The Prince's Chambermaid

Distractedly, she shook her head. ‘I don’t want to sit down!’

He let that go. For now. Was the frustration of being apart so much getting to her as much as it was to him? If that were the case, then he would forgive her discourtesy—but she would have to learn soon enough that he would not tolerate being spoken to like that. Not even by his wife. ‘Something has upset you?’

‘I won’t change my name!’

He laid down his fountain pen and studied her, a nerve beginning to work in his cheek. ‘You have interrupted my busy morning schedule to talk to me about a name?’ he questioned in disbelief.

Couldn’t he see that it was more than just the matter of a name? That she was left feeling like a puppet which was having its strings jerked—and that now even her identity had been torn from her? ‘I won’t change it, Xaviero.’

‘It is not a question of choice. You must.’

‘Must?’

Compliance had been one of the main reasons he had selected her as his wife—but she was displaying none of that compliance now. Xaviero’s mouth hardened. If she was to learn the hard lesson of obedience to her royal husband, then was it not better she did so as soon as possible?

‘Yes, must,’ he bit out, ignoring yet another phone sending out its silent, flashing demand. ‘Which part of the word don’t you understand?’

Cathy flinched. ‘Am I…?’ She was aware that her voice was trembling—but that was less to do with her sudden sense of powerlessness and more to do with the gleam of quiet fury which was emanating from the golden eyes. ‘Am I allowed to know why?’

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she had pushed him into a corner and she would learn not to do so again. ‘Because Catherine is the name of a possible future Queen, while “Cathy” is the name of a—’

She swallowed as the great gulf of inequality stretched between them like a black chasm. ‘A chambermaid?’

‘Precisely.’ He saw the aquamarine eyes begin to take on a suspiciously bright glitter and he felt a momentary wave of irritation. His brother might be dying and she was making a fuss about a damned name? Appeasement did not come easily to him, but with an effort he sought to embrace it now. ‘Look,’ he said, in as placating a tone as he had ever used. ‘Catherine is a very pretty name. It suits you. Is it such a big thing to ask?’

Maybe it wasn’t—but Cathy was already reeling from the list of ‘dos’ and ‘don’ts’ she’d been given by Flavia. Don’t stand up unless you want the entire room to follow suit. Don’t spend too long in any line-up. Don’t forget that everyone who tries to make your acquaintance will have their own agenda—and will try to use their royal connection to better themselves. But the one which had scared her the most was: Don’t trust anyone without first running it past the palace. No wonder Xaviero was so cynical.

She had spent the morning with a dress designer who had been unable to hide her faint surprise when she’d seen Cathy’s existing clothes—before revealing her planned designs for her new, royal wardrobe with the air of a magician producing a rabbit from a hat. And Cathy had looked at all the different clothes she was going to need with a sense of wonder. The brand-new outfits she would require when she took her place in royal life would have excited the heart of most young women. But she was left wondering whether all traces of the real Cathy were going to be completely eradicated by her makeover. And now this.

‘Maybe I would have liked to have been consulted about the name change before it was decided,’ she said, in a small voice.

‘And you will be in future,’ he assured her suavely. ‘I promise.’

She felt like a child being placated with a spoonful of sugar after an unexpected dose of particularly nasty medicine. It seemed so long since Xaviero had actually touched her. And wasn’t that part of the trouble—that she was left feeling insubstantial, as if she didn’t really exist any more?

‘And I really want to kiss you,’ she said boldly.

He felt the hot jerk of arousal as he got up from behind the desk and advanced towards her, his face darkening with frustration. ‘You think I don’t? You think I don’t lie awake at night realising that you’re on the other damned side of the compound surrounded by guards? Why, I am so hot for you that I hardly dare trust myself in your company,’ he groaned, before pulling her into his arms and kissing her with an intensity which made him think very seriously about locking the door.

Instantly, she began to melt beneath the seeking heat of his lips—feeling the warm pooling of her blood, the faint tremble of her knees. ‘Xaviero,’ she breathed against his mouth. ‘I want you.’