Love Islands…The Collection. Jane Porter

wasn’t just the smile that he dropped, but the warmth. That ruthlessness was exposed once more, making her realise just what a stranger to her he was.

      ‘Of course.’

      She ran her fingers over a smooth jet-black glass sculpture that stood on a low table. ‘So you studied law?’

      ‘For a couple of years, yes.’ He turned away from her, choosing to sit at the table.

      ‘Contracts and business and wheeling and dealing?’ Like his sharp-suited friend?

      ‘I preferred evidence—criminal law.’ Another bare minimum answer.

      ‘You wanted to be a courtroom lawyer?’

      ‘It is impossible for me to work as a lawyer.’

      ‘But you wanted to be one?’ she pressed, curious about this side of him.

      ‘We all want things we can’t have.’

      ‘Not princes.’

      He hesitated, then cast a theatrical, mournful look at her. ‘Especially princes.’

      He’d slipped back into that ‘Prince Eduardo’ character—all roguish charm.

      ‘I’m not about to feel sorry for you,’ she said.

      ‘Good. You’re not marrying me out of pity, then.’

      ‘I’m not marrying you for your money either,’ she said, deadly serious.

      ‘You can give it all away if you like.’ He shrugged carelessly. ‘Return to your room now. You have more preparations to attend to.’

      ‘Seriously?’ He was dismissing her? Just like that?

      ‘Yes.’ He looked unapologetic. ‘Things to do, Stella.’

      ‘Of course—your princely time is so precious.’

      Stella walked back to her room, all senses on alert when she found her door was open. An older woman waited in the centre of the room alongside a wardrobe rack on wheels—the kind models had on fashion shoots.

      ‘Miss Zambrano?’

      ‘Yes.’ Stella just stopped and stared.

      ‘My name is Giulia. I’m here to help you dress tomorrow.’

      Dress? Eduardo had been serious about her choosing a wedding dress? Given that the clothes rail was filled with dresses, it seemed he had.

      ‘They are yours to try on. Choose your favourite and I will alter it as necessary.’ The woman bent her head and smiled shyly. ‘Any would look good on you.’

      ‘Where did these come from?’ Stella gazed along the rail, too scared to touch even though each creation was wrapped in protective plastic.

      Seven dresses. All different styles. All obviously expensive.

      ‘They were flown in from Paris and Milan.’

      Stella read each carefully pinned label. High-fashion houses every one of them. Italian. French. American.

      She’d never been a dress-up girl. Except for that one time she’d dressed up in her father’s uniform. His fury had made her all the more determined to earn one of her own—to be better than the son he’d wanted and never got. Only her father had sent her away to school on the other side of the world. Out of sight, out of mind.

      ‘Allow me to show you each dress.’ Giulia suddenly took charge. ‘I realise it can be difficult to make a decision when they are all so exquisite.’

      Enraptured by the yards of silk, satin and lace, Giulia took a good twenty minutes showing and explaining the unique features of each.

      ‘Have you worked for Eduardo long?’ Stella asked when the servant had hung the last dress back on the rack.

      Giulia’s eyes clouded and she retreated back behind her quiet reserve. ‘A number of years.’

      ‘I bet you didn’t think he’d ever marry.’ Stella tried to smile, as if joking. ‘He’s “the untameable prince”, right?’ She used the media’s favourite description of him.

      ‘It has long been expected that Eduardo will marry. Both he and Antonio deserve happy marriages.’ Giulia stood haughtily.

      ‘Which do you think he’d like?’ Stella stopped trying to smile and stared at the dresses. It wasn’t that she wanted to please him, but it was clear that Giulia did.

      Giulia glanced briefly at Stella, then moved to the last dress she’d held up. A tumble of soft, pretty silk with embroidered flowers trailing down the edges. The flowers gave just a trace of colour to the dress and reminded her of spring.

      Stella held up her hands and shook her head. ‘It’s too fussy, with all that detail.’

      ‘It is modest, yet modern. You should try it.’

      Well, she had to start somewhere. Self-consciously Stella stripped to her underwear and stepped into the beautiful dress, holding still so Giulia could fasten it.

      Five minutes later she stared at herself in the mirror, trying not to let her shock show on her face. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t worn a dress before—she just didn’t do it that often—and this dress...

      ‘You’re sure it’s okay?’ She swung to face Giulia.

      ‘Are you comfortable in it?’ Undeniably smug, Giulia was smiling.

      ‘Yes.’ Stella realised she was more than comfortable. Who knew that putting on a dress could make her feel different? Brave. Beautiful. It was like a costume in which she’d play a part. Or a uniform. Armour.

      ‘Then it is the one.’ Giulia made small adjustments to the waist and the hem and pinned them.

      ‘That was easy.’

      ‘When you know, you know. It is the same when choosing a groom, si?’ Giulia suddenly chuckled softly. ‘I will bring you a dinner tray now. Then you should rest. You have a big day tomorrow.’

      Stella paused. ‘I’m not dining with Eduardo?’

      ‘He has business to attend to.’

      The little pleasure Stella had felt at discovering the dress disappeared. Now, left alone in the room with the other possible wedding dresses, the full horror of it sank into her bones.

      Any dress would have done, right? As would any bride. Rumour had it the upcoming autumn ball was to have been a ‘find a bride’ event in disguise, for the pair of princes. Eduardo didn’t want to marry, but was ‘expected’ to. In other words, at some point he had to. And look what fate had so conveniently provided. A pregnant lover.

      Not desired. Not loved. Merely convenient.

      Stella rubbed her chilled arms. Could she really go through with this mockery? Even if it was only temporary? Or did she not want to because it was only temporary?

      Her heart skipped faster as her thoughts veered too close to the uncomfortable. She knew her parents had loved each other. She’d seen it in the pictures her father had hidden away because they hurt him too much. He’d withdrawn into his work.

      At the thought of her mother, fear unfurled.

      Impatiently she walked over to the fresh tray that had been delivered to her room. She forced herself to eat, even though she couldn’t be less hungry. Not because Eduardo had told her to, but because the child within her needed sustenance. Stella had to stay strong and healthy. She couldn’t let her child down. She couldn’t make her mum’s mistake.

      She ate quickly, quietly, alone. How many times in her life had she eaten with no one to talk to? No companionship. No support. Just a few bites of food—fuel and nothing more.

       He has business to attend to.

      Was