Page 112 of Modern Romance May 2026 Books 1-4
She held a bouquet of surprisingly humble wild flowers and something about that caught at him. He realised it reminded him of the flowers from Sadat Sur Mer.
And then she was beside him and her distinctive scent mixed with the flowers made him want to breathe deep. She handed her flowers to someone and then went to lift the veil but Caius found himself reaching out so he could do it, pulling up the fine lace to reveal her face, tilted up towards him.
He was so used to seeing women primp and preen and smile for him, but he realised now that, from the moment they’d met, Poppy had always regarded him with a kind of wariness. Had she even smiled that night when they’d combusted? She certainly hadn’t flirted. He suddenly wondered what it would be like if she was to smile up at him. Wide and unrestrained. It made his breath catch in his chest.
Her eyes were huge and very green. Mouth full and sheened with the faintest colour. He wanted to skip all of this pomp and crush that mouth under his, slaking his lust and his anger at her for bringing him here, but he knew he couldn’t even blame her whenhe’dbeen the one falling on her like a lust-crazed teen, and then she was saying something and he had to focus.
‘Thank you for coming.’ Was there the slightest hint of sarcasm? Her voice was low enough for just his ears. Why did that feel intimate when they were in a cathedral surrounded by hundreds of people?
Caius’s conscience pricked. He had planned on travelling sooner but he’d been distracted by a financial crisis in the last ten days—but for some reason he didn’t say that now. As if it would expose him in some way. ‘I’m here for one reason and one reason only—my child.’
‘You’ve made that crystal clear.’
Caius felt off-centre. He usually found it so easy to charm women because he never went any deeper than the most superficial level, but he wasn’t charming around Poppy. He was gnarly and prickly. Defensive. But now it was too late to say anything more anyway. The priest was clearing his throat and they had to turn to face him.
Two hours later, Poppy was still reeling. The wedding ceremony had passed in a blur, as had the open-top carriage ride back to the palace through the pretty streets of Valdere thronged with locals and tourists. Whenever she’d snuck glimpses at Caius he’d had a fixed smile on his face as he’d waved. She could at least give thanks he wasn’t scowling into the crowds of well-wishers.
And then they’d had the coronation, a swearing-in with her highest-level staff and signing the legal documents decreeing Poppy to be queen, and Caius her king consort. It had always been tradition in the royal house of Valdun to conduct the coronations behind closed doors. Something that had its origins in medieval times when they’d been under threat from neighbouring countries, in case anyone tried to disrupt the process.
And now, they were standing before closed French doors, waiting for them to be opened out onto a balcony. Poppy could hear the crowd outside, people thronging the palace grounds to get their first glimpse of their queen and new king. For a second she felt a spurt of anger at her late father.
If he hadn’t made it so hard for her to become queen without a husband she never would have gone to Paris to see Caius up close. She would be here on her own and not with someone by her side who didn’t want to be here. She could have chosen her consort at her leisure and picked someone who didn’t resent her or make her feel so self-aware.
At that very moment Poppy felt something like a butterfly movement in her abdomen.The baby.She put her hand there reflexively and Caius turned his head and looked down. He frowned. ‘Are you OK?’
Those were practically the first words he’d spoken to her since the vows they’d exchanged in the cathedral. Poppy nodded, suddenly caught unawares by the rush of emotion she felt at this first tangible evidence of her baby. Apart from the thickening of her waist and the tenderness of her breasts.
She forgot that she’d just been feeling angry to be in this situation with someone who could hardly bring himself to touch her. Their kiss in the cathedral had been a dry peck, so quick that Poppy wasn’t even sure it had happened.
But the crowd would expect something more than a peck now. She looked up at Caius beside her. ‘You know…the people, they don’t know that this isn’t a real union.’
He looked at her. ‘They’re all romantics?’
Poppy could feel her face get warm. ‘No, I mean, they’re not naive, they’ll know it’s an arrangement of sorts, but they’ll hope that it’s real. Even though my father married numerous times they always greeted every new queen like she was the first.’
That had been particularly stinging for Poppy to witness—the way her father had jettisoned her mother and just moved on again, and again and again. She’d given up trying to bond with her new stepmothers when it had become apparent they’d seen her as some kind of a threat. She’d got used to being sidelined. Sent to schools far away.
She’d been sent to America during holidays to spend time with her mother, but her mother hadn’t liked to be reminded of the fact that her marriage had failed and, also, she’d been busy trying to keep her successful businessman husband happy, so invariably Poppy had been left to her own devices there too.
Her father had insisted on having main custody only because of a law that decreed the crown heir had to be resident in Valdere. She’d always known as soon as one of her stepmothers had a son, Poppy would most likely have been sent to live with her mother full-time. But none of them had.
She brought her focus back to the present moment. ‘It would be good if we can just appear to be united. As much for stability as for the baby’s sake. Once the pregnancy news is released and people realise how far along I am, gossip will be inevitable, but hopefully the prospect of a new royal baby will drown it out.’
Caius’s eyes were so blue it almost hurt to look at them. Poppy couldn’t help but feel he was seeing into her all the way deep down where she longed to know what it felt like to be loved. Really loved. She hated herself for that need, which felt more acute now that she was in a situation with someone who hated her.
‘You know what?’ she said, looking away. ‘Forget I said anything. If you can’t even bring yourself to pretend in public that we’re united then—’
Caius took her hand and Poppy’s words came to an abrupt stop. She looked up at him, her heart suddenly galloping.
He said, ‘I agree. I don’t want to make this any more challenging than it already will be for our child.’
Poppy had to concede at least thatour childwas an improvement onthe child. At that moment guards opened the French doors and they walked forward and onto the balcony, hand in hand.
Poppy couldn’t help smiling at the sight of the thousands of people and her beautiful country sparkling in the sunshine with the great lake in the distance. Her father’s rule hadn’t been popular. He’d been so preoccupied with an heir that he’d been a distracted and an increasingly bitter monarch, failing to enjoy what he had under his own nose. A beautiful country and a loyal people.
Even though most of them would know this wasn’t a love match, Poppy wanted to provide them with a sense of optimism and hope for a brighter future. They didn’t have to know that there was already a time limit on this marriage.
She lifted her hand and waved and Caius waved too. Then it became apparent that the crowd were shouting something, some were saying‘bacio’, Italian for kiss—one of the main languages in Valdere, nestled as it was between several countries. Some were saying‘bisou’and most of them were saying‘kiss, kiss’.
