Page 45 of Not-So-Perfect Princess
Jules tried to ignore them. She needed a distraction. A quick survey of the room yielded nothing. Alejandro must have left before Enrique. She would have to rely on her own imagination.
She imagined being on La Rueca and holding the wheel in her hands. The metal felt smooth beneath her palms. The boat heeled and water splashed against her face and wet her clothes. Alejandro manned the jib sheet, his flexed muscles glistening from a combination of sweat and water. He glanced back at her. His handsome face filled with pleasure, his dark eyes gleaming with hunger for her. An answering desire sparked low in her belly as the wind whipped through her hair—
“With the dreamy look in your eyes, you must be picturing your wedding day,” a woman’s voice broke through Julianna’s thoughts.
She turned off the romantic scene playing in her head and brought herself back to the present.
“You look gorgeous, ma’am.” Delia motioned to the women in pink. “Let’s button up the back to see how the gown fits.”
Jules didn’t—couldn’t—say anything. She’d rather daydream about sailing with Alejandro than think about marrying a man who would have a wedding gown designed for a nameless, faceless bride. A dress more suited for a younger woman who wanted to be a fairy-tale princess, not a woman a couple of years away from turning thirty. The thought of walking down the aisle wearing the dress filled her with dread.
Don’t think about that. She imagined herself with the wind on her face, the taste of salt in her mouth and Alejandro next to her.
Someone pulled on the left side of dress. “It’s a little tight.”
Jules pretended the lifeline tugged against her, keeping her attached to the boat. With iffy weather and big waves, falling overboard could be fatal.
As would be continuing to fantasize about Alejandro.
“It’ll fit,” another woman said.
The pressure around Jules’s midsection increased. She felt as if she were caught in the middle of a tug-of-war game. The air rushed from her lungs, forced out by whatever was being tightened around her.
“Can’t breathe,” Jules croaked.
“Release the buttons and strings,” Delia ordered.
The women did.
“Thank you,” Jules said.
“Sorry, Ma’am.” Delia’s cheeks flushed. “The dress is too large in the bust and too small in the waist. I’ll take measurements so I can alter the gown.”
Enrique must have given the measurements for his idea of the perfect bride. Jules wasn’t surprised he wanted an eighteen-year-old woman with the proportions of a real-life Barbie doll. She remembered the room he’d picked out for her with the garden view to make her happy. One of Enrique’s problems was he assumed everyone’s tastes were the same as his own or should be.
Using a measuring tape, the designer and her assistants took measurements and scribbled notes.
Jules wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but despair crept along the edges of her mind, threatening to swamp her. The reality of what kind of marriage she would have had become clearer.
Running away, giving up duty and family for happiness, no longer seemed like such a drastic measure. She could shuck the awful dress and flee. No more grinning and bearing it. No more doing what everyone else wanted her to do.
But that behavior wasn’t any more her than the wedding gown. Jules wanted a better future for her children and her country. She had a plan. She would have to be content with her sailing rebellion.
“That is all we need, Ma’am,” Delia said. “I’ll start to work on the alterations right away. I shall also remove some of the bows and layers. Prince Enrique talked about a fairy-tale princess dress. That led me to believe you were younger. My mistake.”
“You’ve worked hard on the dress, Delia. The craftsmanship and quality are outstanding. I know you’ve delivered the wedding dress Prince Enrique asked for,” Jules said. “But I’m twenty-eight. Not eighteen. Anything you can do to make the gown a little more…subdued would be appreciated.”
Delia bowed her head. “I understand, ma’am.”
The woman’s empathetic tone told Jules the designer understood. Was that enough to make up for her having to wear the dress and marry an egotistical crown prince? She exhaled on a sigh.
