Her Royal Masquerade (Her Royal Romance)

by Natasha Moore

  This was not a fairy tale world she lived in, she reminded herself. This was real life. She was not an elegant woman, comfortable with diamonds and servants. She was a sensible woman with no patience for royal spectacles.

  It didn’t matter anyway. The certainty twisted painfully in her chest. Even if she and Vittorio had felt something for each other, even if they yearned for each other with an ache that wouldn’t go away, they had no future together. She should have known better than to go to bed with him, to tease herself with what she could never have. To tempt herself with what she could never keep.

  Did she want to feel miserable? The simple fact was that she had no royal blood. That would never change.

  Mia took the lead down the narrow path, tamping down the newly fallen snow with her boots as she did. Her small charges followed, all bundled up. Annika, Mia’s teaching assistant, brought up the rear.

  Mia loved their little village. It was the oldest in Stagatland, sitting at the foot of the hill where the royal palace was perched. So much of their country was modern and built up now. Cities were growing, along with the industries that helped build the economy of their small country. But Mia could not imagine giving up her simple life of quiet comfort to live in a noisy, crowded city. Or a huge stone castle.

  Not that it was an option.

  Still, there weren’t many eligible local men to choose from if she wanted to find someone to help her take her mind off Vittorio. Right now, the thought of another man touching her the way he had left her cold, but she knew she had to get over it. Get over him. If she wasn’t careful she could end up alone in her little cottage, living on memories of a single happy night for the rest of her life.

  That would be pathetic.

  She herded her class to the town square, where a large expanse of newly fallen snow was an obvious temptation to her young students. She’d taught them well though. They didn’t dash out to disturb the smooth white snow. They stood in a line at the edge of the square and looked up at her with eager expressions.

  “Please, Miss Holmberg?” Eric cried.

  Mia laughed. “Go,” she said. “See how big a snowman you can make and then we’ll go to the bakery. Work together.”

  The children shouted and made a mad dash for the center of the square. A few of them dropped onto their backs to make snow angels before beginning to pack the snow into balls to start the snowman.

  Annika stood beside her as they watched the children play. “Are you okay? You’ve seemed a little distracted the last couple days.”

  “I’m fine.” But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Mia knew it was a lie. She needed help and this was the perfect opportunity. “Anni, are you still dating Beck?”

  “Yes.” Her gray eyes sparkled beneath her bright blue knit hat and her cheeks grew a little pinker. “I like him a lot.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I think I might even love him a little bit.”

  “But how do you work it out when you live here and he lives in the city?”

  Annika laughed. “It’s only an hour drive. We see each other during the week when we can and then we spend the weekends together.”

  The children squealed as they worked together to roll a ball of snow for the base of the snowman. Mia would love to have children of her own someday. It was time to stop yearning for a man she could never have and find one with whom she could build a life. “Does Beck have any friends?”

  Vittorio had never expected to make a love match. He’d resigned himself long ago that his marriage would be a cold business agreement as most Mezzanoan royal marriages had been. His mother and father had gotten along, but he’d never seen any real affection between them. It was the way it had always been.

  He had no illusions of romantic love like his sister did, but he knew a union with Birgitte would not be a cold one. He’d never realized how much he’d longed for a wife with whom he could indulge his hot-blooded desires. With whom he could enjoy a simple conversation. How wonderful it would be to look forward to spending time with his wife, not just in bed, but any time.

  He wanted to have Birgitte back in his bed and at his side. Now that he’d found her, he was anxious to make their union official. He refused to consider the possibility that she wouldn’t be just as excited about the prospect.

  This quick trip to the frozen country of Stagatland had been a waste of time, however.

  Vittorio had hoped to confront the princess here this morning. He’d planned to demand answers from her as to why she’d left him without saying a word. He couldn’t believe she’d truly wanted to escape him, not after the passionate night they’d spent together. If she’d meant to add him to her long list of short term lovers, she was mistaken. He was going to be the last one on that list.

  Vittorio strode from the palace with Rico, his friend and bodyguard, on his heels. Birgitte had not returned home to Stagatland after she left his bed. The king and queen said she was visiting with friends and they would summon her home as quickly as they could. But they could not, or would not, give him a way to contact her. So now he would have to go home and wait. He’d never been a patient man.

  Angelina had told him in quite an accusing manner that the members of the royal family in Stagatland were not forced to marry another royal. She acted as if it were Vittorio’s fault, or perhaps their father’s, that the rules for Mezzano royalty were different from those in Stagatland. His little sister hadn’t wanted to hear that it had been decreed for centuries past. She said she wanted to be able to marry the son of a baker if she pleased.

  He hadn’t understood his sister’s preoccupation with bakers until she told him the story she’d heard from Birgitte. And he hadn’t admitted to Angelina that he understood her fear that she wouldn’t find a love match among the available royals in the world. She was still young enough to believe in true love.

  Vittorio was old enough to know better.

  “I want to visit the bakery.” He and Rico stepped up to the limousine King Karl had put at their disposal. Vittorio could see a quaint village a short distance away, at the bottom of the hill on which the castle was perched. Smoke curled from many of the chimneys jutting from the rooftops.

  “Bakery?” Rico repeated. “Are you hungry?”

  Hungry for a woman with bright blue eyes and long white-blonde hair and a smile that took in everyone around her. “I have heard of a bakery that is run by the father of the queen.”

  Vittorio turned to Einar, their Stagatlandian guide and driver. “Is it nearby?”

  “Yes, Your Highness. Very close. We can stop on the way to the airport if you like.”

  He shivered. He should have dressed warmer. He thought the leather gloves and wool overcoat would be enough to protect him from the cold, but he’d underestimated the climate. “I would.” He climbed into the car.

  Vittorio didn’t know why he had the sudden desire to visit the bakery. Perhaps because it was run by Birgitte’s grandfather. Perhaps because Angelina loved the story and he knew she would be happy if he brought her back some sweets from the bakery she had told him about.

  Einar pulled the car to a stop on a narrow street in front of the bakery. A simple sign featuring the picture of a loaf of bread hung from a post above the door. Mouthwatering aromas filled the air. As Vittorio got out of the warm car and into the frigid weather, he heard musical laughter and his body immediately hardened. Birgitte’s sweet laughter was haunting him still.

  A group of children rounded the corner about half a block away. He froze when he saw a tall woman with long, white-blonde hair in the midst of the children.

  “The princess is here,” he said aloud. Rico came up beside him. “They were lying to me.” The king and queen had seemed pleased to find out about his interest in the princess. They had actually voiced the hope that he might settle down their wayward daughter. Why would they have lied to him?

  “What are you saying?” Rico asked, his voice low.

  Vittorio nodded toward the group coming their way. �
�The princess. She’s right there.” His heart raced in anticipation.

  Einar shook his head. “No, Your Highness. That’s not Princess Birgitte. That’s her cousin, Mia Holmberg. She’s a teacher. Those are her students.”

  Disappointment sank into Vittorio’s bones, surprising him with its intensity. Despite the flare of anger when he thought he’d been lied to, he couldn’t deny the joy that had burst within him at the thought of seeing Birgitte again. Touching her. Tasting her. Claiming her as his own.

  “Are you certain?” he asked. They were still too far away to get a good look at her face, but he thought she looked just like Birgitte.

  “Absolutely.” Einar looked at Vittorio as if he’s lost his mind. “Your Highness? The bakery is right here.”

  “Of course.” Vittorio stepped onto the sidewalk, but he didn’t turn to the door of the bakery. Instead, he waited and watched the small children and the princess’s cousin approach. Perhaps he could get some answers from her. It was possible she knew where the princess was or how to get in touch with her.

  Even bundled up in thick wool, walking in heavy boots and wearing a multicolored knitted cap pulled down over her ears, the woman walking toward him reminded him so much of Birgitte it took his breath away. She moved just as gracefully and had the same bright smile as she spoke to the excited children. A few of the students pointed toward Vittorio and the other two men standing on the sidewalk beside him.

  She looked up. Met his gaze. Her bright blue eyes grew wide and she stumbled. A tiny woman beside her caught her arm and steadied her. Vittorio took a step forward. The group stopped. They filled the sidewalk in front of the bakery.

  “Who’s that?” one of the children asked, pointing at Vittorio.

  “It’s not nice to point, Eric.”

  The other woman said, “If you are polite, maybe Mr. Hanson will introduce us.”

  “This is Prince Vittorio,” Einar said and the children chattered excitedly. “He is the prince of a faraway country called Mezzano. He came to our country to see the king and queen and asked to visit our famous bakery before going back home.”

  “I am delighted to meet you,” Vittorio said. He intended to address the group, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away from the beautiful woman whose long hair flowed from beneath the knitted cap. She stood at the back of the group and didn’t meet his gaze.

  “We’re going to the bakery too,” the little boy, Eric, said. “Miss Holmberg’s grandfather is the baker. A baker is someone who makes bread and cookies and cakes.” The little boy clapped his snowy mittens together in excitement.

  Vittorio wished he was dressed as warmly as the children were. His feet felt as if they would freeze to the sidewalk. He needed to obtain the information he required and get inside out of the cold. “I must speak with Miss Holmberg for a moment.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “Oh… but the children…”

  “I can take them in and get them started,” the other woman said, her inquisitive gaze bouncing between the two of them.

  “Thank you, Annika,” she said, her eyes still on Vittorio. Now that she was closer, he was stunned by the resemblance to Birgitte. No, her face wasn’t made up for a royal ball, but otherwise they looked identical. Could cousins look identical?

  “Come, children.” They followed Annika into the bakery. A few of the young ones waved shyly at Vittorio on their way by.

  Einar stepped forward. “Your Highness, this is Mia Holmberg. Mia, Prince Vittorio has come to Stagatland looking for Princess Birgitte.”

  She gasped softly and his body stirred as the familiar sound brought to mind tangled sheets and busy hands and hungry lips. She took a step back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where she is.”

  Vittorio would never forget the sound of Birgitte’s voice. Could she possibly share the exact same voice with her cousin? The same blue eyes? The same lovely lips? He took a step closer to this woman and inhaled deeply. He’d never forget that sweet scent or the way it hit him on a visceral level.

  “It’s you.” He was unable to keep the wonder from his voice. It took all he had to resist grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

  “No. I…”

  He turned on Einar. “What game are you playing?” he demanded.

  The older man frowned, his bushy eyebrows forming a silver V. “I don’t know what you mean, Your Highness.”

  Vittorio whirled and faced Birgitte. Anger simmered, began to heat him. He would discover what was going on before he left this frigid country. “Why are you lying to me?”

  Mia’s heart clenched. The pain in Vittorio’s voice was clear beneath his anger. She couldn’t blame him for being confused and angry. She wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms. To taste him and touch him. To explain her deception and hope he’d forgive her lies.

  Had he really come to Stagatland looking for her? Part of her rejoiced even as she stared at the handsome prince, the handsome angry prince, and knew that this was the worst thing that could happen. She didn’t know how to respond to his questions. What should she say to him? Either she brazened it out and denied she was the woman he’d met last weekend, the woman he’d made love to all night long, or she admitted her masquerade and betrayed the princess.

  She recognized Rico, the tall bald man who had helped her slip out of the palace after those incredible hours with Vittorio. Rico was studying her now with narrowed eyes. He caught her gaze and recognition blazed there. Even if the bodyguard hadn’t recognized her, Mia knew she couldn’t lie to Vittorio any more. There was no point.

  He’d told her how much he hated lies. His anger at her deception would be more than enough to push him away.

  Mia turned to face the prince and the need to touch him was a physical ache inside of her. The memories of their time together were too fresh. She nearly folded her arms across her stomach to stop the pain. She swallowed before she could speak. “Can we talk alone for a moment, Your Highness?”

  He nodded sharply and followed her across the street to a small niche between two buildings. They stopped in front of a snow-covered bench and turned to face each other. There were a few people walking on the snowy sidewalk, but they skirted Mia and Vittorio even as they shot the pair curious looks. Mia knew she’d have to answer a lot of questions later.

  Mia ignored the people around them, instead she swept her gaze over Vittorio. She’d been given this one last chance to see him and she wanted to make the most of it. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest. A bittersweet sigh escaped her lips. “I didn’t expect to see you again,” she said, even though those were the last words she expected to come out of her mouth.

  His dark eyes flared. “So you admit it.”

  “Yes.” The one word came out on a shaky sigh.

  Vittorio took a step closer to her. His eyes searched her face for the answers he wouldn’t be able to find. “I don’t understand. Why the lies?”

  “It’s complicated.” She took a deep breath. She reached out to touch him, but drew her hand back before she did it in front of all the people watching them. There were too many people watching them. “My name is Mia Holmberg.”

  “More lies,” Vittorio growled. “Why are you pretending to be someone else, Birgitte?”

  “I’m not Princess Birgitte, Your Highness. I am her cousin. We resemble each other.” But she knew, bundled up in wools, she looked nothing like a princess. She didn’t know how Vittorio could even recognize her the way she looked right now, so plain and unattractive. She foolishly wished she looked prettier for the last time he would see her. She wished his last memories of her would be in an elegant ball gown or stretched out on his soft mattress. Not wearing a bulky coat with a knit cap pulled over her head.

  “I don’t care how much you look alike,” he snapped. “I know you are the woman I held in my arms.” She hushed him and then he seemed to notice the people around them. He lowered his voice, but went on. “I know you are the woman who was in my bed.”

  “Yes. I
was,” she whispered. “I will never forget it, Vittorio.” She took a deep breath.

  “But I am not the princess. I am Mia.”

  Storm clouds passed across his face, rivaling the ones in the sky threatening to dump more frigid snow on Stagatland. “You came to Mezzano last weekend?”

  She met his gaze, held it. “Yes.”

  Understanding straightened his shoulders, making him an even more imposing figure. “But you are not Princess Birgitte?”

  “No.” She reached for him, but he pulled his hand away before she could touch him. “Please understand,” she begged in a loud whisper. “The princess could not attend. She asked me to take her place.”

  “Take her place?” Vittorio grabbed her arm, pulled her close. Her body bumped up against his and even with all his anger, she yearned to press fully along his hard, hot body. “You mean lie. To me. To my family. To the king.”

  She blinked away the tears that threatened to fall from the venom in his voice. “Yes.”

  He pushed her away. “You made me a fool.”

  She stumbled back into the brick wall of the apartment building. “No. Your Highness, please.” She hated the way her voice cracked. Hated the way she wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. “Vittorio…I’m sorry.”

  He waved away her apology as if it meant nothing. “Do you often stand in for your cousin?” he sneered.

  Her stomach twisted. She opened her mouth to deny it, but couldn’t. It had always been a game they played. It had been a game this time too. At first. But it had ceased to be a game the moment she saw him cross the dance floor to take her hand in his. He would never understand how much that night had meant to her. How much he meant to her.

  His leather-covered fingers curled into fists at his side. “Do you often take your cousin’s place in a man’s bed?”

  She gasped. “No.” She supposed she deserved that, but it didn’t make the hurt at his words any less sharp. “No, you don’t understand.”