He rested his temple on hers.
‘Just let me love you,’ he said simply, his deep voice shaking with the force of his emotion.
‘Ah, oui,’ she whispered. ‘I can do that, too.’
* * *
It was on a rare sunbathed morning in April when Lorelei stepped out into the gardens of the villa.
A great deal had changed in these parts in six months. A ridiculous amount of money had been poured into restoring the Spanish villa to its original grandeur, and its gardens once more lay in variegated parterres. The fountains sprang to life as the bride joined her father at the top of the steps. Lorelei held one section of her long ivory skirts aloft as she laid her other hand in the crook of her father’s arm.
‘Are you certain, ma chère? Nothing is set in stone.’
Lorelei smiled. ‘But it is, Papa. It was the moment I set eyes on him.’
Raymond sighed. ‘I suspected as much. So it is l’amour and I gain a very rich son-in-law.’
Lorelei’s laughter sang them down the steps. She paused only to pluck a spray of her grandmother’s lavender and tuck it into Raymond’s lapel.
He had been released from prison shortly before Christmas, and was living quietly in Fiesole with wife number five—an older Italian widow with far too much money and a very good accountant. Lorelei was fairly sure Raymond was safe from his own light-fingered proclivities.
Nash waited restlessly with a small congregation of friends and family on the lawn of the old villa. Beyond was the view of Monaco made famous the world over in a much-loved film and the blue curve of the Mediterranean sea.
For the first time in months he hadn’t slept in their bed here at home. He’d been relegated to a suite at the Hotel de Paris, which held special memories for them both.
This morning he’d dressed in a cutaway coat and striped tie, and had had his shoes polished whilst his brother Jack ribbed him about those who stood tallest falling hardest. At ten o’clock he’d climbed into the vintage Bugatti and took off up the hill.
This was the most important date of his life, and after every stumbling block he’d faced getting her here the sight of Lorelei coming towards him beneath a fine veil of valenciennes lace almost overwhelmed him.
Nash felt Jack’s hand grip his arm briefly.
He nodded and blew out a deep breath.
He reached out his hand as Lorelei approached and she took it. Her fingers were trembling, but his were sure.
The officiant took them through the vows, pronounced them man and wife, and as he took Lorelei in his arms he knew exactly what all the fuss was about.
‘Why, Nash, you’re trembling,’ she said with a little smile just for him.
‘Just wait until I get you alone, Mrs Blue,’ he replied.
‘I can hardly wait,’ she whispered.
Nash grinned. Yeah, that was one way of putting it.
And that was when the kissing started.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Playing the Royal Game by Carol Marinelli
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CHAPTER ONE
SHE was better off without the job, Allegra told herself.
No one should have to put up with that.
Except that walking in the rain along grey London streets, taking the underground to various employment agencies, the anger that her boss could make such a blatant a pass at her and then fire her for not succumbing started to be replaced with something that felt close to fear.
She needed that job.
Needed it.
Her savings had been obliterated by the bottomless pit that was her family’s excess spending. At times it felt as if her lowly publishing wage supported half the Jackson family. Yes, she was the boring reliable one, but they didn’t mind her dependability when their erratic ways found them in trouble. Just last week she had lent her stepmother, Chantelle, close to five thousand pounds in cash for credit card debts that her father didn’t know about. It was laughable to think that she might now have to have her family support her.