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  She turned to face Cesar. ‘Love isn’t a necessary component in any arrangement we may come to. I am not yet ready to make a final decision, so this isn’t anywhere near a done deal, but I’m willing to go on to the next stage of negotiations.’

  Relief touched his face as his shoulders relaxed and then he smiled. ‘That sounds good to me. I believe we can build a happy marriage, based on attraction, trust, shared beliefs and a desire to do the right thing for our countries. It is now my job to persuade you of that.’

  His job. Negotiations. It was now his remit to bring negotiations to a close and suddenly a sheen of sadness touched her thoughts, an idea that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. But it was as it was. She wasn’t Gabi Ross book-store owner any more—she was a princess, soon to be Queen, and she had to think differently.

  ‘So we will continue to date,’ Cesar continued, ‘and I will continue to liaise with Miles over the publicity angles.’

  * * *

  Cesar and Miles did their job all too well, as it turned out. Because over the next few days, to Gabi’s astonishment and discomfort, the media, expertly encouraged by Cesar and Miles, went nuts for the romance angle. A number of dates and occasions were agreed, and through necessity, given the number of royal engagements in her diary, Cesar simply came with her.

  And... Gabi no longer knew how she felt. About anything. Could no longer distinguish between reality and illusion. All she did know was his proximity messed with her head and made the public engagements paradoxically both harder and easier.

  Harder because she was on edge, her body preternaturally aware of him at all times, ever conscious that she had to act like a woman falling in love. Easier because with Cesar at her side she felt less alone; less daunted by the fear of making a mistake.

  Thank goodness she and Imogen had decided to sneak a little girl time this evening; as if on cue there was a knock on the door. ‘Come in.’

  Imogen entered and as always Gabi felt a rush of gratitude that she hadn’t lost her friend, that Imogen had come with her on this royal journey.

  Imogen smiled widely at her. ‘Now, let’s not waste time.’ She sat down on the armchair in front of the fire, tucked her legs under her and accepted the glass of red wine Gabi handed her with a smile and a murmur of thanks. ‘Tell me what is happening with Cesar.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ seemed the safest way forward. Especially as it also had the benefit of being truthful.

  ‘Do you like him?’

  ‘Yes...’ Hearing the doubt in her own voice, she shrugged. ‘I do like him, but I still don’t feel as if I know him. We see each other in public, we’re on show. Sometimes I wonder if Cesar is always on show. Always diplomatic, a smile and the right word always to hand.’

  ‘I think that is how the princes here are, be they Casavallian or Aguilarean. They mask their emotions; Cesar perhaps even more so than Luca and Antonio. According to Luca, Cesar’s parents were even more distant than Vincenzo and Maria. But I think the real Cesar is worth knowing. Luca likes him.’

  ‘He’s easy to like,’ Gabi said, heard the slight undertone of bitterness. ‘He has that natural royal charm that I lack. I’m so...rough around the edges. And the press, the publicity—I find it so hard to deal with. It feels like everyone is waiting for me to do something wrong and sometimes whatever I do is wrong. So, I can’t win.’

  Imogen leant forward, her blue eyes full of both sympathy and empathy. ‘It is such early days. The princes have had their whole lifetime in the spotlight; they’ve learnt how to handle it. As will you. And if anyone can help with that, Cesar can.’

  ‘Sometimes I wonder whether I should simply have stayed home, in Crystal Lake.’

  Her friend’s forehead creased in a frown of concern. ‘You don’t really mean that, do you?’

  ‘No. I guess not. Sometimes, though, it all feels a bit much.’

  ‘Perhaps you should think about making the final cut and sell the book store.’

  ‘Sell it?’ Panic flared. Her book store was her safety net; her back-up plan. The safe haven she still fantasised about a return to.

  ‘Yes. Give someone else the opportunity you thrived on. To make it theirs. Because, in truth, are you really going to go back?’

  Gabi shook her head. ‘I don’t know, Imogen. It could be that in the end I do stand aside, if the people truly revolt. Then Luca will end up on the throne.’

  Imogen shook her head. ‘That won’t happen. Luca believes it is yours by right and he will do all he can to ensure you become Queen. In fact, there is an idea I would like to talk to you about.’

  ‘What idea?’

  ‘Luca feels that his presence here is harming you—it is a reminder to people that he was once heir. But he still wants to show his support to you and Casavalle. He wondered if you would consider him taking on an ambassadorial role abroad for a while.’

  ‘When?’ Gabi struggled to keep her voice steady; the idea of losing her brother and her best friend caused tears to threaten but she knew she had to consider this as a ruler.

  ‘Soon. The plan is to go away for a while now, perhaps get it all set up, and then return for your coronation.’

  ‘You don’t need my permission; I want you and Luca to be happy so, of course, if this is what he wants, I agree.’ And it was the right path—after all, Imogen had always wanted to travel and this would give Luca a chance to experience a whole new life. But the sadness persisted and for some reason an image of Cesar came to mind. A realisation that if she didn’t marry him, he too would leave. Return to his ambassadorial duties. And she wasn’t sure she wanted him to go. She raised her wine glass. ‘To new beginnings,’ she stated.

  ‘And old friendships,’ Imogen said.

  And the two best friends clinked glasses.

  * * *

  Cesar tried to focus on the report; try as he might he kept seeing Gabi’s face instead of the diplomatic words on the paper. A face that looked a little pinched and a little shadowed under the expert make-up. She was playing her part but he could sense her tension, how much it cost her to do so.

  Being royal was tough, and she would have to learn how to carry the mantle but, dear Lord, her vulnerability didn’t sit well with him; he didn’t like to see the doubts in those beautiful brown eyes and didn’t like the knowledge he was responsible for some of them.

  He looked up at the knock on the door and blinked as Luca Valenti walked in, his face dark. ‘What exactly are you playing at, Cesar? With my sister?’

  Cesar raised his eyebrows. ‘Hello to you too, Luca.’ He and Luca got on, but right now Luca was clearly in protective brother mode and Cesar didn’t blame him. Perhaps if he, Cesar, had been a better brother to Meribel, much scandal could have been averted.

  ‘Spare the diplomatic words, Cesar. You will not charm your way out of this one.’

  ‘I do not wish to charm my way out of anything. Sit down. Tell me the problem.’

  ‘What are your plans for Gabi?’

  ‘That is private between Gabi and myself.’

  ‘I do not want to see my sister hurt.’

  ‘I would never hurt Gabriella. For that you have my word. But I will not discuss our relationship with you.’

  ‘I understand that and I believe that you do not intend to hurt Gabi. But please remember that I did not intend to hurt Meribel.’ Luca’s voice was fierce with truth. ‘I would have sworn the same to you.’

  ‘Point taken and understood and I repeat: I will not hurt Gabriella.’

  ‘Then why does she look so tired? She will not talk to either myself or Imogen about it and my mother simply tells me to leave be. That Gabriella is a grown woman.’

  ‘Your mother is a wise woman.’ Though Luca was right, Gabriella did look tired and Cesar needed to do something about it. He sat back and for a moment the two men regarded each other. Then Cesar repeated.
‘I will not hurt her.’ After all, he couldn’t; that was the beauty of not bringing love into the mix. Because where there was no love, there could be no hurt.

  Cesar watched as Luca considered and then he nodded. ‘You will answer to me if you do.’

  ‘Understood. Now relax, have a beer. Tell me your plans.’

  And so the two men settled down to talk.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE NEXT MORNING Cesar entered the Casavallian palace—at Gabriella and Queen Maria’s behest he now had the run of the grounds and was an accepted presence. But today was the first time he had entered the royal kitchens and there was a buzz of interest at his appearance.

  The head chef approached and Cesar smiled at the man known only as Marcello, a chef famed throughout the land, rivalled only by the royal chef Davina of Aguilarez.

  ‘Good morning, Marcello.’

  ‘Your Royal Highness. How may I be of help?’

  ‘First can I congratulate you on your pasta con le sarde at the ambassadorial lunch? It was perfect.’

  The chef beamed at him.

  ‘Next I was wondering if I could take Princess Gabriella’s trolley to her this morning.’

  ‘Of course. It is nearly ready. The papers have been delivered.’

  ‘But first I would like to make a small adjustment. I know she usually has tea but today I would like to make her something different. But I need your help.’

  Ten minutes later, Cesar reached the library, knocked and entered.

  ‘Thank you, Bened—’ Gabi broke off as she saw who had entered, and a smile lit her face, a smile she quickly suppressed.

  ‘Oh. I wasn’t expecting you.’

  ‘But you are pleased to see me.’ His smile held satisfaction and her eyes narrowed, though whether in annoyance with herself or him he wasn’t sure. ‘I am pleased to see you too,’ he offered as he pushed the trolley closer to where she was curled up in an armchair. ‘And I have brought you this.’

  ‘What is it?’

  She eyed the tall mug and turned to him with a question in her eyes.

  ‘It is a double-double,’ he explained. He had done some research and, according to Luca, both Imogen and Gabriella loved this type of coffee, made with cream and sugar at a well-known Canadian outlet. ‘As near to authentic as possible, though Marcello has given it the Marcello touch.’

  Gabi blinked, raised a hand to her eye and then picked up the mug. ‘Thank you. That is really thoughtful.’ Another blink. ‘Enough to make me cry.’ But then a look of weariness touched her eyes and she glanced at the door. ‘Will I need to pose for the press over this romantic gesture?’

  ‘No.’ In truth that hadn’t even occurred to him; the realisation pinged a small message of worry before he dismissed it. A cup of coffee was hardly newsworthy. ‘I just wanted to cheer you up.’

  But he realised that she was no longer listening. Instead her eyes were riveted to the pile of newspapers on the trolley.

  Reaching out, she picked up the topmost one. ‘What the...?’

  Cesar watched as she read, saw the colour leech from her face, and then she looked up and he saw anger sparkle in her brown eyes.

  ‘Show me.’ He held out a hand and she put the paper in it, keeping her eyes on him as he scanned the article.

  Wake up and smell the roses! And I don’t mean a romantic bouquet!

  In the past week speculation and rumour has been rife about the ‘budding’ romance—see what I did there?—between Princess Gabriella of Casavalle and Prince Cesar of Aguilarez. And romance does seem to be blooming—which has made everyone forget that in mere weeks Princess Gabriella plans to take the throne of Casavalle.

  Now, some may claim she is an impostor—but this is technically untrue. DNA and legal proof show that she is indeed the late King Vincenzo’s rightful heir. Morally speaking, though...it is a different matter.

  Let’s look at the facts.

  Fact: Princess Gabriella’s mother, Sophia Ross, left King Vincenzo whilst she was pregnant, without telling him of the pregnancy—if we’re speaking of morality here, this is not moral.

  Fact: The divorce was apparently requested very soon after her flight—King Vincenzo still didn’t know of the pregnancy.

  Fact: King Vincenzo granted the divorce just weeks after the birth of Gabriella, a child he didn’t know about.

  Fact: If he had known he would have granted the divorce as soon as it was requested and Gabriella would not be his heir.

  Even putting aside these facts as easily as Prince Luca seems to have put aside his duties and the throne, we have to question whether Gabriella Ross is fit to be Queen.

  This is a woman with zero training in royal duties, who is the daughter of a woman who had no respect for or understanding of royalty.

  How can Gabriella be Queen? What if she follows in her mother’s footsteps and does a runner when it all becomes too much...? As, of course, it will. Especially if this romance withers and dies.

  So, wake up, Gabriella. Smell the Casavallian roses and then go home.

  To Canada.

  Cesar read to the end and then looked across to where Gabi now paced the library floor, coffee in hand. ‘I wouldn’t take it too personally.’

  ‘How can I not take that personally? She is saying I’m not up to the job and she has twisted the facts to make my mother sound like a terrible irresponsible person and she wasn’t. I can’t let her get away with it.’

  ‘There is nothing you can do. Responding to these articles simply makes it worse. You must read and move on.’

  ‘I can’t.’ There was a crack in her voice and he rose to his feet, headed towards her, took her hands in his and for the first time ever, he felt an urge to call out a journalist, to make her think about the effect of her words. ‘I hate that they are speaking about my mother with so little sympathy. I hate that they are judging me.’

  ‘This article is one woman’s interpretation. She did not know your mother. She does not know you.’ His eyes searched hers for clues. ‘The past months there have been so many articles, so many stupid assertions, ill-conceived, ill-informed opinions in the press. You have ignored them all.’ But perhaps each one had taken its toll, seeped its insidious poison into a woman who was not used to the horrific glare or the ravenous insatiability of public interest.

  She inhaled a deep audible breath and straightened her shoulders. ‘You’re right. Of course, I need to ignore it.’

  But he could still see the hurt in her eyes, sense the effort it had taken to say the words. There was nothing he could do about that; it simply came with the territory and Gabriella would learn to deflect the negativity with time. So he should let it be now...but he couldn’t. Because he suspected there was more to it than she was admitting, because he wanted to see the defeated look in her eyes vanish. ‘Or you can tell me why this article has hit such a nerve.’

  ‘I...’

  He tightened his hands round hers. ‘Maybe I can help.’

  ‘I don’t think you can. Have you ever felt that you can’t do something? Felt helpless, unsure?’

  He recalled the helplessness that bombarded his senses when he saw first-hand the tragedies and the poverty, the senseless violence and the unrest in the world. The frustration he felt when he realised that his parents could only see what was good for Aguilarez, didn’t particularly care about the ‘bigger picture’ he’d tried to explain. When they had vetoed many of his ideas for their country to be more of a force for good.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, now. ‘I have. Truly I have.’

  For a long moment she studied his face, perhaps read the sincerity there.

  ‘Is that how you feel now?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. It is. What if she is right?’ Her voice was small now, tired, almost defeated. ‘Everything she says is true. I have no training, no innate understanding of how roy
alty works. At my presentation ball I know I shocked at least four important personages; every day there is an article that snips or snipes at me. For being too direct. Too Canadian. For not grasping protocol. For usurping my brother’s throne. For being my mother’s daughter. So what if that article is right? Maybe morally I should stand aside.’

  ‘We discussed this—you seemed sure that you had made the right decision, that your brothers and the Queen wished for you to rule.’

  ‘They do, because they believe that it is technically and morally the right choice, the honourable choice. But that doesn’t mean I can do it. And I know that if I stood aside Luca would be an incredible ruler. Perhaps I made the wrong choice, for the wrong reasons. I was so happy to have a family. Perhaps it clouded my judgement.’

  Still holding her hands, he tugged gently and led her to an opulent sofa, urged her to sit and sat next to her, twisted his body so he could see her face. Momentarily distracted by the closeness of her, that vanilla scent, the amber flecks in her brown eyes, he blinked to focus himself. ‘If Luca thought you could not rule, if he thought you would be bad for Casavalle, he would not have relinquished his claim.’

  ‘But what if he is wrong? What if he is seeing what he wants to see?’ The anguish in her voice tore at his chest and for the first time he truly began to understand the enormity of what had happened to her. The extent of the upheaval, the impact on her life.

  ‘I absolutely believe you can do this. In fact I believe you are exactly what Casavalle needs. A breath of fresh air, someone who has not been brought up with all our stuffy rules and traditions. Perhaps you can instil some new traditions of your own.’

  ‘Really?’ Her eyes lit up slightly with a sparkle of hope.

  ‘Really. But it has to be what you want to do. This is a job for life, a role that requires wholehearted commitment to your country and its people.’

  ‘I know.’ She closed her eyes, then opened them again. ‘I’m sorry, Cesar. I didn’t mean to fly into such a fuss.’ She hesitated. ‘I am just a bit emotional. Imogen told me yesterday that she and Luca are leaving Casavalle.’