‘Perhaps,’ he said—with, she thought, a slight thawing of his frosty demeanour.
‘As Crown Prince and heir to the throne, Tristan is working hard to modernise the royal family and some of their really stuffy old ways of doing things. It’s a big job and he’s getting both Gemma and me involved in it. He’s also become an active advocate for our country’s exports. I wasn’t trained in business, but I’m doing my best to help with the trade side of things.’
Finn frowned. ‘He was trained for it but not you, even as second in line to the throne?’
‘It sounds very old fashioned, I know, but I was brought up to make a strategic marriage to a man of noble birth. Tristan studied law. My older brother studied economics. I was sent to a strict Swiss finishing school. However, once I’d graduated, with straight As in deportment and how to manage servants, I insisted I be allowed to follow my own interest and study architecture in London.’
‘So there’s no career in fashion?’
Again, there was that cynical edge to his voice. Again, she couldn’t blame him.
‘Well, not in the retail sense. However, I do work very hard on my fashion auctions, so that isn’t a total fib.’
‘Fashion auctions?’
She was pleased to see genuine interest. ‘You haven’t heard of them? I don’t suppose you would have. As Princess of Montovia, I’m the patron of several charities—including my own favourite, which works with an international foundation to support the education of girls in developing countries. Long story short: a lot of designer clothes and accessories are only worn once or twice by people like me and my privileged friends. As a fundraiser, I organised an online auction of donated items which was so successful it’s become a regular thing and it’s getting bigger and bigger. We get both donations and bids from all around the world. The charity has really benefitted, way beyond the scope of regular donations.’
‘That sounds admirable,’ he said.
‘I’m proud of it,’ she said.
‘It seems you should be.’ He paused, searched her face. ‘I’m still struggling to make sense of you being a princess. For instance, what do I call you? Natalia? Princess? Your Highness? Is bended knee required?’
‘Natalia is fine. Or Natalie would work too. I am Natalie, Finn. Or I was in Sydney, where I was allowed to be her.’
She couldn’t keep the wistfulness from her voice. It had been a taste of a different life. A bright, flaming light interspersed between various shades of grey, with Finn being the most brilliant of flames.
‘Natalie Gerard told me she was single. What about Princess Natalia?’
‘Notorious for being single. In spite of a lifetime of grooming for wifedom.’
‘Notorious?’
She sighed. ‘Now that you know who I am, I’ll save you the trouble of looking up media reports about the “Heartbreaker Princess”, or the “Bachelor Princess”. I make great copy for the European gossip magazines because I’ve rejected the proposals of six palace-approved men. Actually, seven now. I’ve knocked back another one since I got home from Australia.’
‘Wait. You can’t choose your own husband? He has to be approved?’
Put like that, no wonder he sounded incredulous.
‘Until recently Montovian royalty could only marry spouses with noble blood.’
‘No “commoners” allowed?’ he said, using his fingers to make quote marks and his voice to let her know just what he thought of the term.
She realised how insulting the word was. Another anachronism for her and Tristan to work on.
‘That’s right. But then Tristan used his considerable legal research skills to search the royal archives and discovered that any reigning King could amend that rule. My father was persuaded to change it—the restriction has not made for happy marriages in our family, including that of my parents—so Tristan could marry for love. As it turned out, Gemma discovered she was distantly related to both the English and the Danish royal families, so the change in rule was not needed. I remain somewhat of a test case.’
‘So you’re allowed to marry who you want to?’
‘In theory, yes. In practice, my parents still want me to marry a well-born European aristocrat. In fact, they have to give their permission, whoever I might want to marry. I am, after all, second in line to the throne. You may not know that my older brother Carl was...was killed in a helicopter crash, along with his wife and two-year-old son.’
Her voice hitched. It was still so difficult to talk about the accident, even to acknowledge that it had happened. She didn’t think she would ever get over the loss of the brother she’d adored, his precious little son Rudi, or poor Sylvie, too young to die. One day Carl had been there, acting the bossy big brother, and the next he’d been gone. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to come to terms with it.
‘I’m sorry. I did read about the tragedy in my research on Montovia.’
Natalia took a moment to collect herself. ‘Everything changed. Losing Carl meant I moved up to second in line to the throne. And Tristan had been quite the party boy until then. He had to step up to the responsibility of being Crown Prince and the future King. My parents threw a cordon of protection around me. Suddenly it seemed as though I’d been thrown back to the nursery.’
‘If that was the case, how were you allowed to swan around Sydney by yourself?’
She shrugged. ‘I wasn’t. I could pretend I had absolute freedom, but my bodyguards were always close to hand.’
His dark brows rose. ‘Your bodyguards?’
She nodded. ‘That waiter at the wedding who was hovering solicitously nearby?’
‘I thought he fancied you.’
She shook her head. ‘Just doing his job. As was the chauffeur of the hire car. Both Montovian bodyguards.’
Finn ran his ran through his hair. Natalia ached to smooth it down for him but didn’t dare. She wasn’t sure what kind of reception she’d get.
‘And at your hotel?’
‘They shared the adjoining room.’
Finn’s disbelief and horror was to be expected. ‘You mean they could hear what was going on in your room?’
‘Probably.’
She couldn’t meet his eyes. She had asked her bodyguards not to mention that she’d had a visitor to her hotel room. They liked her. She sometimes thought they felt sorry for her, for the restricted life she had to live in spite of her wealth and privilege. There had been no adverse reports back to her parents. As far as they had observed it had been entirely innocent.
He swore under his breath. ‘It just gets worse.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My recollection of that day is vastly different from yours. It’s like we were operating on two different levels of reality.’
‘I’m still me, Finn.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know you, Princess Natalia.’ He made a credible attempt at a bow. ‘I knew Natalie. I liked Natalie a lot. She was gorgeous and she was fun. Things moved fast with me and Natalie—until she put on the brakes. That was frustrating, but it was her prerogative. We arranged to meet the next day and I went away a happy man. Then I turned up at her hotel, to take her sailing as arranged. Only to find she had checked out very early that morning. She didn’t leave me a message at the desk to explain. No. She just disappeared. Standing there in that lobby, when I realised I’d been stood up in a spectacular manner, wasn’t my finest moment.’
She cringed at the pain on his face. ‘I really am sorry, but I can explain—’
‘Can you?’ He shrugged. ‘After I got over my annoyance—and I admit my intense disappointment—I figured Natalie was a tourist, looking for some no-strings fun. She ran out of time and ran out of town. I’d been played. I should have known better.’
She gasped. ‘It really wasn’t like that.’
But that was how it
must have appeared...
‘So, what’s your version of events?’
She shifted from one stilettoed foot to the other. ‘I... I couldn’t bear to say goodbye for real. I was scared I would break down and spill the truth about myself. Which would have got me into big trouble. I know I’m twenty-seven years old, but my parents aren’t just my parents. They’re the King and Queen of my country and their word is law. Our private jet was there to take me home with Tristan and Gemma. I was obligated to go with them. I wanted to part on good terms with you. So I didn’t tell you I was leaving. It...made it easier.’
She closed her eyes at the image of Finn asking at the hotel reception desk for her, only to be told she’d gone. How must he have felt?
‘Your definition of parting on “good terms” seems to translate as leaving after lie had been piled upon lie.’
‘Guilty as charged,’ she said, feeling inexpressibly sad.
She couldn’t tell him about all that had motivated her without giving away her entire story. She was still a virgin. Her situation hadn’t changed. To make love with him would have come with risks and consequences that hadn’t changed in the three months since she’d kissed him goodbye at the door of her hotel room. Maybe now she might take those risks on board if she got the chance, but maybe duty would still win out.
She realised she could apologise all she wanted for the Natalie Gerard deception, but he would never forget what she’d done.
He would never again believe a word she said.
He looked down into her face, as if searching it for the answers he might sense she wasn’t giving.
‘Loss of face is important to me. You made me look foolish. Not to mention gutted at losing Natalie, who had made quite an impact on me.’ He paused, took a step back from her. His expression hardened. ‘But what happened in Sydney wasn’t really that significant. It wasn’t even a day of my life—or yours, for that matter. You’ve apologised. I’ve put it behind me.’
‘I see,’ she said, feeling as though she had lost for ever something of immeasurable value.
She saw from the set of his jaw that Finn the businessman had taken over.
‘That’s as far as it goes,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing in the contract I’ve signed with your brother that necessitates me spending extended time with you. The business meetings are necessary, but there’s no need for the guided tour. I just want to finalise my business with Tristan and get the hell out of here.’
Mutely, she nodded. ‘Of course,’ she finally managed to choke out.
She looked up at him and recognised the marvellous man she had connected with in Sydney. Finn. Every moment she had spent with him was seared on her memory. But he looked at her and didn’t see Natalie. He saw a stranger who had lied to him, who had made a fool of him. She had hurt him. And he didn’t want anything further to do with her.
She was in a room filled with other people, and the murmur of conversation was rising and falling around her, yet she had never felt so alone.
* * *
Finn felt bad at the Princess’s shocked expression. There was hurt there, too, in those beautiful blue eyes. But he could only get his head around this very odd situation he found himself plunged into by thinking of Natalia as someone he didn’t know.
She wasn’t the woman he had fallen for in Sydney. Not fallen in love with. Of course not. For one thing, he was not a believer in love at first sight—he’d confused infatuation with love with Chiara. But his meeting with the woman he’d known as Natalie Gerard had been something bigger than just a casual hook-up at a wedding.
The fact she lived in another country had been cause enough for him to put the brakes on. However, his time with her had come skidding to an abrupt halt before he’d even had a chance to think about the wisdom of taking things further. This woman—Princess Natalia—was absolutely out of bounds in too many ways to count.
It wasn’t just that she lived on the other side of the world from him, hers was a world where he was considered a ‘commoner’, lacking in status or authority. How could trying to rekindle those Sydney feelings go anywhere? For him a serious relationship—one day perhaps marriage—was all about a partnership of equals, working together to enjoy life together and then, when the time was right, raising a family. Like his parents, his grandparents, his friends like Eliza and Jake.
The sooner he put Natalie/Natalia behind him, the better.
He followed her to the football-stadium-sized dining room, noting the sexy swing of her hips. The sway was not quite the same as the one he’d seen before from her alter ego, as the Princess was wearing a restrictive long gown, but it was every bit as enticing.
He was still having difficulty getting his head around the fact she was 100 per cent Natalie, but the sway when she walked was undeniably hers. The way she’d looked so different in Sydney was a kind of witchery, a modern sleight of hand, magic performed by hairdressers and make-up artists and a princess who was a mistress of the art of dissembling.
The grand Montovian royal dining room, with its soaring moulded ceilings, was decorated like a museum, with priceless antiques, masterpieces on the walls, crystal chandeliers and gleaming gold place settings. Very formal...very European. Wealth beyond the bounds of imagination.
He was not seated next to Natalia, for which he was thankful. He had no desire to revive memories of the last time they had shared a table. It hurt too much to remember how happy he’d been in her company.
Man, had that Kerry woman got her predictions wrong. Her so-called psychic powers hadn’t picked up on a false identity.
Princess Natalia was seated on the opposite side of the table. Close enough so he could observe her, not close enough to talk to her. She was so elegant, so poised, her smile so charming. The lights picked up the diamonds glittering at her ears and her wrists. A real princess. Yet she seemed subdued—as if someone had dimmed the lights on Natalie to result in Natalia.
He noticed she pushed the food around on her plate with her fork, scarcely a bite reaching her mouth. It wasn’t the fault of the food, which was superb. No wonder she was so slender. Natalie had had a hearty appetite.
He would go crazy if he kept comparing them.
His mind finally grasped the fact that Natalia was indeed Natalie, but she seemed like a diminished version of the woman he’d met in Sydney.
He was seated near Tristan, alongside his cousin Marco and his wife Amelie. Over dinner, they talked about their time in the Montovian military, where service was compulsory for all young people.
Tristan had served, despite his royal status, and Marco—a count and high-ranking officer—had met his doctor wife Amelie—a Montovian commoner—while deployed on a peace-keeping force in an African country. They had only been able to marry because of the change in law Tristan had brought about.
It was such a different world to the one Finn had experienced growing up. Again he had the sense that he had fallen into a movie set. Perhaps even a different century.
Just before dessert was to be served, Finn found himself in private conversation with Tristan.
‘Natalia tells me you have politely turned down her services as tour guide,’ Tristan said.
‘Yes, I have to catch up on some work between meetings.’ It was as polite an excuse as he’d been able to come up with on the spot.
‘Would you consider changing your mind?’ Tristan asked.
The guy was a prince and Finn was a guest in his palace. Was this a lightly veiled order?
‘I suppose I could...’ he said slowly, not certain where this would take him.
‘I would appreciate it if you’d spend that extra time with her,’ Tristan said. ‘You see, we’re worried about Natalia. All the family have expressed their concern.’
‘Concern?’
Tristan sighed. ‘She is not herself since she returned from Australia. Almost as if she ha
s disengaged from her life in the palace. She does her duty—Natalia is nothing if not dutiful—but she’s lacking in zest, showing no real enthusiasm for anything, except perhaps her auctions. That’s not like her at all. You must have noticed how thin she has become? That is in spite of Gemma organising special meals to tempt her appetite.’
An unexpected terror struck Finn’s heart. ‘You think she’s unwell?’ He choked out the words.
Her lies, the deception, his loss of face—all seemed suddenly insignificant now he was faced with the possible loss of this woman who had moved him to the edge of both love and hate.
‘Perhaps... I don’t know. I can’t ask her doctor. Even the Crown Prince can’t do that. My sister is an independent person.’
‘But how do you think spending more time with me would help?’
‘It has struck me that the last time I saw my sister laugh was when she was dancing with you at Eliza’s wedding in Sydney. Perhaps you can make her laugh again?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
FINN HAD ARRANGED to meet Natalia, via an exchange of stilted phone conversations, early the next morning at the high, locked wooden gate that opened on to some stone steps leading up to the external walkways and corridors of the castle. As he approached he could see she was already there, her back to him, looking out to the lake below.
She was dressed in sombre colours: dark grey trousers, black boots, a thick wool light-grey jacket, a silver-coloured scarf. Her dark hair swung straight and loose to skim her shoulders, gleaming in the mid-morning sunlight.
Against the backdrop of the towering walls of the castle, the vastness of the lake, she seemed fragile and alone, and Finn remembered Tristan’s concern. He thought about his own realisation that she might be suffering from depression, and felt a surge of remorse at how harshly he’d spoken to her the previous day, when she had tried so hard to be honest with him.
She needed kindness and understanding, not condemnation. He needed to tell her that. Explain his perhaps over-the-top reaction to the startling news about her identity. Make his own apologies.
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