Falling For The Secret Princess. Kandy Shepherd
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she said.
She didn’t like to lie. But she’d promised her family not to blow her cover to anyone, in case of leaks to the media. Princess Heartbreaker in disguise at a wedding would be the kind of thing they liked to pounce on. So lie she must—though she’d rather think of it as tactical evasion.
Thank heaven for the English-born tutor married to a Montovian woman who had taught her perfectly accented English from the time she’d started to speak her first words. She also spoke impeccable German, French and Italian, with passable Spanish. So for today she would be English.
‘Do you live here?’ Finn asked.
She shook her head. ‘Sadly I’m just visiting on vacation. I wish it were longer. Sydney is fabulous.’
‘Spring is a good time to visit,’ he said.
‘Yes, it is,’ she said. ‘I’m loving it here.’
Just plain Natalie, a tourist, had spent the last three days riding the ferries, visiting the beaches, taking in a concert at the Opera House. She’d revelled in her freedom and anonymity—even though her two bodyguards were always at a discreet distance. As they were here now, masquerading as waiters.
Perhaps Finn had snagged the champagne from one of them. She was so used to the constant presence of household staff and bodyguards she scarcely noticed their presence.
‘Where do you live in England?’ Finn asked.
‘London,’ she said.
The royal family had a house in Mayfair, where she’d lived for a while when she was studying. Until the paparazzi had snapped her staggering out of a nightclub after one too many cocktails and she’d been recalled in disgrace to the palace before she’d been able to finish her degree in architecture.
‘Whereabouts in London?’ he said. ‘I visit there quite often.’
No need to get too specific... Natalia chose to answer the second part of his question instead. ‘What takes you to London?’
‘My import/export business,’ he said.
Which could, she thought, mean anything.
‘What do you do?’ he said.
Nothing she could share with him. Being Princess of Montovia was pretty much a full-time role. She wasn’t allowed to be employed—rather had thrown herself into charity work.
Her main occupation was with the charity she’d started, which auctioned worn-once designer clothes and accessories donated by her and others in her circle to benefit her particular interest—the promotion of education for girls wherever they lived in the world.
Her online fashion parades and auctions had taken off way beyond anything she’d anticipated. Donations of fashion items now came from wealthy aristocrats and celebrities from all over Europe. Bids came from all around the world. The administration was undertaken by volunteers, so profits went straight to where they were needed. She was proud of what she had achieved through her own initiative. But that had nothing to do with Natalie Gerard.
The fact was, she’d been destined for a strategic marriage rather than a career. Especially after the tragic accident nearly three years ago that had robbed Montovia of her older brother Carl and his family, and pushed her up to second in line to the throne after Tristan, now Crown Prince.
Her life had changed radically after the tragedy, with her parents now obsessed with maintaining the succession to the throne. She’d had to work within their restrictions, not wanting to add to their intense grief in mourning their son and two-year-old grandson, still reeling from her own grief, not to mention the outpouring of grief throughout the country.
But she was beginning to weary of doing everything by the royal rules. She wanted her own life.
She couldn’t share any of that with Finn. Instead she aimed for impartial chit-chat. ‘I work in fashion,’ she said.
That wasn’t too much of a stretch of the truth. Organising her high-end fashion auctions was a job, if not a paid one.
‘Retail or wholesale?’
‘Retail.’
Her role often required several changes of formal clothing a day. That involved a lot of shopping in the fashion capitals of Europe. In fact, that had kicked off her idea for the auctions—she and other people in the public eye were expected by fashion-watchers to appear at functions in a different outfit each time. That meant expensive garments were often only worn once or twice.
‘You fit the part.’
His eyes lit with admiration as he looked at her simple sheath dress in a deep rose-pink overlaid with lace. It wasn’t silk, but it was a very good knock-off of a French designer whose couture originals took up considerable hanging space in her apartment-sized humidity-controlled closet back at the palace before they were moved on to auction.
‘Thank you,’ she said, inordinately pleased at the compliment. ‘What do you import and export?’ she asked, deflecting his attention from her.
‘High-end foods and liquor,’ he said. ‘It takes me all around the world.’
She nodded. ‘Hence your work with Party Queens?’
‘Exactly,’ he said.
She finished her champagne at the same time he did, then placed her glass on the wide veranda railing. Someone would be along to pick it up.
But Finn reached for it. ‘I’ll put that glass somewhere safer,’ he said.
Mistake, she thought as he took the glasses and placed them on a table just inside the doorway. Regular girl Natalie would not be used to household staff picking up after her.
Finn was back within seconds. ‘Tell me, Natalie, are you here with a partner?’
He glanced at the bare fingers of her left hand—without realising he did so, she thought. She did the same to him. No rings there either.
‘No partner,’ she said.
‘Good,’ he said, with a decisiveness that thrilled her.
‘Either here at the wedding or in my life.’
‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘Single. Never married.’
Her spine tingled at this less than subtle trumpeting of his single status. She was single and available too. For today.
Maybe for tonight.
‘Likewise,’ she said.
This handsome, handsome man must be thirtyish. How had such a catch evaded matrimony?
‘D’you think they’ve put us at the singles table for the meal?’ he asked.
‘I have no idea,’ she said. ‘I... I hope so.’
‘If they haven’t I’ll switch every place card in the room to make sure we’re seated together.’
She laughed. ‘Seriously?’
‘Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I want to sit with the most beautiful woman at the wedding?’
She laughed again. ‘You flatter me.’
He was suddenly very serious. ‘There’s no flattery. I noticed you as soon as you walked across the grass to take your seat. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.’
She could act coy, not admit that she’d noticed him too, flirt a little, play hard to get... But she’d never met a man like him. Never felt that instant tug of attraction. And time was in very short supply.
‘I noticed you too,’ she said simply.
For a long moment she looked up into his eyes—up close a surprising sea-green—and he looked down into hers. His gaze was serious, intent, totally focused on her. The