, it’d been surreal. India had voiced her vows tremulously while her entire slender frame had shaken hard—so hard it’s a wonder some seismic recorder hadn’t registered the tremors as an impending earthquake.
There’d been no congratulations offered, no photographers and no well-wishers. The entire atmosphere throughout the service of necessity had been tense. Gabriel had half-expected Mawandi’s troops to move on the embassy and force their way through the gates and into the building. His security staff had been instructed to take whatever action was required to keep India safe.
Thankfully there hadn’t been any shots ringing out—no shouts raising alarms that the armoured tanks were about to crash through the perimeter fences—nothing to disturb the marriage ceremony, which had lasted all of five minutes.
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. The danger was over and thankfully nobody had been killed or injured. The pilots had received word via a radio call from the mining company that the embassy staff members were also unharmed.
Eyes blinking open, he looked down at India.
The immediate physical danger might be over, but now there were new threats to be faced. Gabe had a new wife—a wife he’d married to protect, even knowing it was his fault his last wife had died.
Santaliana had a new queen—a queen who was about to stand before a court hearing for her role in the death of a dictator’s son.
He suppressed self-mocking laughter. All these years he’d tried to bring honour to the family name. He’d ranted and raved because Devereaux’s highly publicised wild behaviour had shamed the House of de la Croix. Now he’d married an alleged murderess and placed enormous political stress on Santaliana’s relationship with France.
He stifled an inward groan. The road ahead would be rocky, but he wasn’t without friends and allies. The moment they touched down in Santaliana, he’d meet with Devereaux and with Mackenzie. He’d already phoned ahead and apprised Dev of the situation.
Dev had been a solid support, assuring Gabe that both he and his wife would do anything and everything they could to help. A former image consultant, his sister-in-law would be certain to have suggestions as to how best to handle the negative publicity that would ensue.
And if the fallout was too great, Gabe fully intended to go ahead with his backup plan and abdicate. Six months ago, the very thought of leaving Devereaux in charge of Santaliana would’ve appalled him. Devereaux had built a reputation as one of the most notorious playboys in Europe—partying hard and being reported by newspapers as having a different woman in his bed every night of the week. The Prince of Santaliana had reached a point where Gabe had wondered if his brother was completely irredeemable.
Now Gabe was aware of Dev’s subterfuge and of the reason for it, he had no doubts that his brother would rule the kingdom extremely well. And there wasn’t a single soul in Santaliana who hadn’t embraced Mackenzie as their new princess and who wouldn’t welcome her if she became their new queen. The population also adored Mac’s ten-year-old daughter, Eliza.
Gabe couldn’t help smiling when he thought of young Eliza and the mayhem she caused in what had previously been a sterile environment in the castle. Since she’d moved in, there seemed to be one uproarious scrape or another that she was involved in on an almost daily basis. Devereaux certainly had his work cut out for him if he was to rein in his stepdaughter’s misadventures.
The castle had come alive with Eliza’s presence—more so than it’d ever been when Gabe, Eden and Dev had been children. Santaliana could use a few more children in the royal household.
Heaviness settled in Gabe’s heart.
The more he thought about it, the more sense it made for him to abdicate. Devereaux and Mackenzie should be the new king and queen. Together, they would create a family.
Gabe may have a new wife, but that was only because he’d had to marry India to save her. It remained to be seen whether he could keep her safe—and God help him, he’d sell his soul to ensure that he did. But he wasn’t planning on pressing his luck. He couldn’t possibly father a child knowing he might inadvertently create a situation that caused that child to die. The loss of his parents and his sister had been gut-wrenching enough and the guilt he carried over Angelique’s death was a heavy burden to bear, but the loss of a child would destroy him.
Unable to stop himself, Gabe used his hand to lift the heavy curtain of India’s hair. Desire struck hard. Sheer force of habit in putting his honour before his personal needs had only just made him manage to control it.
He wanted this woman and had from the first moment he’d seen her years ago.
They were married.
There would be no divorce.
He knew she desired him, but what chance did their marriage have when she’d married him under duress and when she’d planned her future with Artarmon?
Gabe had literally removed another man’s engagement ring from her finger. He’d replaced Artarmon’s diamond with the ring worn by the monarchs of the de la Croix house. The heavy gold signet ring, which bore the coat of arms of Santaliana royalty, was a sign to the world that India was his. It was a temporary sign, and would soon be replaced. He’d already phoned the royal jeweller and ordered that a ring be especially made and ready to present to India the next morning. Having his commands met swiftly was an advantage of his royal status.
But even though he’d instructed the jeweller very specifically about the engagement and wedding rings he wanted made, rings were just a symbol. The need to make her his in reality blazed through him.
Would their mutual passion be a sturdy enough foundation upon which they could build their marriage, or would India grow to resent him?
She’d had no more choice than Angelique in the matter of her marriage to him.
Angelique had been pressured into the marriage by her father for political reasons. India now bore the title of the queen of his kingdom because if she hadn’t agreed to marry him, she’d be in a cell in Bagazin now awaiting public execution.
Some choice.
The pressure built in his chest and made it difficult to breathe deeply. He replayed the scene from mere hours ago when he’d told her she was to be his bride. There’d been her utter shock when he’d made the announcement. Shock had turned to sheer horror when he’d been adamant there’d be no divorce, and—when he’d told her she wasn’t to see Artarmon again—she’d hung her head and been unable to look at him.
When she’d finally agreed—and she hadn’t exactly jumped at his offer even knowing what alternate fate awaited her—there’d been such tragedy written on her features. She’d said she was sorry about the marriage even while her innate good manners had made her express gratitude.
Gratitude.
The word scraped along his nerves.
He didn’t want India’s gratitude. What he wanted was her love.
Could he win it? Could he build on the sexual attraction and the enjoyment they’d had in each other’s company and carve out a lasting future of happiness together?
As badly as he wanted her—as much as he knew they shared mutual sexual attraction—he couldn’t take India to his bed. Not yet. In her mind, she may still be engaged to Artarmon and he needed to give her time to get over her former fiancé.
In his phone call with Devereaux, Gabe had instructed that word be sent to Artarmon to advise him that India was now his wife. At some point tomorrow he’d phone the earl’s son and make certain it was clear that Artarmon was to keep his distance.
Artarmon had to stay out of the way if Gabe had any chance of winning India’s heart.
Gratitude. The word hammered at him again. The last thing Gabe wanted was for India to join him in their marital bed out of a sense of obligation or out of gratitude. He wouldn’t hurry his wife. He was prepared to give her as much time as she needed and to do as much as he needed to do to make their marriage work.
***
India sensed the moment Gabriel lifted her up from her seat on the aircraft and into his arms. She revelled in being held close to his chest and soaked up all the comforting heat radiating from his supremely masculine flesh. He was so handsome he’d rival Adonis, and every day that’d passed in his company she appreciated his character even more. Reality hit swiftly. Gabriel was her husband and there’d be no divorce.
She was safely out of Bagazin airspace and wouldn’t be handed to President Mawandi, but now she had a new fear. Gabriel had given her his name. How long before he expected her to give him her body? And when she couldn’t, how would he feel about her then? Would he pity her or resent her? He’d have every reason to resent her. Once again, she’d withheld an important piece of information about herself.
How could she possibly hope to build on a marriage when she wasn’t prepared to reveal her entire self to her husband?
Previously she’d managed to hide her shame at her sexual block by pretending to be engaged to Jeremy. That was impossible now—unless Gabe continued to believe she was so much in love with Jeremy she couldn’t contemplate going to bed with him. Instantly she pushed the thought aside because Gabriel had acted with such honour, she couldn’t hurt him by allowing him to think she was in love with another.
Gabe knew she craved him physically. There’d been no hiding her responses to him.
If Gabe pushed for a physical relationship with her, her last, shaming secret would come to light soon enough and all her insecurities would be exposed.
Everything in her longed to make this marriage work. Gabriel may never have married her if he hadn’t been forced into it, but he deserved to be loved.
He had her love. The man she’d come to know on this trip away—the man who’d roughed it with the villagers of Misanti, played in the river with elephants, and put himself in grave danger to save her from execution—was the man she’d grown to love.
Somewhere in their time together her heart had ceased to be her own and it now belonged to him.
There was no doubt that she loved and admired Gabriel, but would he ever reciprocate her feelings?