Their Christmas Royal Wedding

She would swear she could feel the colour leech from her face; she, Gabriella Ross, was about to lead a royal ball, a ball in her honour. Crazy didn’t cover it.

‘You’ll wow them, Gabi,’ Imogen said. ‘And we’ll be right behind you.’

‘You’d better be.’ Gabi turned to Cesar, oddly reassured—he would know what he was doing so with any luck she wouldn’t make a complete fool of herself.

‘There is no need to be nervous,’ Cesar said softly as he took her hand and they approached the dance floor, where the orchestra had started the introduction, the melody touching and humming the air with motes of beauty.

‘There is every need to be nervous. I told you last night, this is not my forte.’

‘And I told you last night that you can do this. Plus what I didn’t tell you last night is that I have all the moves!’ As she glanced up at him, he did a disco move reminiscent of the seventies, the move so unexpected that she halted and looked up at him in surprise.

His face creased into a grin and he chuckled and she grinned right back. Suddenly the whole idea of the dance seemed less of an ordeal and as the orchestra began to play, she inhaled deeply. ‘OK. I can do this.’

‘We can do this,’ he said and then they were off.

Gabi focused on his left shoulder, murmured the instructions under her breath, tried to focus on the movements, but it was hard when Cesar was this close. So close his aftershave tantalised her, so close she now knew the muscles were real, hard under her fingers; she could see one errant black curl on the nape of his neck and she bit back a small moan. The feel of his arm around her waist was ridiculously intimate as he guided her with a deft gentleness that made her shiver. And all she wanted was to be even closer; somehow it felt as though the rest of the room, the guests, the noise, had all faded away to leave only them...no one else.

Until the music came to its haunting close and she blinked as if emerging from a dream, became aware of all the other couples on the floor around them, suddenly conscious of the attention they had attracted. Oh, hell! She hadn’t done anything stupid, had she? Drooled all over that beautiful tux, ripped open the jacket...

With as much dignity as she could muster, she managed a smile that she hoped looked cool but friendly. ‘Thank you. Your moves helped a lot.’

This pulled a return smile, but his was way more than friendly and his gaze felt like a caress.

‘Let me get you a drink,’ he suggested. ‘Before you take up your duties. There are many people who you must dance with tonight. But if we don’t get a chance to speak properly again, I hope to see you tomorrow evening. We have much to discuss.’

They did? Gabi watched the breadth of his retreating back, turned to smile dutifully at the elderly gentleman, an English lord, who now approached her. But as she spoke with him her mind and her body dwelled on Cesar and anticipation twisted her tummy at the thought of their next meeting.

CHAPTER FOUR

COUNTLESS HOURS LATER and Gabi looked round the now empty reception room with a sigh of relief and eased her high heels off. ‘That feels better.’

‘Perhaps.’ Queen Maria’s voice held no censure, but it did hold a certain gentle implacability. ‘But you need to keep the shoes on, Gabriella. It is possible that a guest will return, or a staff member enter—it would not look good for you to be seen barefoot, unprepared.’

Human... The thought entered Gabi’s head as she slipped her aching feet back into the pointed, strappy, beautiful torture chambers. It would make her look human. Yet it didn’t surprise her that there was a royal protocol that dictated a sight of the royal feet was taboo.

Maria reached out and placed a gentle hand on her arm. ‘Thank you and you did well tonight.’

Gabi wasn’t so sure; she knew she’d made mistakes, had knocked a glass of water over at the table and she was pretty sure she hadn’t used the correct cutlery. All the while she’d been, oh, so aware of Cesar’s presence; half of her had wished he’d been next to her, half of her relieved he wasn’t. Instead she had spoken with his parents, wondered if she’d imagined the assessment in their eyes, the coldness behind the smiles. It was as if they saw the princess but not the person. But that was true of everyone. Except Cesar. Last night, this evening, he had treated her as a human being.

Now she glanced at her stepmother. ‘Cesar asked me to meet him tomorrow evening.’ A glance at the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room showed her the time. ‘This evening,’ she amended. ‘I wasn’t sure if I should or not?’

‘Do you want to?’ Maria’s eyes met hers and to her annoyance Gabi felt a blush creep over her face.

‘I’m not sure,’ she settled for, which was no more than the truth. Part of her wanted to go, to satisfy her curiosity as to why he hadn’t revealed his identity the night before. Part of her wanted to go because...

You want him to kiss you... that insidious voice whispered at the back of her mind.

No! No! No!

That was nuts. Because Cesar Asturias was not her type of man and no doubt he had simply been flirting with her out of...habit. The man had certainly dated his share of w

omen, all far more beautiful than Gabi.

Maria surveyed her. ‘There can be no harm in meeting him,’ she said. ‘It would show that the two royal families are friends; would demonstrate the Asturias family’s acceptance of your position.’ The Queen’s expression held its usual serene inscrutability but there was something in her eyes, something elusive that Gabi couldn’t read. ‘But that can be done in public. I would not expect you to meet privately if you dislike him.’

‘I didn’t dislike him...’ Now the flush deepened and clambered over her cheekbones. ‘I... I think I’ll meet him.’ After all, she wasn’t going to kiss him and she did deserve an explanation. And she would get to ride Arya again.

The Queen nodded. ‘Now you should get some rest; it is a busy day tomorrow. You did truly well tonight.’