Their Christmas Royal Wedding Page 3

  They arrived at the stables; he dismounted with a lithe grace and headed towards her to help her alight. Hurriedly Gabi removed her foot from the stirrup and swung her leg over the horse’s back. Too hurriedly as it turned out. The horse shook her head and pranced. Caught in the length of the borrowed coat, Gabi lost her usual balance and with a muttered curse slid in an ungainly fashion from the horse.

  Was caught in a firm hold that steadied her whilst also sending her pulse rate into overdrive. She could smell his aftershave and the woodsy smell made her dizzy. She could feel the hard muscle of his body against her back, his arms around her waist.

  For a heartbeat they remained standing there and then he released her, stepped back and she turned. Their eyes caught and he cleared his throat; dark brown eyes seemed to sear into her own. ‘I should have remembered...to warn you... Arya always gets a bit spooked when you dismount.’

  ‘It’s OK. I should’ve known to take more care with a horse that doesn’t know me.’ Her voice too breathless as awareness swirled around them. He was so close she could reach out and touch him, so close that if she took a step forward and stood on tiptoe she could kiss him...

  As if his mind travelled the same path his eyes darkened and desire sparked and ignited. ‘Your coat,’ she managed, through lips that seemed parched. Quickly she shrugged out of it, handed it over.

  ‘Thank you.’ Another stretch of silence and then, ‘You had better get back in. I will tend to the horses.’

  ‘Thank you for the escort and the midnight ride.’ She wanted to say more, knew she couldn’t. After all, she could hardly ask for a repeat date.

  ‘You’re very welcome, ma’am. And, truly, you have no need to worry about the ball tomorrow. You will dazzle everyone, including Prince Cesar. I know it.’

  ‘Th...thank you.’ Her brain seemed to be on auto repeat, because in truth their bodies were talking a whole different language. As if propelled by her hormones alone Gabi stepped forward, saw the man’s eyes glance to her lips then back up to her face. For a second she thought he was going to kiss her, felt her lips part and her eyes close in sheer toe-tingling anticipation. Tried to grab onto common sense—princesses did not kiss strangers in the palace stables.

  As if he recalled the same, he held out his hand, took hers and, lifting it to his lips, he kissed it. The old-fashioned gesture sent a shiver down her spine, and she wanted, yearned to take the initiative, step forward and cup his face, brush her lips against his.

  But she couldn’t. She mustn’t. Because she was the Crown Princess on the morning of her presentation ball. So she did nothing.

  ‘Goodbye, ma’am.’

  ‘Goodbye...’ As he headed to the stables she watched him walk away, realised she didn’t even know his name, wondered if she would ever see her mystery man again. Not, of course, that he was hers... That would be ridiculous.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CESAR ENTERED THE glittering ballroom, which was resplendent with Christmas glory. Two enormous, magnificently decorated trees shone and twinkled and filled the air with the scent of pine and festivity. Lit chandeliers hung in illuminated splendour from the vaulted ceilings. Wreaths adorned the walls, and the arches and pillars were festooned with trails of greenery. Cesar walked behind his parents, flanked by his older brothers and their wives and his younger sister Flavia. The united front of the Asturias family had scrubbed up well: his mother’s ash-blonde hair sported the famous Asturian diamond tiara, her ice-blue gown was elegant and an echo of her eyes; his father and brothers looked supremely regal in their tuxes, their wives suitably designer-gowned and all gracious smiles. Flavia nudged him in the ribs. ‘I feel sorry for poor Princess Gabriella. We look like an invading force for all our smiles.’

  Now guilt pulsed as he remembered Gabriella’s expressed fears, the dread she felt at the prospect of meeting the Aguilarez royals. Dammit—he should have told her who he was last night, offered reassurance. But once he’d realised she had no clue as to his identity, he had been unable to resist the opportunity to discover more about the real Gabriella Ross. He had little doubt she would have presented a very different side if she’d known the truth. Now at least he knew there was a spark of attraction, a base to build from. He’d sensed that from the moment he’d seen her sprawled in the straw; known with satisfaction, by the end of the moonlit ride, that the spark was mutual.

  Anyway, there was no need for guilt; he had sent a letter of explanation so she wouldn’t be taken by surprise. He suspected she’d be hopping mad but as a queen-to-be she would have to school herself to mask the emotion in public. Cesar did realise that a furious woman was not the best start to Campaign Marriage but his plan was to use the ball to advance a charm offensive.

  ‘Cesar.’ His sister’s hiss pulled him back to the ballroom. Dignitaries and officials lined the walls, awaiting the all-important presentation that would indicate to the world that Meribel’s actions and the arrival of a new ruler had not affected the alliance between Casavalle and Aguilarez.

  His parents advanced slowly down the deep gold and blue carpet laid on the marbled floor towards where the House of Valenti awaited. Now Cesar’s gaze was drawn unerringly to Gabriella and his breath hitched in his chest. The beauty that had poleaxed him the previous night was now on full display.

  Her dress was an incredible concoction of elegance. Black and white, wide skirted, with an intricacy of lace and embroidered flowers over a white tulle. The straps were made of delicately shaped flowers that skimmed the creamy skin of her shoulders and Cesar’s throat parched. Her chestnut hair fell in loose waves around a face of classic beauty, though he could see a shadow in her brown eyes, a tension in her smooth jawline. As she greeted his parents, he heard the murmur of her Canadian-twanged voice, the words a little breathless, a little rehearsed, the smile slightly strained, but overall she held up well and he found himself applauding inwardly. Next his brothers and now it was his turn.

  Deep brown eyes raised to look at his face, the automatic greeting started, ‘Welcome your...’ then her voice trailed off, those brown eyes widened in shock and he realised in that instant that the letter had not reached her, decided that his hapless aide was toast. ‘What are you doing h...?’ Now her eyes narrowed as she put two and two together and he could see the anger dawn, heard the buzz of interest begin to hum round the room.

  Cesar bowed. ‘It is an honour to meet you, Your Royal Highness,’ he said. It might be against protocol to interrupt but he knew it was better than allowing her to continue.

  Gabriella looked down and then back up again and he could see the effort it took her to speak through no doubt gritted teeth. ‘And you...it is a pleasure to see you here. I know your ambassadorial duties are heavy and I’m very happy that you were able to make it in honour of our countries’ continued friendship.’

  The words reeled off and only a slight flush on the angles of her cheekbones denoted her discomfiture as he moved on and she greeted Flavia. Cesar could only hope the damage had been limited, though he had little doubt the slip would be analysed, dissected and leaked to the gossip magazines worldwide.

  Part of this was his fault, he knew, but Gabriella would need to learn to mask emotions and feelings if she was to survive the royal world.

  ‘Cesar, what was that about?’ His father’s tone was cold, and with rueful grimaces his brothers melted from his side. ‘The Princess looked less than happy to see you.’

  ‘I believe she simply got confused, Father.’

  ‘Please remember what was agreed.’

  Ordered more like, Cesar reflected as he kept a filial smile on his face and accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

  ‘You are to woo the Princess, not antagonise her. This marriage is important and we are trusting you to do the best for your country. As your mother and I did.’

  And are you happy? The words withered on his lips—there was no unive
rse where he could ask his parents that. They quite simply would not comprehend the question. To them it was an irrelevance—they had done what was right; it would have been unthinkable to do otherwise. Happiness didn’t come into it. Oh, God—was this what he was doomed to? No. His marriage would be loveless but he would not let it be so cold and passionless and unfeeling. Couldn’t live like that or ask anyone else to. Easy words. Once the knot was tied there could be no escape.

  But there was no choice and his father was right. If he wanted to make this marriage possible and, more importantly, make it work, he did need to woo Gabriella; and he had to admit the courtship had not got off to the best start.

  Time to regain lost ground and tread carefully on it; all eyes would be on them, watching every move. Gabriella was standing in a small group with Queen Maria and a couple of dignitaries, who she listened to with courteous interest.

  He approached and, aided discreetly by Queen Maria, soon they were left alone, or as alone as it was possible to be at such a function. Her brown eyes glinted with anger but to her credit she managed a thin-lipped smile. ‘Your Royal Highness. I hope you’re enjoying yourself.’ The words held more than a hint of bitterness. ‘And my discomfiture.’

  ‘Of course I am not enjoying your discomfiture, rather I would like to apologise for my part in this situation. I did send a letter of explanation but it appears you didn’t receive it.’

  ‘A letter?’ Her voice was low, though her lips remained upturned. ‘How thoughtful.’ The sarcasm trembled her tone and as subtly as possible he manoeuvred them towards a garlanded pillar, hoping to shield her from view. ‘It didn’t occur to you to use something more...up to date? Like a phone. Or perhaps even turn up in person.’

  ‘I was aiming at discretion.’

  ‘Well, you missed your target.’

  ‘Clearly. But here and now you have to do better than this. You need to look as if this conversation is enjoyable. People will have noticed that our greeting was strained.’

  ‘I’m not an award-winning actress.’

  ‘Then you need to learn. Fast. Part of being royal is an ability to wear a mask.’

  ‘Well, clearly I am not royal enough. Why? Why didn’t you tell me who you were?’ She lifted a hand to her cheek. ‘I am so angry and so mortified I could...’

  ‘Could what?’ His tone was low but harder now. ‘Ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for? You told me this ball was important. For you and for your country. As it is for mine. If you don’t want to blow this you need to pull it together. This is political now—if the public or the press believe we are fighting this will have ramifications on our two countries. Do you understand?’

  Dear God, this was not going to plan but he needed her to get it and she did; he saw the understanding touch her eyes, watched her expression smooth to a semblance of serenity. She inhaled a deep breath and nodded. ‘Fine. You’re right. I understand.’

  ‘Good. And, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I truly do apologise.’

  She shook her head, but the smile on her face made the gesture appear casual. ‘You let me make a fool of myself.’ Now guilt touched him as he remembered again how worried she had already been about the evening.

  ‘No! Gabriella. You didn’t.’ Without even meaning to he put a finger under her chin, tilted her face up so she looked directly into his eyes. And he saw the pain but also saw how hard she tried to conceal it. Remembered that until recently Gabriella Ross hadn’t even set foot in Casavalle; she had not been brought up to mask emotions and play a role. And he had no right to expect her to.

  He, Cesar Asturias, ambassador extraordinaire, had screwed up and now he needed to fix it. ‘I swear it.’ He would not have her undone for his own fault. So, ‘Smile. Look at me as if you like me.’

  ‘I’ll try.’ She sighed and the sheer weariness in that breath touched him, as he understood just how hard this was for her.

  ‘You liked me yesterday. I am that same man.’

  ‘No. You aren’t. You are a prince, not an employee; you lied to me. Misled me, duped me, whatever term you wish to use.’

  ‘I kept my identity from you and I truly apologise for that. It was a mistake. But everything else I said was true, was real. Think back to my words. None of them were lies. Not one.’ He waited as she bit her lip, studied his expression.

  ‘Not one?’ she asked softly.

  ‘No.’ That he knew. ‘I promise.’

  Perhaps she heard the sincerity in his voice. In truth, for the past few minutes he had forgotten that they weren’t alone, had wanted her to believe him with a fierceness that was out of proportion. Disquiet touched him and he dismissed it. It was vital he win her over, or the chances of her considering his suit were minimal. That explained the ridiculous swathe of relief when she gave a small nod and smiled a small but this time genuine smile.

  ‘For the sake of this evening and for the man I met last night I will give you the benefit of the doubt. But I wish that letter of explanation had reached me.’

  ‘Perhaps I could explain in person. Tomorrow. We could go for a ride.’

  ‘I have engagements all day.’

  ‘At the end of the day, then. We could have a picnic supper; leave the details to me. Meet me at the stables.’

  As she hesitated, he suspected he knew the cause, knew he was right as he saw her lips twist half in rue, half in exasperation. ‘I understand you need to check before you accept—that is part of royalty. Sometimes simple decisions have ramifications.’ He also knew there would not be a problem. If she asked Queen Maria, consent would be granted—after all, Queen Maria had agreed this marriage would be a good one, though had stipulated she would not force Gabriella into it.

  ‘If it is the genuine wish of both, and they both believe they can have a happy life together, then and only then will I believe that this will work.’

  Gabriella nodded. ‘I’ll confirm with you later. And now I must mingle. I mustn’t neglect my guests.’

  ‘You are right. But remember the first dance is mine.’

  Worry-laced panic now skimmed her expression and without thought he took one of her hands in his, gave a quick clasp of reassurance. ‘I promise it will be a dance to remember,’ he said. ‘And, Gabriella?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I told you I didn’t lie and I did not. When I told you that Prince Cesar would be dazzled I was telling the truth. You look beautiful and I am truly dazzled.’

  Now she looked adorably confused, her nose crinkled and her blush deepened. ‘As if...’ she muttered.

  ‘I swear it. If there were not so many people watching I would prove it to you.’

  ‘How?’ Her voice was wary.

  ‘I’d kiss you.’ He smiled. ‘Or I would ask permission to.’

  ‘I... I... I...’

  ‘What would you say?’

  Suddenly she returned his smile; an impish dimple appeared in her cheek. ‘Why don’t you try me and see?’ Clearly seeing that she’d wrong-footed him, she allowed her smile to morph into a small triumphant chuckle and he found himself laughing too. ‘Now I really must mingle.’ And with a look over her shoulder she glided away.

  * * *

  Had she really said that? Had she lost the plot along with the royal rule book? Gabi resisted the urge to go and hide behind a Christmas tree, to give herself a chance to regroup and figure out what had just happened. But she couldn’t; the royal ship needed to continue its regal sail. So she had to overcome the fluster and somehow rein in her thoughts, hide the tumult going on in her brain and her body.

  Her mystery man was Prince Cesar Asturias and by rights she should be furious at his deception. Especially when he’d had the temerity to tell her she needed to pull herself together. Problem was he’d been right. She had been livid, hurt, angry, confused...and she’d been showing it. Royal rule
number one: show no emotion.

  And then somehow Cesar had got past her fury, because the apology in his brown eyes had been sincere and so too had been the glint of admiration. Dazzled, that was what he’d said. And that was all it had taken; she’d metaphorically melted into a puddle and flirted...practically promised to kiss him. Cue mental eye roll. Was she that much of a pushover?

  Enough; she would banish Prince Cesar from her mind and focus on what she should be doing. Creating the right impression, making all these people believe she had it in her to rule.

  And just like that the crushing weight of responsibility, the fear she’d mess this up, returned. The strangeness of wearing a ball gown, the unaccustomed shoes, the splendour of the room itself threatened to overwhelm her. But somehow she summoned the royal smile, the one practised in front of the mirror until her cheeks ached, as Queen Maria approached her, with yet another person by her side to introduce.

  An hour later and, ‘You OK?’ She turned to see Luca at her side and she smiled, relieved to see her eldest brother, a man who understood all this.

  ‘I’m fine, maybe a bit overwhelmed.’

  ‘You’re doing great.’

  ‘At looking the part.’

  He shook her head. ‘This isn’t about looking the part, or playing a part. You are a princess, Gabi, and you will be Casavalle’s Queen.’

  ‘That’s what Cesar said.’ Gabi regretted the words as she saw Luca study her expression.

  ‘Sounds like you got to know each other fast.’

  ‘Yes.’ Gabi pushed away the urge to confide; the relationship between the Valentis and the Asturiases was complicated enough. She didn’t need Luca to get involved or fire up on his sister’s behalf.

  ‘Well, he’s right, Gabi. You can do this. You’ve got this.’

  ‘Thank you. To you and Imogen. For having my back.’

  ‘That’s what family is for, Gabi. And now you have a family. To support you.’ Luca smiled at her. ‘So let’s show some Valenti-Ross solidarity and build on what you have started with Prince Cesar. I have spoken with his older brothers and his younger sister already. Now let’s go get some more publicity.’