The Prince She Never Forgot (Harlequin Romance)

by Scarlet Wilson

  Ruby didn’t hesitate. She slid her arm next to the Queen’s and joined her in walking towards the door.

  Isabelle’s smile had stayed on her face. ‘Beautiful earrings, Ms Wetherspoon. They seem familiar. Queen Marguerite had exquisite taste, didn’t she?’

  Ruby’s heart squeezed inside her chest. She knew. She knew Alex had given them to her to wear this evening.

  They walked through the door arm in arm.

  The glass doors from the ballroom leading out to the gardens were open, letting the cool fresh air sweep in. Ten years ago New Year’s Eve in Paris had been cold, but winter in Euronia was much warmer. People drifted in and out of the ballroom and the gardens as the music played.

  People were curious about her now. Alex appeared by her side every ten minutes or so, introducing her to diplomats and other royals. They shook her hand and gave her guarded smiles. The celebrity guests were much more up-front. Apart from her earlier encounter with Maria Cochette, everyone else seemed to want to be her new best friend. It was odd. Perhaps it was the fact that Alex had kissed her in front of everyone. His message had been clear.

  The scene that everyone had expected in front of Sophia’s parents hadn’t materialised. When she’d re-entered the ballroom on the arm of Queen Isabelle some mouths had dropped open. Even Alex had looked a bit shocked, but he’d covered it well.

  His hands had appeared at her waist a little later and his mouth at her ear. ‘What did you do?’ he whispered.

  ‘I told the truth,’ she said simply, and he’d twirled her around in the next dance.

  The evening passed by in a flash. She didn’t even notice when the King and Queen of Leruna slipped away—she was too busy focusing on Alex.

  He was more attentive than ever, leaving her in no doubt of his attentions. Every tiny brush of his fingertips on her skin ignited the fire within her. Every time he caught her eye, or gave her a smile from across the room, she felt as if she were the only person there.

  When finally the last person left her feet were throbbing and her jaw was aching from smiling so much.

  Alex appeared at her side and took the champagne glass from her hand. ‘Are you tired?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t want this night to end.’

  He took her hand in his and led her up the huge curved staircase and along the corridor towards his rooms. Their footsteps quickened as they walked, their anticipation building.

  He swung the door of his apartment wide. She’d never been in here before. Alex had always been around her and Annabelle in their rooms, or in the main parts of the palace. She’d had no reason to visit his rooms.

  The room was stark. Different from the other very ornate rooms in the palace.

  No antique furniture. No sumptuous furnishings. It was white and black—like a modern apartment in the middle of New York—certainly not what she expected to find in a pink palace.

  ‘Alex?’

  She turned to face him and her heart squeezed at the expression on his face. These were the rooms he’d shared with his wife. He didn’t need to say anything. Everything in this room had been stripped bare—just like his heart. She understood in a heartbeat.

  She closed the door quietly behind her and stepped over to him. ‘Oh, Alex...’

  She ran her fingers through his hair as he closed his eyes.

  Everything—all their conversations—had been about her being ready. But the truth was it was about him being ready too.

  Part of this was painful. Because after tonight she’d never been more sure about what she wanted. It was Alex. It had always been Alex. It would always be Alex.

  But did he really want her? Or was she just someone to plug the gap his wife had left?

  It should unsettle her that these were the rooms he’d shared with his wife. It should make her feel uncomfortable. But she had a feeling that there wasn’t a single part of Sophia left in here.

  Her fingers were still running through his hair—his hands were planted firmly on her hips. She stepped closer to him and placed a gentle kiss on the soft skin at the side of his neck.

  ‘Are you ready for this, Alex? Are you ready for us?’

  * * *

  Every knot inside him was beginning to unravel. He’d held himself in check all night. From the first second he’d seen Ruby in her red dress he’d wanted to have her in this position. She was everything to him. And now he was finally free to say it—finally free to let the world know.

  The arrival of Sophia’s parents had been more than unexpected. They were always invited to formal occasions at the palace. But since Sophia’s death they’d never attended.

  They saw Annabelle on regular occasions, but they were always private times.

  He’d been horrified when they’d arrived—horrified that their first view of Ruby was in his arms with his mouth on hers.

  With a few hours’ hindsight he realised that Queen Isabelle must have heard through the grapevine about Ruby. They’d attended with the sole reason of meeting the woman who might replace their daughter in his affections.

  Isabelle had always known the truth of their relationship and their marriage. But she’d supported them both every step of the way. She’d once told Alex that there were lots of forms of love. Some with fireworks, some with steady steps, and some with bonds of loyalty that would forsake all others.

  The King had mentioned nothing of Ruby at all. He’d spoken to Alex at length about business worries and difficult negotiations.

  When Alex had watched Ruby and Queen Isabelle leave the room together he’d felt sick. Should he intervene? But he’d been almost sure that Ruby wouldn’t want that.

  And when they’d returned some time later Queen Isabelle had been serenely graceful, as always, when she’d told Alex that Ruby seemed like ‘a nice girl’.

  His sense of relief had been enormous.

  And now here they were. In the one place he’d wanted to bring her all night.

  ‘I’ve been ready for ten years, Ruby,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Her brown eyes were fixed on his. Just like that night in Paris. The only thing missing was the reflection of the fireworks.

  Ruby... Every bit as beautiful as she’d been ten years ago. Those brown eyes seemed to pull him right in, touching his heart and his soul. For the first time in ten years he was free to love exactly who he wanted to love. He had the strength and the power of his convictions and he knew what was right for him and what was right for his child. Who was right for him and who was right for Annabelle.

  Ruby might not be Annabelle’s mother, but her patience and affection for his little girl was clear. Their relationship had changed exponentially. Ruby spent hours playing with her, not just assessing the little girl. Trust had built between them. When Annabelle smiled at Ruby and looked at her in that way she had, it made his heart melt.

  His little girl was every bit as much in love with Ruby as he was.

  He ran his fingers along her velvet skin, from her fingertips to her shoulders. She gave a little shudder of pleasure as she smiled at him. When his fingers reached her shoulders he swept one hand along the back of her neck and traced the other gently across her décolletage. His fingers stopped mid-point as she closed her eyes and swayed a little. The curve of her breasts was highlighted in the figure-hugging dress. If Ruby knew who’d actually designed it for her, and how much it had cost, she would probably be horrified.

  His hands joined at the back of the dress, where he caught the zipper in his fingers and started to release it slowly. She was holding her breath as he inched it lower. The shimmering red fabric slid from her frame and puddled on the floor at her feet as he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her against him.

  Kissing Ruby before had
been tantalising. Magical. Full of expectations and promise.

  Kissing Ruby in his room as he shucked off his jacket and trousers was more than he could ever have imagined. He walked backwards, pulling her with him as they sank down on to the white bed.

  The eiderdown enveloped them both. He’d dreamed about this for the last ten years. But the reality was far more incredible than his imagination could ever have envisaged. And he could envisage quite a bit.

  He pulled his lips back for a second as his fingers brushed against her underwear. ‘Are you sure about this, Ruby? Because there’s no going back. This has to be right for both of us.’

  She was holding her breath again, fixing him with her chocolate eyes. His fingers danced along her silky-smooth skin.

  Her perfect red lips broke into a smile as she pressed against him. ‘This is right, Alex. This has always been right.’

  And then she kissed him again and he forgot about everything else.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PEOPLE WERE LOOKING at her. People were fixing their eyes on her and muttering under their breath. She’d been in the shops in the city centre on lots of occasions recently but she’d never noticed this.

  Even Pierre in the baker’s shop wasn’t his usual friendly self. He hardly even made eye contact before he handed her a brown paper bag of baked goods and waved his hand at her attempt at payment.

  It made her feel uneasy. She might not speak fluent French, but she’d always muddled through and felt welcome in Euronia before.

  This morning had been so strange.

  The thing that she’d secretly dreamed about for such a long time had finally come true. Waking up in Alex’s arms had been fantastic.

  Stealing along the corridor with her dress clutched around her hadn’t been quite so fantastic. But she hadn’t been sure if any of the staff—in particular Rufus—might routinely go into Alex’s room to wake him.

  There was still so much about the palace protocols she had to learn. And last night she hadn’t thought to ask Alex about any of these things—there had been far too many other sensations occupying her mind.

  It had seemed so much easier to duck out and get back to her room to shower and dress. But once she’d got ready her stomach had begun churning again.

  On one hand she’d wanted to go back to Alex’s room. On the other she’d wanted to give him a little space. And yet they had to talk about what would happen next. About Annabelle. About Sophia’s parents. All the things they hadn’t really focused on last night when they’d been in each other’s arms.

  She loved him. She was sure of it. She just hadn’t told him yet.

  Maybe tonight they would be able to re-enact the whole thing. Maybe she could tell him then. But the truth was as soon as Alex had started kissing her everything else had gone out of the window except the feel of his body pressed against hers. The touch of his fingers on her skin. The sensation of his lips on her neck...

  The newspapers outside one of the nearby shops fluttered in the wind. Something caught her attention. It was the colour on the front page. The exact colour of one of the dresses in her wardrobe back at the palace.

  Her feet were drawn automatically. Her hand was pushing back the fluttering pages.

  Princess Ruby?

  The words leapt out at her and she jumped backwards on the pavement. No. It couldn’t say that. Her heart was pounding in her chest. What on earth...?

  She stepped forward again. Pushing the front page back and scanning the page. It was totally in French. She couldn’t understand what was written at all.

  But she really didn’t need to understand. The picture said it all.

  It must have been taken a few months before—just after she’d arrived. She and Alex were sitting at the café and her bright pink dress was fluttering around her—just as the newspaper pages were doing today.

  But it was the moment that the picture had captured. That second when Alex had leaned forward and cradled her cheek. He was looking at her as though she was the only person in the world and she was looking at him exactly the same way.

  That moment had literally been the blink of an eye. A tiny, private fragment of two lives captured for eternity for the world.

  And it had changed everything.

  It was printed alongside a picture from the ball. Ruby in her long red dress with diamonds glittering in her ears.

  Some eagle-eyed journalist had found and printed a picture of Alex’s mother wearing the same earrings years earlier.

  She couldn’t understand any of the words that were written. But she could understand the panic clamouring in her chest.

  No. Just when things between her and Alex seemed to be heading in a perfect direction.

  What was happening between them was private. It wasn’t for the world’s consumption. She felt indignant. She felt angry. She felt stupid.

  Alex was a prince—at some point would be King.

  This would always be the life of whoever he showed interest in. She was a fool to think otherwise. And this was exactly what he’d tried to warn her about.

  She leaned back against the newspaper rack, breathing heavily. She was seeing tiny stars in her peripheral vision. People were staring at her and whispering. Her phone started to ring and she grappled with her bag to pull it out.

  It was a number she didn’t recognise. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Ruby Wetherspoon? This is Frank Barnes from Celebrity News. We’d like to interview you.’

  ‘How did you get this number? This is a private number.’

  ‘We’d like to know about your relationship with the Prince Regent and the recent photos that have been taken of the two of you together. We understand that you’re working together. But it looks a whole lot more personal than that. Would you like to do an exclusive with us?’

  Every word sent a chill down her body. For a few seconds she couldn’t even speak. Then, ‘No. Don’t phone again.’

  She disconnected the call and looked around her. Alex. She had to talk to Alex.

  Her phone started to ring again. Another unknown number. She pressed the button at the top, switching the whole thing off.

  She put her head down and her legs on automatic pilot, walking back to the palace. She resisted the temptation to break into a run.

  The warm sun was usually pleasant, but her face felt flushed and she could feel the sweat running down her back. The usually enticing smells from the delicatessen, the baker and chocolatier made her stomach flip over.

  All she wanted to do was talk to someone—talk to Alex. Talk to Polly. Talk to anyone—anyone but a journalist.

  Her legs were burning. The warm air didn’t seem to be fully filling her lungs. There it was in the distance—the pink palace. She reached the gates and crossed the gardens quickly. The driveway had never seemed so long.

  When she finally reached the palace entrance the doorman barely glanced at her. Was that a sign of something?

  As she stepped into the hallway she was aware of the absolute silence. Usually there was always noise from somewhere—talking servants, discussions between visitors, footsteps from people going about their daily business.

  Today the whole palace seemed silent.

  She turned on her heel and headed for the library. If she’d had an ounce of common sense about her she would have purchased one of those newspapers. Instead she was reduced to doing an internet search.

  The amount of hits made her cringe. How many?

  Her eyes widened as she read, and tears formed in her eyes as a horrible feeling of dread crept over her skin.

  Pictures really did speak a thousand words.

  If Alex had any doubt about how she felt about him, once he’d glanced at these pictures he—and the world—would know for sure.

  If she was an ordinary gir
l, in an ordinary world, this might seem quite nice. The looks and glances in the pictures were reciprocal. She wasn’t just fawning over him. Their gazes were locked together—as if, for that second, they were the only two people on the planet.

  Little moments, captured in time.

  Tears started to roll down her cheeks. She’d tried to be so careful. She’d tried to be guarded. She didn’t want the whole world to know that she’d loved Alex de Castellane for the last ten years. It had taken her long enough to admit that to herself.

  Things were good between them right now. Things were great. Annabelle was showing real signs of improvement. And Alex...

  He was showing real signs of moving on. Really moving on.

  Last night had been wonderful.

  She clicked on another link. This time it was a red-top newspaper from England. It carried the same photographs as the others. But the text took her breath away.

  Vitriol. Libel.

  Ruby Wetherspoon had been plotting to get her hands on Alex de Castellane for years. She’d come to Euronia purely with the purpose of trapping the world’s most eligible bachelor into marriage. She was a devious woman with money on her mind.

  No mention of Annabelle. No mention of her job.

  She clicked on the next link. An exclusive from Maria Cochette, telling of how Ruby Wetherspoon had laughed at the way she’d tricked Alex into giving her his mother’s diamond earrings and said it was only a matter of time before she got a whole lot more. Apparently Maria had known right from the start what kind of woman she was—and Alex was still heartbroken after the death of his wife...he was vulnerable.

  Ruby retched. Any minute now she was going to be sick.

  This was all her own fault. She should never have crossed Maria Cochette last night. Of course someone like her would have newspaper contacts. The truth was Ruby had no idea how to handle people like that. She was unprepared for what she was up against—and it showed. She just wasn’t equipped to be part of this world.