The Prince's Chambermaid

‘I’m offering love,’ he said simply. ‘How does that sound?’

Cathy couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat, trying to swallow it down, trying to tell herself he was still playing games with her. Yet the look of intensity blazing from the golden eyes suggested the very opposite—she had never seen such a blaze of burning emotion on Xaviero’s face before. Those hard, stern features had softened into the expression of a man who was feeling something, who was calling out to her. And she felt the answering call of her own heart.

But she was scared. Too scared to clutch at something and then find that it had all been some ghastly mistake. And now she needed to be brave—because she could no longer hide behind her feelings, either. She needed to know exactly where she stood—and if the foundations weren’t solid enough, then she would move on. ‘L-love would be enough,’ she said shakily. ‘If…if it was meant.’

He drew a deep breath. He spoke three languages fluently, but in that moment he felt like a child uttering its first words. And he knew that he must make his intentions unmistakable, because this might be his last chance to hold onto the most precious thing in his life.

‘I love you, Cathy,’ he whispered. ‘I love you so much that if you leave me now I don’t know if I could bear it. I love you in a way I never thought I could love—and it’s scaring the hell out of me.’

Xaviero scared? She looked into his golden eyes, and her heart turned over—because wasn’t she scared herself? Terrified. Maybe it was the same for every couple who were teetering on the brink of love, no matter who they were or what their circumstances. Instinct told her to believe him—and something else reinforced that instinct. The same something which had brought her out to his Mediterranean island in the first place.

Faith. But not blind this time—because she could read in his eyes the only thing she wanted from Xaviero. The only thing she had ever really wanted from him. Just love.

Her smile was tremulous but she was having to blink back the sudden onset of tears. The first time she had ever tasted the tears of joy.

‘I believe you and I love you,’ she said softly, and then her head fell to his shoulder and she began to cry.

EPILOGUE

THEY honeymooned in South America, where the lush green foothills of the Andes took Cathy’s breath away. On a sleek white yacht which drifted from island to stunning island off the coast of Brazil, they basked in the sun and sipped caipirinhas as potent as they were delicious. And once, in glorious anonymity, they daringly tangoed on the streets of Buenos Aires, while their security mingled with the crowd, having nightmares.

Then they criss-crossed across vast sweeps of land to track down some of the very finest horses in the world. Cathy had decided that if she was going to live a fulfilled married life with her darling Xaviero—then she wanted to learn all about his passion.

Just as he wanted to learn about hers. For when they returned from their six-month idyll to England, it was to find the hotel transformed into a beautiful home—exquisite in every way except for one thing.

‘They haven’t touched the gardens!’ said Cathy as she stared in dismay at weeds which had encroached even further onto the neglected flowerbeds.

‘That’s because I want you to redesign them,’ said Xaviero softly.

‘Me?’

‘Absolutely you.’

‘But I don’t have any formal training,’ Cathy protested.

His fingers tangled themselves in the golden silk of her hair. ‘Maybe not—but you have a natural instinct and an eye for beauty which no amount of teaching could provide.’ Briefly he touched his lips to hers. ‘I want my polo school to offer scholarships to talented youngsters from all backgrounds, all over the world, Cathy. But I want more than to make them talented riders. I want to bring them here, where they can experience the kind of calm which you weave around you wherever you go. So create a beautiful oasis of a garden, my love,’ he urged softly. ‘A place where people can come and be at home with their senses.’

Cathy swallowed, dizzy with the sense of joy his words always provoked—words which pierced her heart with their beauty. Because with Xaviero’s declaration of love for her, it seemed that a true poet had been liberated.

Even her projected scenario of the press mocking a chambermaid princess hadn’t materialised. It seemed that she had struck some kind of chord and the world was delighted with the marriage. And despite her turning down countless interviews, there were abundant articles on what the magazines were calling ‘The Cinderella Syndrome’. Cathy didn’t mind a bit. She wanted all women to realise that anything was achievable. That it didn’t matter who you were or where you came from—that love truly could conquer all.