Astrid gazed into his eyes. “Are you giving me life lessons now, telling me what I need to do, how I need to change my life?” she asked.
“I am. You may be brilliant when it comes to creating a public image, but I just so happen to have far more experience in front of the camera.”
“Are you sure you want to brag about that experience? Are you referring to the drunken pictures of you passed out, or the pictures taken of you in the arms of beautiful women all over the world?”
“Say what you will, but I have spent hours in front of the camera. I could give you a few pointers, if you like,” he said with his characteristic smirk.
“Since we are no longer concerned with creating a public image, I suppose I could be convinced to throw a little caution to the wind.”
“There we are,” said Madame Gasteau, breezing back into the salon. “I hope this is suitable for your celebration.”
The maid brought in a brightly polished tray with a bottle of dark red wine and glasses, a selection of cheeses, fruit, dark chocolate, and crisp crackers.
“Madame, this is exactly what I had in mind. How did you know?” Eric replied with an approving smile.
Madame Gasteau laughed, her voice clear and cheerful. “Wine and cheese, it is impossible to go wrong with that combination, always a classic. Let us toast to your happiness and prepare you for the most viewed interview I will ever do. Perhaps when this is all over you will both be as famous as me!”
They toasted the couple’s happiness and Madame Gasteau’s success; it was an auspicious beginning to the most celebrated interview of the season. After their small party, Madame Gasteau directed the hairstylist and make-up artist to do their best work. Astrid glanced over at Eric, seeing that his aristocratic face and blond hair needed almost no styling or help from anyone.
He was the most handsome man she had ever seen, and he was going to be her husband. When she watched Eric, his easy manner, his ability to charm anyone he came in contact with, she still knew the reason she had fallen in love with him was not his looks. It was not only that he was a handsome foreign prince with gorgeous blue eyes and a sexy accent. Her love for him was so much deeper than that.
She loved that he had an emotional connection to a sailboat, that he loved to sail her, and not just sit back and let a crew do all the work. She loved that he was loyal to people whether they deserved it or not. She thought of Eric’s fun side, which sometimes got him into trouble, and was the perfect complement to her serious work ethic. She loved the intelligence hidden behind the smile that melted hearts all over the world. Eric was more than she thought he was when she first met him, so much more than she had given him credit for.
It was hard for Astrid to believe that once he had only been a job to her, just another prince in dire need of rescue. Did she begin to fall in love when she found out that he was not just the spoiled rich son of a king, as she once believed him to be, but rather a man who had a past and a story of his own, and good reasons for wanting to run away? It was hard for her pinpoint the exact moment it had happened, but somewhere along the way she had fallen head over heels in love with Prince Eric of Rogandal.
The make-up artist finished the final touches as the hairstylist tamed Astrid’s red hair and twisted it into a sleek chignon at the nape of her neck. The hairstyle and the make-up were the perfect complement to the spring dress and low heels that Madame Gasteau had selected for Astrid.
As Astrid joined Eric in the salon she felt a wave of anxiety. She had been in front of the camera many times before at press conferences, but had always represented a royal person. She’d never been in front of the camera when she was not playing a role or speaking as a representative. This would be the first time she would be playing herself.
“Astrid, that dress suits you. It’s different than what you normally wear, more relaxed.” Eric reached for her hand.
“Thank you. Madame Gasteau is trying to soften my image, make me seem more feminine and flirty. What can I say? She knows a thing or two about fashion.”
“Flirty? That is new for you. You’re trembling; are you going to be alright?” he whispered.
“I am, I just don’t want to sound like an idiot and embarrass you,’ she said, feeling self-conscious.
“You, an idiot? Astrid, you are the most intelligent woman I have ever known. You could never sound like an idiot or embarrass me, no matter what you may do,” he said as he kissed her on the forehead. “Come on, let’s go announce our engagement to the world and then we will have a night on the town. What do you say?”
“A night on the town? Isn’t that how you normally get into trouble?” she asked with a wink.
“Yes, come to think of it, it is – but I have you to keep me from ending up drunk, face down in bar somewhere in France.”
“That was the old me. Who can say what this new Astrid will do?”
“Your Highness, Lady Willoughby, are we ready for the interview?” Madame Gasteau asked as she joined them.
“We are. Just remember, you promised us a good interview – no curve balls or trick questions,” Astrid reminded her.
“My friends, trust me. This will be the best interview you have ever done for anyone. If you are pleased, perhaps I may cover the wedding, the dress, the reception, the interview from the honeymoon? It would have to be exclusive.”
“Exclusive, I think we can arrange that. How do you feel about Thailand?’ asked Eric.
“Thailand?” Madame Gasteau asked, looking at Astrid with a quizzical expression.
“We shall have to save that for the next interview. Are you ready?” asked Astrid.
Astrid and Eric were fitted with small microphones by the camera crew, the lights were set and Madame Gasteau sat majestically across from them in a silk chair, her bearing poised. Astrid understood that in this medium, the reporter was a queen, and she and Eric were in her hands.
Hoping for the best, Astrid held Eric’s hand and smiled as the interview began; her stomach quivered with anxiety and she tried to control the trembling of her hands. Eric raised her hand to his lips, lightly kissing the top of her fingers in a reassuring gesture that calmed her. She reminded herself that she didn’t have to bare her soul on French television, she just needed to play a part. Tonight, she was playing the part of the lovestruck future bride of the most handsome bachelor in the world, and it was a part that she did not have to act.
* * *
The interview went better than Astrid had expected. Madame Gasteau had kept her word and only mentioned Princess Serena and any earlier misbehavior on Eric’s part in passing. She treated Eric and Astrid with dignity and respect, as she had promised to do, asking questions about rescuing the contessa at sea, how they fell in love, what they liked about one another, and plans for the wedding. Astrid forgot her nervousness and relaxed as though they were talking with an old friend and not being interviewed for a global news agency.
After the interview, they thanked Madame Gasteau and left in the limousine, heading for the hotel. After being so easily spied upon at the lavish hotel from their last trip to Paris, they chose an unassuming family-run boutique hotel in the heart of the city. The proprietors were not expecting the last-minute reservation for Mr. and Mrs. Smith to be the debonair Prince of Rogandal and his fiancée.
After being assured that the paparazzi would not find it so easy to photograph them at the small establishment, they dashed upstairs to their simple but opulent suite of rooms. It was not an entire floor at a luxurious hotel, but a tiny apartment with a bedroom and a sitting room, with a full bath. As Astrid looked around with a tired sigh, she thought it was just right for them.
After they examined the room and found it to be both romantic and comfortable, a night on the town awaited them. Eric wanted to take her to dinner and then for a stroll along the Champs-Élysées. It was what every other tourist in Paris did and he wanted that – be a tourist with the woman he loved. He promised Astrid that they could even go to a nightclub, if she
was so inclined.
Astrid admired his optimism that they wouldn’t be swamped with paparazzi the moment his arrival in Paris made the news. They were traveling without bodyguards and she hoped that without his entourage, the prince would be safe – not only from the paparazzi, but from kidnappers or other attackers. She thought of discussing the dangers of traipsing around Paris on their own, but she didn’t want to ruin the evening.
Eric kissed her before they left their room, his lips trailing along her neck. “We should hire Madame Gasteau to do our shopping for us in the future, that dress is made for you,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
Astrid snorted. “It likely was! And I doubt it was only generosity, her allowing us to keep these clothes. If we are to be famous, the designs we’re wearing will be in high demand by tomorrow morning. All we have to do is be photographed wearing them; isn’t that how it works?” asked Astrid.
“You are sexy when you discuss publicity and work, especially in that flirty little dress,” Eric said as he kissed her neck, making his way to her shoulder.
“We could stay in. I’m not sure what kind of room service is available here but I imagine they could put something together for us,” said Astrid as she closed her eyes, melting into his arms.
“We will be staying in – after a night in the city of lights, a romantic evening with just the two of us. We’ll have a late night and a lazy morning, just me and you, some coffee, and hours spent in bed together.”
“That sounds delicious,” she answered as he slid the strap of her dress down and kissed her shoulder.
“If I continue, we won’t have dinner. I’m starved for more than food, but I will save you for dessert,” he said with a naughty wink.
“How do you make silly seem so sexy?” she asked as he gazed into her eyes.
“My darling, I make everything look sexy,” he purred. “Come on, we don’t want to miss a minute in the city of lights. By tomorrow morning we’ll be the most famous couple in the world. This may be the last night we can get away with being young and wild.”
Eric held out his hand and opened the door of the suite. Astrid put her hand in his and they walked out of the room, down the hall, and into the night.
It was a warm evening. The lights of the street lamps and windows burned bright, lights from bistros and businesses sparkled, and the lights from the Eiffel tower drew Astrid’s attention up to the skyline.
As the limousine made its way along the streets of Paris, she experienced a feeling of joy that could only be described as a mixture of excitement and love. She was in Paris with the man she loved. They didn’t have to hide their love anymore, so it was a feeling – and a night – she would always remember.
Eric was more familiar with Paris than Astrid could have imagined. They dined at an intimate restaurant privately owned by a chef, which only seated twenty people. Inside the restaurant, the elite of Paris could enjoy delicious dishes in a private, polished wood and brass bistro. After dinner Eric invited her to walk along the most famous street in Paris, the Champs-Élysées, holding hands and laughing as they went unrecognized in the shadows among the other couples sharing a romantic evening together.
Eric tried to persuade Astrid to go to a club but she wanted to spend the remainder of the evening alone in his company. She had been to Paris many times before, but this was the trip, the evening, that would always live in her memory.
The next morning, Astrid woke before Eric. She rang the front desk to inquire about room service. The woman who owned the hotel, Madame Devernaux, cheerfully informed her that breakfast would be sent up momentarily. Astrid was expecting a pot of tea and a few pastries, but the proprietress provided a pot of fresh coffee and a pot of tea with heavy cream, pastries, eggs, sausages, and fresh fruit with the morning newspaper.
Eric, roused from his sleep by the delectable aroma of fresh coffee, reached for Astrid and kissed her. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she answered with a smile as she picked up the newspaper from the tray.
“Your Highness, shall I pour coffee or tea for you?” he teased.
“Coffee, if you don’t mind, but until we are wed I am still only a lady,” she answered absently, as her eyes were drawn to the front page. “Eric, look!”
Eric looked at the headlines and the picture splashed across the newspaper. In French it exclaimed the single word Engagés! A picture of Eric and Astrid seated on Madame Gasteau’s couch holding hands and smiling stretched across half the page.
“My dear, we are famous. You are famous, and who is that handsome man seated beside you?”
Astrid scanned the article and under the report saw a picture of the contessa, her story of a daring rescue at sea crowded the front page for attention.
“Eric, we can hide no longer; our secret is out. We have rated the front page here in Paris.”
“Yes, and such a romantic secret it was. Shall we get married while we are in Paris?”
Astrid imagined an intimate ceremony in a small chapel, her dress plain but elegant, Eric handsome as ever — but she knew that princes did not marry in small ceremonies, not unless they were no longer in the line of succession.
“Eric, I would love nothing more than to get married here, but we have some unfinished business to attend to. We have to return to Rogandal and settle the question of who will be the next ruler once and for all, then we may plan our wedding.”
“And our lives together,” said Eric as he kissed her.
* * *
Their arrival in Paris had been easy and low key; a limousine met them at the airport and after a small amount of paperwork at customs, they’d entered the city quietly and without fanfare. However, since the interview with the contessa aired and their engagement was announced, Eric and Astrid were met by a crowd of paparazzi and admirers on the streets of Paris as they were leaving.
Eric’s notoriety had softened into a well-received popularity since his vindication in Grenada, but even his innate ability to command the press’s attention did not rival the fanfare they received now as an engaged couple. Astrid scrolled through the internet news agencies, the tabloids and celebrity sites. She was astonished by the phenomenon that they as a couple managed to achieve overnight.
They were lauded as heroes, lovers, and their story was widely thought of as a Cinderella story, capturing the imagination of the world. Astrid was perceived as a quiet, mysterious English lady who had stolen the heart of the hottest royal in the world. As she read the headlines, she noticed a conspicuous lack of coverage of Eric’s sister, her elopement with her own prince not as interesting to the world as Eric’s engagement.
As Astrid and Eric left Paris in their private jet, Astrid wondered what awaited them in Rogandal. Eric had defied his father by refusing to marry the Jordanian princess. She thought of Eric’s choice to run away to Freja rather than follow his father’s orders. As she considered the king’s reaction, she was certain that they could expect a cold reception at the palace. Astrid thought of telling the pilot to stay with the plane for a quick exit out the capital after Eric’s father disowned him.
Trying to remain optimistic, she did not talk to Eric about their return to the palace. There was no need to discuss the repercussions of their choice to boldly defy the king’s orders – she and Eric both knew what awaited them. Her biggest hope for Eric was closure. After this trip home, he could finally begin his own life, free of the demands of his father.
For too many years, Eric was racked by guilt that he didn’t live up to the standards of being king, a responsibility he didn’t want, and one he didn’t believe he would ever be ready for. After his decision to break with his father, and concede that the succession was subject to the will of the king, Astrid noticed Eric seemed happy, even content. Returning to Rogandal would test Eric one last time but he needed to take responsibility and she was counting the minutes until they could begin life as married couple, at peace together.
It was mid-afternoo
n when the plane touched down at the Rogandal airport. A limousine with the flags of the royal family waited on the tarmac, and cars filled with bodyguards were positioned in a motorcade. It was more security than she’d ever seen in Rogandal. She did not consider that to be a good sign.
Astrid braced herself for what was going to happen, hoping the Eric she loved would be strong enough to handle the rejection that was certainly awaiting them. Eric had talked about leaving all of this behind, disappearing from public life, and putting the people of his country in the hands of his sister. When that moment came, Astrid wondered if he’d ready for it. Holding his hand tightly, she prayed she had the strength to weather the coming storm with him as they climbed into the back of the limousine.
The motorcade slowly made its way through the city as throngs of citizens lined the streets, signs held above their heads. Banners flew in the breeze, and Eric’s picture was plastered on storefronts. Images of Eric and Astrid together decorated signs held in the hands of young and old. The city was decorated as though for a parade, or a festival celebrating their prince. In her lifetime, Astrid had only seen this kind of adoration at a Royal wedding.
“Eric, do you see all of this? How did they know you were returning to Rogandal?”
“How does anyone find out anything? Rogandal is a small country and the plane had to file a flight plan.”
“The banners, the posters, what do you make of this? Are your people genuinely happy to see you marry a foreigner?”
“My dear, you are not truly a foreigner. Your mother did serve as my mother’s lady-in-waiting. Never forget that to these people, you are as much a citizen as each one of them.”
“They seem genuinely glad to see you; they adore you,” she replied.
“They adore us. They want to see us married, to see their wayward prince finally settle down.”
“And you, do you want to settle down?” asked Astrid
“I can think of nothing in the world I want more than to be at your side, to settle down with you,” he answered as he kissed her.
Taming the Rebel Prince: The Royals of Rogandal Page 22
