Santina's Scandalous Princess

Carlotta let out a sad little laugh. ‘I was, I suppose.’

‘But I was selfish. I know that.’

‘It was a long time ago.’

‘Still. I just…wanted to be honest.’ Even if it hurt. She wanted to change, and she didn’t know how else to begin.

‘What’s going on, to provoke all this honesty?’ Carlotta asked, a faint thread of humour in her voice.

‘Nothing,’ Natalia said quickly, and then let out a little laugh. So much for honesty. ‘I’ve met someone,’ she finally said. ‘Someone who’s challenged me.’ As she spoke the words, she realised just how true they were. ‘Someone’s who’s changed me,’ she whispered. And who hurt me.

‘Changed…?’ Carlotta sounded surprised, but also happy. ‘Are you engaged as well, Natalia?’

Engaged? ‘No…’ Of course Carlotta would jump to that conclusion. They’d always known they would marry men of their parents’ choosing. Only last week her mother had shopped her in front of several dignitaries representing possible future husbands. How could she forget that even for a moment? It didn’t matter what she felt for Ben. She had her royal duty. It didn’t matter what Ben felt or thought—or what he didn’t. They had no future.

‘Natalia?’ Carlotta prompted, interrupting her thoughts that swirled like leaves falling to the ground, withered, dry and dead. ‘Who is this person?’

‘Just someone,’ she said, and the words sounded so final. So awful. She closed her eyes, felt fresh pain surge through her that almost sent her to her knees. ‘Just someone,’ she repeated in a whisper. ‘No one important.’ No one, she thought with an overwhelming ache of sorrow, who could be.

CHAPTER TEN

BY Monday morning Natalia didn’t feel any better inside, but at least she felt back in control. She’d taken care of her appearance, using all her hair and makeup tricks to disguise her reddened eyes and sallow complexion. Amazing what a weekend of moping did for your looks, she thought wryly as she applied bronzed blusher to her cheeks. She glanced in distaste at the sports shorts and T-shirt she would have to wear for a day on the football pitch. What she’d really like to wear, she thought, was her exclusively designed wrap dress in royal blue silk and a pair of four-inch heels. It would act as her armour; in it she’d be indestructible. Instead she was left with this useless PE kit.

By the time she arrived at the stadium, the children were already out on the pitch. Her gaze instinctively honed in on Ben’s tall, lean form, and she watched as he demonstrated some incomprehensible maneuver to a cluster of rapt children. He called one boy out of the crowd: Roberto, a young, scruffy-looking boy of about ten whom Natalia had noticed had a natural athletic talent. He picked up the new move now with ease, and she saw Ben grin his approval. Her insides twisted unpleasantly. She didn’t think Ben would be smiling much at her.

‘You’re late,’ he told her a few minutes later. The children had divided into pairs and he’d come and found her at the registration table, where she was mindlessly organising pens and papers into neat piles.

‘Traffic,’ she said without looking at him. She’d hoped to gain some of her flirty confidence back when she saw him again, but it was too hard. All she could remember was the blazing look he’d given her before he’d pulled her to him and kissed her senseless. Tears stung behind her lids and she blinked them back furiously.

‘Fine,’ Ben said after a moment. ‘Why don’t you be goalkeeper?’

She jerked her gaze up. ‘Goalkeeper?’ So kids could kick the ball at her all day? Was this Ben’s warped idea of somehow getting her back for that kiss?

He raised his eyebrows in cool challenge. ‘You have a problem with that?’

‘Of course not,’ Natalia said sweetly. How could she think she was falling in love with someone and want to stab his eye out with a pen at the same time? ‘Why would I?’ she asked him. She put the pen in the jar with the others. Taking a deep breath, she headed across to the goal area.

The next few hours were a test in both physical and emotional endurance. Although Natalia had improved her own football skills somewhat in the past week of volunteering, she wasn’t yet adept enough to avoid getting hit repeatedly by the ball as she attempted to block it. The children cheered her on good-naturedly, and she forced herself to smile and laugh even though she was aching all over, inside and out. Ben didn’t even look at her once.