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
