Their Christmas Royal Wedding. Nina Milne
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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