Their Christmas Royal Wedding Page 4

  Gabi nodded, understood the importance of this public meeting of the families. Luca had told her that a few months earlier he and Cesar had gone to see Meribel, and they had all made their peace. But that had been a private meeting; this was a public showing of togetherness, an assertion that neither family bore a grudge, that both families were friends.

  He looked round. ‘But let’s bring Imogen into the mix too.’ He smiled as his fiancée headed towards him, clearly alerted by some mysterious couple radar, and for a mad moment envy tinged with wistfulness touched Gabi. She was happy for her best friend, for her brother, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she could ever find what they had. Could she ever find love, trust that someone would love her for herself?

  ‘Let’s do this,’ Luca said. With smiles and murmurs to other guests they made their way through the glittering, designer-clad throngs together and now Gabi felt lighter, revelled in the feel of being part of a family unit. Reminded herself that she did have support and backup and she was thankful for it.

  They approached Cesar, who was speaking with Queen Maria, and Gabi gulped. Standing beneath one of the magnificent chandeliers, dressed in a tux that moulded his body, showed off those powerful shoulders and that lean, mean, fighting-machine body, he took her breath away. Again.

  As if he sensed it, his dark brown eyes flicked to meet hers and she saw an answering flare there and her insides knotted in sudden desire. And she’d asked him to ask permission to kiss her. Madness—Cesar was not a man to flirt with; she might as well flirt with fire, dance and weave through the flames.

  ‘Cesar. Good to see you.’ Luca’s deep tone was pitched to carry without shouting and Gabi was aware that around them conversations slowed as the two men shook hands. ‘Much has changed since we last met,’ he continued, with a disarming smile. ‘I wish to assure you and your family that I for one have no complaint at all as to how things have played out. I am a very happy man. I have gained a sister and a fiancée I love. Gabriella you have met, but now allow me to introduce Imogen, my fiancée.’

  ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Imogen.’ Now Cesar grasped Imogen’s hand, seemingly oblivious to the buzz around them. ‘May I offer my sincere congratulations and wish you both happiness from myself and my family.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Imogen’s voice was clear. ‘I appreciate that very much. And please tell Meribel we wish her as much happiness as we have found.’

  ‘I will do that.’ Cesar’s smile was courteous; he was clearly appreciative of Imogen’s diplomatic answer. ‘And may I say you will make a wonderful diplomat if ever the urge takes you.’

  At that moment the band struck up and Cesar’s smile changed, as if he’d upped the brightness meter, and he turned to Gabi. ‘My dance, I believe.’

  She would swear she could feel the colour leech from her face; she, Gabriella Ross, was about to lead a royal ball, a ball in her honour. Crazy didn’t cover it.

  ‘You’ll wow them, Gabi,’ Imogen said. ‘And we’ll be right behind you.’

  ‘You’d better be.’ Gabi turned to Cesar, oddly reassured—he would know what he was doing so with any luck she wouldn’t make a complete fool of herself.

  ‘There is no need to be nervous,’ Cesar said softly as he took her hand and they approached the dance floor, where the orchestra had started the introduction, the melody touching and humming the air with motes of beauty.

  ‘There is every need to be nervous. I told you last night, this is not my forte.’

  ‘And I told you last night that you can do this. Plus what I didn’t tell you last night is that I have all the moves!’ As she glanced up at him, he did a disco move reminiscent of the seventies, the move so unexpected that she halted and looked up at him in surprise.

  His face creased into a grin and he chuckled and she grinned right back. Suddenly the whole idea of the dance seemed less of an ordeal and as the orchestra began to play, she inhaled deeply. ‘OK. I can do this.’

  ‘We can do this,’ he said and then they were off.

  Gabi focused on his left shoulder, murmured the instructions under her breath, tried to focus on the movements, but it was hard when Cesar was this close. So close his aftershave tantalised her, so close she now knew the muscles were real, hard under her fingers; she could see one errant black curl on the nape of his neck and she bit back a small moan. The feel of his arm around her waist was ridiculously intimate as he guided her with a deft gentleness that made her shiver. And all she wanted was to be even closer; somehow it felt as though the rest of the room, the guests, the noise, had all faded away to leave only them...no one else.

  Until the music came to its haunting close and she blinked as if emerging from a dream, became aware of all the other couples on the floor around them, suddenly conscious of the attention they had attracted. Oh, hell! She hadn’t done anything stupid, had she? Drooled all over that beautiful tux, ripped open the jacket...

  With as much dignity as she could muster, she managed a smile that she hoped looked cool but friendly. ‘Thank you. Your moves helped a lot.’

  This pulled a return smile, but his was way more than friendly and his gaze felt like a caress.

  ‘Let me get you a drink,’ he suggested. ‘Before you take up your duties. There are many people who you must dance with tonight. But if we don’t get a chance to speak properly again, I hope to see you tomorrow evening. We have much to discuss.’

  They did? Gabi watched the breadth of his retreating back, turned to smile dutifully at the elderly gentleman, an English lord, who now approached her. But as she spoke with him her mind and her body dwelled on Cesar and anticipation twisted her tummy at the thought of their next meeting.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  COUNTLESS HOURS LATER and Gabi looked round the now empty reception room with a sigh of relief and eased her high heels off. ‘That feels better.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Queen Maria’s voice held no censure, but it did hold a certain gentle implacability. ‘But you need to keep the shoes on, Gabriella. It is possible that a guest will return, or a staff member enter—it would not look good for you to be seen barefoot, unprepared.’

  Human... The thought entered Gabi’s head as she slipped her aching feet back into the pointed, strappy, beautiful torture chambers. It would make her look human. Yet it didn’t surprise her that there was a royal protocol that dictated a sight of the royal feet was taboo.

  Maria reached out and placed a gentle hand on her arm. ‘Thank you and you did well tonight.’

  Gabi wasn’t so sure; she knew she’d made mistakes, had knocked a glass of water over at the table and she was pretty sure she hadn’t used the correct cutlery. All the while she’d been, oh, so aware of Cesar’s presence; half of her had wished he’d been next to her, half of her relieved he wasn’t. Instead she had spoken with his parents, wondered if she’d imagined the assessment in their eyes, the coldness behind the smiles. It was as if they saw the princess but not the person. But that was true of everyone. Except Cesar. Last night, this evening, he had treated her as a human being.

  Now she glanced at her stepmother. ‘Cesar asked me to meet him tomorrow evening.’ A glance at the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room showed her the time. ‘This evening,’ she amended. ‘I wasn’t sure if I should or not?’

  ‘Do you want to?’ Maria’s eyes met hers and to her annoyance Gabi felt a blush creep over her face.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she settled for, which was no more than the truth. Part of her wanted to go, to satisfy her curiosity as to why he hadn’t revealed his identity the night before. Part of her wanted to go because...

  You want him to kiss you... that insidious voice whispered at the back of her mind.

  No! No! No!

  That was nuts. Because Cesar Asturias was not her type of man and no doubt he had simply been flirting with her out of...habit. The man had certainly dated his share of w
omen, all far more beautiful than Gabi.

  Maria surveyed her. ‘There can be no harm in meeting him,’ she said. ‘It would show that the two royal families are friends; would demonstrate the Asturias family’s acceptance of your position.’ The Queen’s expression held its usual serene inscrutability but there was something in her eyes, something elusive that Gabi couldn’t read. ‘But that can be done in public. I would not expect you to meet privately if you dislike him.’

  ‘I didn’t dislike him...’ Now the flush deepened and clambered over her cheekbones. ‘I... I think I’ll meet him.’ After all, she wasn’t going to kiss him and she did deserve an explanation. And she would get to ride Arya again.

  The Queen nodded. ‘Now you should get some rest; it is a busy day tomorrow. You did truly well tonight.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Gabi knew praise did not always come easy to the other woman, that she expected a certain standard from her own sons and now from Gabi. But she knew too that she owed Maria so much. The Queen had shown no resentment towards Gabi, the woman who had usurped her own children’s line to the throne. Instead she had gone out of her way to help her, guide her and advise her. On impulse Gabi moved over and gave the older woman a hug. ‘And thank you for everything and the way you have welcomed me to Casavalle.’

  For a second Maria froze, then she relaxed into the embrace, patted Gabi on the back before stepping back.

  ‘It has been my pleasure. I see how Luca and Antonio have taken you to their hearts. And I know your father would have been proud of you.’

  The words caused a lump in Gabi’s throat: the familiar conflict of emotion. If only she’d found her mom’s letters sooner, then she would have met her father. For a moment she brooded on the second letter, the one she had told no one about. The one where Sophia explained that she had wanted to return to Casavalle. Once Gabriella was born she’d realised she had been wrong to flee, that she loved her husband and wanted to work it out, that she wanted to take back her request for a divorce. But then she had discovered that Vincenzo had started seeing someone else, a suitable woman, someone who ‘would be the wife I could never be’, ‘the wife Vincenzo needs’ and so she had decided it would be better for everyone if she remained in Canada.

  Now, as she looked at Maria, Gabriella vowed again never to reveal that letter, knowing it would hurt Maria, impact her memories of a successful marriage, make her play the game of if and but. Gabi knew now too that if the papers got hold of the information they would splash it around with glee, uncaring of who they hurt in the doing.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I so wish I could have met him, but I am so very grateful to you for everything.’

  Knowing Maria would be super uncomfortable if she saw the tears that prickled the backs of Gabi’s eyes, she smiled, blew the older woman a kiss and left the reception room. Hoped sheer exhaustion would allow her to fall into a dreamless sleep that did not feature Prince Cesar of Aguilarez.

  And when they next met she would not be beguiled into flirting, would not be befuddled by the feel of his arms around her and there would be no observers so she would have no need of diplomacy. She would get an explanation for his behaviour.

  * * *

  As the sun set over the courtyard, Cesar crossed the mosaic paving to the Casavallian stables and nodded to the stable hand who was already at work saddling up Arya. He stroked the horse’s nose and then opened Ferron’s stall. ‘I’ll saddle up Ferron.’

  Twenty minutes later the horses were ready and he led Ferron into the courtyard and saw Gabi approaching, in jeans and a short navy-blue padded jacket with a furred hood from which he could glimpse a glint of chestnut hair. And she looked as beautiful as she had in full ball regalia. But today her eyes held a combatant gleam, though her expression softened as she walked up to Arya and patted her neck.

  ‘Good evening.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘I’ve arranged for a picnic to be brought to the maze.’

  ‘The maze? Is that allowed? I thought it was about to be opened to the public.’

  She mounted Arya with an easy grace, leant forward to pat the horse and murmur words in her ear.

  ‘I’ve cleared it all with the palace gardeners, the Queen and anyone else I could think of. I thought it would be nice for you to see it in its festive beauty.’

  As the horses trotted side by side he glanced across at her, tried to read her expression, but she seemed lost in thought and for a while he let the silence envelop them. Sensed that she was revelling in the evening sounds, the cold, crisp, dusky air, the puffs of breath from the horses, the orange red of the setting sun. In the silence after the hustle and bustle of the ball yesterday and her round of engagements today.

  It gave him a chance to run over his strategy, the tactics necessary to win Gabriella. Again, today, his father had made his views clear.

  ‘Make her fall in love with you, Cesar. Turn on the charm for which you are so famed.’

  The idea had been endorsed by Queen Adriana.

  ‘It is the best way. Gabriella is not like us; she will expect the more vulgar emotions.’

  Anger had sizzled through him; Cesar did not believe emotions were a good thing but he wouldn’t condemn them as vulgar. Neither would he lie to Gabriella; to trick her into falling in love with him with promises of an emotion he could not feel was dishonourable. And unlike his parents he did not believe that in this case the end justified the means. It would make for a disastrous marriage and also be an illusion that would be impossible to sustain.

  Cesar hoped and fully intended to achieve his goal in a different way. Yes, he would use charm. Because charm worked. He’d figured that out as a child; it had been a survival strategy. The best way to win over the stream of royal nannies had been charm, cuteness with a soupçon of cheekiness. An acceptance that to them he was a job, not an object of love or affection. Acceptance that they moved on. Cesar could still feel the wrench in his gut he’d experienced when his first nanny had left. Never again. Oh, she’d been nice enough, had been sad to leave him, but she’d still gone. To have a family of her own. Lesson learnt. Charm the nannies to maximise their care of him; smile and the world smiled with you. A cliché that worked, even if sometimes the smiles were fake.

  Perhaps now it was indeed time for a smile, time to start the charm offensive. He shot a quick glance at her, straight backed and poised on Arya’s back. ‘So, did you enjoy last night?’ he asked.

  ‘It had its moments.’ A memory of their dance, how she had felt in his arms, shimmered in the air. ‘But on the whole? Honestly?’ Gabriella shook her head. ‘I felt out of my depth and utterly exhausted. The things that come effortlessly to you, to Luca, are a struggle for me. I’m not used to being the centre of attention and I hate it. The idea that everyone is watching me makes me nervous.’

  ‘You will need to get used to it.’

  ‘I know.’ The idea clearly was not one that filled her with joy and she gave her head a small shake as if to try and dispel the gloom. ‘And I’m sure it gets easier. But it’s not just the spotlight, it’s the public interest; most mornings I read stuff about myself that is either malicious, or untrue, or taken out of context or is surely not of any interest. I mean, how can how I like my eggs be interesting?’

  ‘The press is something you have to accept and in time you will learn to ignore the hurtful and preposterous. You will make connections with positive journalists and learn to use them to your advantage.’ Another example of the way charm and making the best of a situation could be useful.

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ As if hearing her own doubt, she shook her head again and then she frowned. ‘But that’s not what we’re here to talk about. You’re going to explain why on earth you didn’t tell me who you were.’

  ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘I’d still like to know.’

  ‘And I will tell you.’ Deep breath her
e. ‘When I walked into the stable I was annoyed, upset...’

  ‘Why?’

  Well, partly because he had felt the imminence of the metaphorical ball and chain, but that was not something he would share with Gabi. To tell her marriage was anathema to him would hardly prosper his suit and anyway that anathema was now irrelevant. Because he had accepted the necessity and he would make the best of it. ‘Because I had not been consulted about the gift of Ferron and Arya,’ he admitted, and was rewarded by a sympathetic smile. For a moment he felt a pang of guilt, which was foolish, as his words were truthful. ‘Ferron was a particular favourite of mine.’

  ‘I understand that and if you want I will gift him back. Happily.’

  ‘That isn’t necessary.’

  ‘Then please know that whenever you wish to ride him you can. But I still don’t get why you didn’t tell me who you were.’

  ‘Well, my annoyance disappeared as soon as I saw a beautiful woman sprawled on the straw.’

  Again true, and he derived a pleasure from seeing the flush on her cheeks, felt an immense gratitude that they were indeed true, that there was a genuine spark between himself and Gabi, a spark that he believed and hoped would make all the difference to their marriage.

  ‘Fine words,’ she said, ‘but they don’t answer the question. Unless you’re going to try to spin me that my beauty gave you temporary amnesia?’ The words were tart but with an undertone of honey and her lips curved upwards as she spoke, calling an answering smile from him.

  ‘Would you believe me if I said that?’

  ‘Nope. So, come on, no more sugared words.’

  He raised a hand in acknowledgement. ‘To begin with I assumed you would recognise me. Arrogant? Perhaps. But I thought that you would have been studying the Asturias family.’