Their Christmas Royal Wedding

‘No, I wouldn’t.’ There was no point dressing this up. ‘But you aren’t.’

Her forehead creased in another frown and she narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I get that. My point is you would be proposing to whoever was sitting this side of the table.’ Abandoning the crumbs, she pushed her plate away, picked up her glass and sipped the champagne. ‘You would have set this up for any woman, kissed any woman, regardless of who she was as long as she was the next ruler of Casavalle.’

‘No.’ Now Cesar shook his head. ‘That is not true. I set this up for you. I wanted you to see the maze in all its Christmas magic, I wanted to ride here at sunset with you. And I definitely wanted to kiss you.’

‘But you would have tailor-made a different evening for a different woman.’

‘Perhaps. But at the end of the day this is about you and me.’

> She shook her head. ‘This is about the Prince of Aguilarez and the nearly Queen of Casavalle. Not about Cesar and Gabi. As I said, you would never have proposed to Gabi Ross, book-store owner.’

‘No.’ Again there was no point in muffling the reality of their situation. He kept his gaze on hers. ‘But I would have been attracted to you. I would have wanted to kiss you. The spark between us—that is real, that is between you and me. Gabi and Cesar. And that is important.’

‘There are other things that are more important,’ she said.

‘I agree. And I realise I have sprung this idea on you, that you need time to process it. All I ask is that you consider what I have said today.’

‘I promise I will think about it.’

‘I can’t ask more than that.’ Indeed he couldn’t. He topped up their glasses and raised his. ‘To good thoughts,’ he said. ‘Now let us finish our meal—the selection of desserts is amazing. We can eat them in the moonlight and simply talk about other things. And then I will escort you home.’

* * *

The next morning, seated in the splendour of the palace library, her favourite room in the whole palace, the one where she felt most at home, Gabi prepared herself for her usual morning routine. A cup of tea by her side, curled up in an ornate overstuffed armchair, newspapers and netbook on the table in front of her, she fervently hoped that an imposition of normality could somehow balance out the surrealism of the previous evening. Cesar Asturias wanted to marry her. Cesar Asturias had kissed her. Gabi closed her eyes as her entire body tingled at the memory.

Enough. That kiss had meant nothing to Cesar—it had been a sampler, a proof that their marriage would contain a spark. He would have kissed any woman like that—he was an expert after all. Though just after, for an instant she would have sworn his eyes held a look of shock that no doubt mirrored her own. But then he’d blinked and she’d decided she must have imagined it.

Especially when he’d smiled the slow, satisfied smile of a man who knew he’d scored a winner. Which was when reality had doused her like a downspout of freezing water—the kiss might have been completely outside Gabi’s experience...but not out of his.

Cesar Asturias was a man with a whole lot of experience in the kissing department, and she would not let herself be manipulated into marriage based on one expert lip lock.

In which case perhaps she should stop thinking about the damn kiss, and brace herself for her morning dose of the headlines.

Two minutes later she gave a muffled shriek as she absorbed the words, stared at the newspapers’ headlines, at the netbook screen open to the celebrity pages. Shock rippled through her.

Royal Romance in the Air?

Could This Be Love?

A Private Picnic?

Diplomacy or Dalliance?

The accompanying photographs were even worse. Pictures from her presentation ball. Her and Cesar in conversation, her expression fierce. Then that waltz, her face tipped up with an intent look, as if her life depended on him. Then the actual article, nauseating paragraph after paragraph of speculation as to how a rocky start had led to a dance of dreaminess.

Then there were pictures of the picnic hampers being driven to the ‘rendezvous’.

Sources confirm a romantic supper ‘à deux’ was requested by the clearly besotted Prince.

Besotted. Ha! When she got her hands on the ‘sources’ she would—

At that moment there was a knock on the door, it swung open and one of the palace staff entered. ‘His Royal Highness Prince Cesar of Aguilarez,’ he intoned.

Ah...the besotted Prince himself, looking anything but.

‘Thank you, Leo.’ She waited until the staff member had gone and then, ‘Have you seen these?’ she demanded.

‘Yes. I came straight over so we can discuss a publicity strategy.’