Their Christmas Royal Wedding Read online

  ‘No.’ Cesar’s reaction had been unequivocal. ‘I will not do that, Father, but I will convince Gabriella to marry me. But I ask you all—’ he’d looked around the room, at his parents and Queen Maria ‘—to leave it to me. I do not want Gabriella to be instructed or coerced or “persuaded” by any of you. We have all seen how wrong that went with Meribel. I will do things my way.’

  So it had been agreed that Queen Maria would not mention the proposed union to her sons or Gabriella. And thus began his first steps towards a ball and chain, the imprisonment of marriage.

  Dark thoughts swirled as he headed towards his car, and then he heard a whinny from the stables nearby. Another spurt of irritation huffed through him; he’d been horrified to learn that in a further ‘gesture of goodwill’ his family had gifted Gabriella two thoroughbred horses, one of whom Cesar himself was particularly fond.

  His objections had been overruled.

  No surprise there, then.

  He remembered his father’s cold, emotionless voice.

  ‘The gift was necessary. If all goes well you will own those horses with Gabriella anyway.’

  His mother, faintly exasperated.

  ‘You are irrational, Cesar. You have hardly even been to Aguilarez these past years. To claim affection for these horses is nonsensical.’

  There you had it: in the Asturias clan if something made no sense it was invalid. Emotions made no sense, hence his parents’ marriage: a cold union, that had nonetheless produced five children. They had been faithful to each other yet not once had he ever seen either offer the other a sign of intimacy or simple affection. No wonder Cesar had vowed from an early age that marriage wasn’t for him, had revelled in his bachelor lifestyle. Made sure he had enjoyed life, ensured every relationship included fun and passion in the short term. Now a similar fate to his parents’ was before him; worst of all he understood that it was necessary.

  A noise intruded on his thoughts, the soft whicker of a horse. Hell—it must be a sign. Perhaps he’d go and say hello to Ferron—nonsensical or not, he was fond of the beast. But as he entered the stables he halted, suddenly sure he wasn’t alone. There had been movement, an indrawn breath, a rustle of fabric. Swiftly he moved forward towards Ferron’s stall, saw the beautiful horse was fine. Noiselessly he moved towards the next-door stall, pushed the door open and stepped inside, all his senses on alert. Could be a saboteur, a horse thief...?

  Surely that was a figure lying in the straw. Hoping to evade detection? Swiftly he pulled his phone from his pocket, turned on the torch, held the light up and blinked; there on the straw lay one of the most beautiful women he’d seen in his life. Long chestnut hair, straight classical nose, high cheekbones. And impossible, nay, criminal, to ignore the length of her slim curvy figure, clad in jeans and oversized jumper, over...he squinted at the cuffs of her wrist...checked flannel pyjamas.

  OK, Cesar. Time to stop staring and time instead to figure out why Gabriella Ross, Crown Princess of Casavalle and his possible bride-to-be, was hiding in a bed of straw.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GABI LIFTED A hand to shield herself from the intrusive beam of light and instantly the man holding the torch redirected the rays to the floor. What to do, what to do? What on earth had possessed her to hide? Stupid, stupid, stupid. The urge to weep from sheer mortification was tempting but she refused to succumb.

  Instead she had to embark on mission impossible to try and salvage even a semblance of dignity. As she looked up at the man, he stooped and held out a hand. ‘May I help you up, Your Royal Highness?’

  Fabulous; he’d recognised her. Any forlorn hope that she could somehow pretend to be a fainting groom faded.

  ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, figuring a hand up would be more dignified than a clumsy scramble to her feet.

  His hand encircled hers, his grip cool and firm as he helped her up and then stood back. She darted a look at him, his face cast in shadows, the torch now by his side so she couldn’t see him clearly. Yet even in the gloom she registered handsome features and the bemusement that etched them. Dark short hair, strong features, firm jaw, tall, muscled body dressed in clothes that discreetly indicated expense. His dark grey woollen coat moulded broad shoulders and to her irritation she felt a sudden surge of...interest.

  Get a grip.

  This man was a stranger in the Casavalle stables; belatedly she wondered if she should be scared. Yet he looked vaguely familiar. Oh, God. Was he perhaps someone she should know? She had been introduced to so many people over the past weeks it was nearly impossible to remember them all, though she was trying.

  But surely she would remember who he was...if she’d met him before... She couldn’t imagine forgetting a man with such a potent aura.

  An aura that was messing with her head, making it whirl and think with her hormones rather than her common sense. Not the behaviour of a queen in waiting; she’d learnt that much. Think, Gabi. He was in the stables at midnight—good chance, then, that he had a reason to be here; something to do with the horses. Perhaps he’d been sent with the gift from the Asturias family, with Ferron and Arya. That would make sense. Perhaps she’d spotted him earlier in that whirlwind press photo and registered his presence. Maybe he’d come in to check on them.

  Doubt flickered in her mind—to be brutally honest he didn’t look like a groom, but she still didn’t understand the hierarchy of how the royal entourage worked. Not that it mattered. The man was connected to the horses in some capacity—she didn’t need to know any more than that. Right now what mattered was that she should stop gawping at him. Royalty did not gawp.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘And...um...sorry about that.’ She gestured to the straw with what she could only hope was a poised rueful smile. Knew it was more likely to be a grimace. ‘I was checking the horses. Sounds stupid but I was worried they may be a little homesick.’

  An arrested look came to his face, and his dark brown eyes flashed with empathy, surely a confirmation that this man must be connected somehow with the horses.

  He smiled at her. ‘That makes sense, or, if it does not, I do understand and appreciate it. But why the straw?’ Reaching out, he pulled a bit out of her hair.

  Gabi was pretty sure there was some royal protocol or other that made the gesture punishable by death. Yet this man made the move seem natural.

  ‘I...you startled me and I just...dived for cover. I hadn’t realised someone else would be coming to check the horses. I’m so sorry to interrupt your work here. Please proceed with your duties.’

  For a fleeting second an expression she couldn’t interpret crossed his face, and then he took the smallest of steps backwards, executed a bow.

  ‘Ma’am. There is no need for you to apologise. These horses are now yours and are yours to visit any time of day and night. I know they will appreciate your care.’

  ‘And I’m sure that they appreciated yours. Tell me, are you their...?’ She allowed her voice to question and he took another small step backwards.

  ‘I have been responsible for them. I stopped by tonight to ensure they have settled in, that they are not, as you say, “homesick”. Soon I will return to Aguilarez.’ He hesitated, studied her face. ‘If you like, before I go, we could take a moonlit ride; you could get to know Ferron and Arya better.’

  Her turn to hesitate now; were royal princesses supposed to go on moonlit rides with strangers? Possibly not...but...her brain scrambled into overdrive, wanting, seeking reasons to justify her instinctive desire to say yes. This man wasn’t a stranger as such—he was part of the Aguilarez entourage. So this could be classed as a gesture of friendliness. Also he must love these horses and probably wanted a chance to have one last ride—it would be unkind to deny him that. And royalty often rode out accompanied by staff, and maybe she could use this as a fact-finding mission. Find out more about the Asturias family before the ball, especially Prince Cesar. And..
.dammit...she wanted to do this. Craved a ride on one of these magnificent animals in the company of this man.

  ‘Thank you. I’d like that. As long as you don’t have to be back...’

  ‘No. I do not need to leave yet.’ He gestured outside. ‘It is beautiful outside but cold—if it is not too presumptuous, I could lend you my coat.’

  ‘But then you’ll be cold.’

  ‘I am used to these temperatures, ma’am; I grew up here. My jumper will suffice.’ With a smile that rocked her backwards he hitched off his coat and handed it to her.

  ‘Thank you, though I suspect I’ll look ridiculous.’ Though perhaps no more ridiculous than she already did, with bits of her pyjamas protruding at wrist and ankle.

  ‘I’ll saddle them up,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll saddle them up,’ she corrected. ‘Which one would you prefer to ride? Ferron?’ After all, he’d gone to Ferron’s stall first—perhaps that was his preferred mount.

  ‘I would like that,’ he said.

  Gabi couldn’t help but observe as he saddled the horse; his actions were deft and fluid as he tucked the stirrups under the saddle, manoeuvred the buckles of the girth—whatever his role he was familiar and comfortable around horses and Ferron seemed more than content. His murmured words and gentle touch demonstrated clearly that he was known to this horse and any minor doubts faded away.

  Soon they had led the horses out and mounted.

  ‘Where to?’ he asked.

  ‘Through the woodlands,’ she suggested.

  ‘Sure.’ As he patted Ferron’s neck and they set off curiosity beset her. Now out in the moonlight she could see him more clearly, saw that his hands were smooth, his clothes definitely expensive.

  ‘So, have you worked for the royal family for long?’

  ‘All my life. You could say it is a family tradition.’ His voice was tinged with a low irony.

  ‘Do you regret it?’ she asked, and he frowned as if he wished he’d not given so much away.

  ‘Not at all, but it is sometimes hard to have your life preordained.’

  ‘I liked that about mine. My old life, I mean.’

  ‘You worked in a book store in Canada.’

  ‘I did more than that. My uncle and aunt owned the store and I inherited it on their death.’ Peter and Bea had passed away within months of each other and Gabi had grieved them deeply. She had loved them and would always be grateful to them for taking her in, for sacrificing their own dream for her. Without them, the knowledge she was alone in the world had been difficult.

  But after a while her natural drive had come into force and she had thrown herself into her work. Kept up with her teaching schedule, where she taught children and adults with reading difficulties, whilst working all other hours to make a success of the bookshop. ‘It may seem like peanuts compared to ruling a kingdom but I loved my shop and it was thriving.’ She could only hope it still was—she’d hired a manager to run it, still called as often as she could.

  ‘And you had no idea of your heritage.’

  ‘None.’ She tried to keep bleakness from her tone, knew she hadn’t when he guided Ferron closer to her, as if his presence could offer comfort.

  ‘Then this must be hard,’ he stated.

  Gabi turned to him, met the directness of his gaze. ‘You are one of the few people to have said that.’ And he was. Many believed that she should be thrilled at her ‘elevation’ to a position of fame, fortune and power.

  ‘Most people have a distorted view of royalty, that it is all about glamour and money and fame. That is part of it but there is a flip side to that coin.’

  ‘Yes...the rules, the...’ Gabi trailed off, suddenly aware that she mustn’t sound as if she were complaining; that would not be within the Princesses’ Behavioural Code either. ‘Differences are hard sometimes. It is an enormous adjustment.’ Change had come, huge, sweeping, terrifying change. Leaning down, she patted the horse’s neck, knew she needed to direct the questions away from her. Because for some reason this man was disconcertingly easy to talk to.

  ‘But what about you? You said you work for the royal family due to family tradition. Surely you’re not bound to them.’

  For a moment discomfort touched his aquiline features, dappled and shadowed in the moonlight that filtered the leafy glade. ‘Tradition is important. My job pleases me...my life is a good one. I did not mean to sound as though I have regrets.’

  Yet somehow she was sure he did and Gabi frowned, suddenly concerned. ‘You know that I won’t tell anyone about this conversation, or say that you have reservations about your work.’

  Now he smiled, the smile warm and full of reassurance and it caused her tummy to flip as he reached out to touch her reins, careful, though, not to touch her and stupid regret coursed through her. ‘I thank you, ma’am, and I assure you too that this conversation is confidential. But I do not fear the Asturias family.’

  ‘Lucky you! I do...’ The words fell from her lips without her intent, meant to be light but she suspected they had wobbled with fear.

  ‘Why?’ Curiosity and a sharpness touched his voice. ‘What have they done?’

  ‘No...they’ve done nothing. It’s me. I am...worried. It’s my presentation ball tomorrow...well, later today, this evening and, to be honest, I’m terrified.’

  ‘Of the Asturias royals?’

  ‘Not only of them. Of everything. If I’d been born to this, I would know what I’m doing. But I wasn’t and I don’t. There are so many things that could go wrong. I could say the wrong thing to the wrong person and spark a political row. I could fall on my bu—fall over, or use the wrong fork, or get spinach stuck between my teeth. I’ll be on display to everyone and I’m dreading it.’

  ‘You have nought to dread. You are royal and, if I may say, you are beautiful—you will dazzle the guests.’

  Her skin heated at the man’s words, because as he said them his gaze lingered on her and she felt a sudden shiver run through her. Of course, she knew he was just trying to make her feel better—she wasn’t beautiful. Her hair was her best feature, long, glossy and chestnut, but she had no idea what to do with it. As for the rest of her, she was ordinary, veering at gawky at five feet eight.

  ‘That’s kind, but I don’t want to dazzle anyone. All I want is to get through without making a fool of myself. I want people to believe I can do this role, can be a queen. And I doubt I’ll be able to convince the Asturiases of that, especially Prince Cesar.’

  Her companion stilled. ‘Why do you say that?’

  Gabi sighed, unsure why she was confiding in this man. Perhaps because she hoped, as a long-term staff member, he would reassure her. According to all she had learnt Prince Cesar had hardly been back home for years, his life a glittering ambassadorial whirl of diplomacy, travel and parties, usually with a beautiful woman on his arm. ‘Apparently Prince Cesar is angered at being recalled home to attend this ball and be presented to me.’

  The man hesitated. ‘I would not trust gossip, ma’am. Prince Cesar is an ambassador. He will not be angered by the need to attend a ball for political reasons—that is his job.’

  Gabi shook her head, suddenly realising she was gossiping. ‘Perhaps he simply doesn’t want to dance with me,’ she said lightly. ‘I have to dance the opening dance with him and he’s probably heard I can’t dance for toffee.’ Another reason to panic.

  ‘I am sure you underestimate yourself. I can see your natural grace from the way you ride.’

  ‘That’s different.’ Yet the compliment warmed her. ‘I’ve ridden since I was a teenager.’ A hobby and a love that had also got her out from under her aunt and uncle’s feet; aware that she had intruded into their life, Gabi had always done her best to give them space, wherever she could. ‘Until I came to Casavalle I never danced, especially not a waltz. Now I have to waltz with a stranger with everyone watching me
.’ The idea made her shiver even in the warmth of his coat. Even worse that it was a stranger who was reputed to dislike her, whatever her companion said. ‘And, believe me, I am the despair of my dance teacher.’

  ‘I believe you will be fine, ma’am. You must have faith in yourself; imagine yourself as you are now. I promise you, if you have the grace and ability to ride a horse such as Arya you can waltz.’

  His voice was full of conviction and she turned to him, felt her heart hop skip and jump at the strength of his words, wished she could siphon off some of that belief. ‘It is not only about the waltz,’ she admitted softly. ‘It’s the bigger picture too; I hope I’ll be able to do my job and act the part of Crown Princess.’

  ‘This is not a role, ma’am. You have no need to act a part; you are the Crown Princess, soon to be Queen.’ His voice, low and vibrant, seemed to ripple off the evergreen branches of the trees and into the silvery moonlit air. ‘This is not a part that can be abandoned at will, it is what you were born to be, albeit unwittingly.’

  For a moment panic descended in a weighty thud and she could almost imagine her shoulders bowed. But she wouldn’t let it show. As if in sympathy the moon scudded behind the clouds and she became aware of the time. ‘We should turn back.’

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He opened his mouth as if to speak and then gave a small shake of his head. ‘No matter. You’re right. We should get back.’

  They rode back in a silence broken only by the soft thud of the horses’ hooves on the turf. But she couldn’t help but study her companion, marvel at the tug of attraction she felt. He was not her type of man at all. The few men she’d dated in the past had all been average, pleasant...safe. This man was none of those. Though he’d been courteous, she sensed he would wield ruthlessness wherever necessary. As for safe—she could still feel the touch of his fingers in her hair as he’d brushed away the straw. Perhaps it was for the best that tonight he would return to his royal duties in Aguilarez; if she saw him again it would be a flash of a familiar face in a retinue.