Cinderella's Prince Under the Mistletoe

by Cara Colter

  Having dispensed with her jacket, he took her hand and guided her to the couch.

  “How on earth did you accomplish this?” she whispered. “The tree isn’t even nailed to the wall.”

  “It took a small army,” he admitted, “to get all the reservations canceled and people’s vacations rescheduled elsewhere. And it took the cooperation of strangers, like your lovely boss, Mrs. Kennedy, to spirit you away from the place for a day.”

  “But why?” Imogen asked. “Why have you gone to so much trouble?”

  “Gabriella told me she felt bad that she was immersed in Christmas excitement at the palace and that you had been left out.”

  Imogen should have felt uplifted by her friend’s thoughtfulness, but somehow it was not the answer she was hoping for: that Gabriella had sent him.

  She tried to hide her disappointment. She would talk about Gabriella, too!

  “You know, when I first learned Gabriella’s news, I didn’t even think she would go to Casavalle. And then when she went, I didn’t think she would stay. I felt I knew her well enough to say she would never leave here, Crystal Lake. I certainly never thought she would accept the crown. But when I speak to her lately, I don’t know anymore. She sounds happy and excited.”

  “She has embraced Casavalle like it is a missing part of herself. Which it is.”

  “You think she’s going to accept the crown.”

  He lifted a shoulder, as if he didn’t care about that!

  Imogen registered that, happy for her friend and for Gabriella’s embracing the adventure life had offered her, and yet achingly aware of her own loss.

  “I’ve always worried about her being lonely,” Imogen admitted. “I can’t help but think if she accepts the crown it will make it worse.”

  “She and my mother are already fast friends. She has Antonio and I now. We are her family.”

  But I’m her family, Imogen wanted to wail. Instead she said, “I was thinking more about a husband for her, and children. I always wanted that for her, but she didn’t. She seemed terrified of it, as if she had inherited her mom’s sadness and wariness about love. Still, I thought the right person would come along.”

  “And they will,” Luca said.

  “Do you think so? Once you are a member of a royal family, how do you ever find someone to love you for you?”

  “How indeed?” he asked softly.

  Imogen’s eyes flew to Luca’s face. She should have never let it slip that she had thought she loved him. Because now he seemed to know some truth about her that made her feel vulnerable and faintly pathetic.

  Ordinary girl falls hopelessly for Prince.

  “I took your advice,” he said after a moment. “I went and talked to Princess Meribel.”

  “And?”

  “I told her the truth.”

  “That you loved her and she had broken your heart?” She forced herself to look at his face.

  “Loved Meribel?” He looked puzzled. “What would make you think that?”

  “I just felt you must have such strong feelings for her to be so protective of her after she betrayed you. It seemed like love to me.”

  “It’s true that I felt intensely protective of her. Especially since I could see my part in the whole debacle. But love? A kind of love, I suppose, like a brother might have for a younger sister.”

  “What do you mean, your part?”

  “What kind of self-centered jerk doesn’t even understand the woman he plans to marry is unhappy? I missed all the cues, and so I felt responsible, at least in part, when the people of Casavalle—and many in Aguilarez, as well—turned on Meribel when they found out her pregnancy was the reason our wedding was canceled.

  “So, strong feelings of protection, yes. Love? No. I never loved her, Imogen. I told myself I would in time. I told myself that she would love me, in time. But now I see that was wrong, to think such a marriage could have ever worked, or that any good could come from what would have basically been a charade.”

  Prince Luca never loved Princess Meribel.

  “When I went to see her,” he continued, “I thanked her for carrying the most important message of all—to be brave enough to accept the invitation of love if it is presented to you.”

  She gazed at him, wide-eyed.

  “You see, I had my whole life mapped out. My marriage—my entire future—were all decided for me. It’s all come crashing down, and you’d think I’d be devastated, but instead I feel this strange elation. And I feel free. For the first time ever, I can make decisions about what I want. I can map out my own life.”

  Imogen felt almost faint from the way he was looking at her: as if she was the destination on the map of his life, as if she was something he wanted.

  “Come,” he said. “Let’s go to the dining room.”

  He held out his hand; she took it and allowed herself to be escorted to the dining room. How far did she want to allow herself to be pulled into this enchantment? As wonderful as it had been for Gabriella to set this in place, it was making her ache for things she could not have.

  But was that completely true?

  She had been mistaken that he loved Meribel. He never had.

  And what did it mean for him that he would no longer be King? Did it mean an ordinary girl might be on his radar?

  Perhaps, she thought sadly, but probably not one unable to ever bear his children. But he already knew that. Why was he here? Surely it wasn’t just at the request of Gabriella?

  The dining room, like her office, had been transformed into a Christmas fantasy. White and red poinsettias were grouped on the side serving table. The main dining table, laid with a Christmas cloth and beautiful china dishes that she did not recognize, was decorated with lit candles and an ice centerpiece, of snowmen!

  “The caterers I passed did this,” she deduced.

  “I wanted you to think I did it myself!” he teased as he held out a chair for her. She sat down at the table, and he sat at right angles from her and removed the silver tops from serving platters.

  Two perfectly roasted Cornish game hens were underneath.

  She nibbled on the one he placed on her plate, but her stomach was in knots.

  “It’s not as good as the one you cooked in the fire,” he told her, tasting his own.

  “It is so! It has some remarkable sauce on it. No burned places.”

  He laughed, and some of the knots dissolved in her stomach. Yes, he was the Prince of Casavalle, but he was also her Luca, the one she had laughed with and played in the snow with. She had been given the gift of one more encounter with him. Why not embrace it?

  “What will happen to you now?” she asked him, suddenly ashamed of herself for her every thought being on herself. Luca had just had the shock of his life: finding out he had a sister and that the job he had prepared for his entire life would not be his. He claimed he was happy, but was he worried, too?

  “I can’t know what Gabriella’s decision will be, but if she chooses the crown, I am superbly qualified to act as an advisor to your friend and I will do that. I find myself feeling quite comfortable with that role. As I said before, I am cautiously relishing the thought of being free in ways I have not yet experienced. I can travel more freely. I can experience other cultures more deeply. Just like Meribel abandoning me for another turned out to be a gift, I am beginning to see that a gift might be hidden in this.”

  He didn’t seem worried at all. They sampled all the exquisite offerings on the table, and when they were finished, Luca said, “Speaking of gifts, I have one other for you.”

  “I don’t need any other gifts, Luca. Just being with you...”

  She could feel the blush moving up her cheeks, as if she had said too much. Way too much. Again!

  “This is what is amazing to me, Imogen, how you see me. Not a prince, but me. I want you to c
ome back to Casavalle with me.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  FOR A MOMENT Imogen’s heart stood still. Could she have heard correctly?

  “You want me to come back to your kingdom with you?” she asked Luca weakly.

  “Yes. You have shown me your world. Now come and see mine.”

  Suddenly she understood. She nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity of what she had thought! That he wanted her to come.

  “Is this Gabriella’s idea?” she asked quietly. “Is she feeling sorry for me that she is having all the fun, and I’ve been left behind?”

  He regarded her thoughtfully. “If I tell you Gabriella needs you now, more than ever, will you come?”

  Would she? It seemed a dangerous thing, indeed, to agree. How would she stop herself from being enchanted? She was already in love with him. What would happen if she accepted an invitation into his world?

  Her heart could be broken.

  She had to say no.

  And yet she thought of the excitement in Gabi’s voice, and her new enthusiasm for life. She thought of how, just this morning, she had almost wished she was going to be fired. How she had felt as if life was passing her by, how she had felt envious of life handing her friend an unexpected adventure.

  What did it matter why she was being asked to go?

  Life was shouting at her to do this. So, even while her head said no, loudly and firmly, her heart said yes.

  And somehow it was what her heart said that tumbled off her lips.

  A whisper, tentative and frightened.

  And then more loudly, more sure, more bold.

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  “Can we get out? And walk?”

  Luca looked at Imogen. She was wide-eyed with wonder, as she had been since the moment she had stepped onto the private jet that had whisked them from Canada and to his world in the blink of an eye.

  He probably shouldn’t have told her it was Gabriella’s idea for her to come to Casavalle, but when he had invited her, she had suddenly looked so terrified.

  And then suddenly he had felt terrified, too.

  It was the same mistake his father had made with Sophia: jumping in. No, better to say it was Gabriella’s idea, to see if they could maintain what he thought they had at the Lodge under these very different circumstances.

  Now a royal limousine, as beautifully appointed as the jet, and chauffeur driven, was carrying them to the very gates of the castle.

  Just as Luca had told Imogen, preparation for Christmas had begun. It was getting dark and they were just entering the long driveway lined with Norway spruce, the castle awash in light at the end of the tunnel of trees.

  Because it was such a huge job, the trees that stood sentinel on both sides of Royal Avenue were always decorated first, and they had been completed.

  This year they alternated: one tree completely in white lights, the next one in blue, all the way down the long driveway.

  “How many lights do you think?” Imogen breathed. “A million? More? I have to get out. I have to be in it. It’s a fairy tale come to life.”

  Luca tapped the driver on the shoulder, gave the quiet command, and the car came to a halt. He exited the car and took Cristiano’s place, holding open the door for Imogen.

  “Welcome to my home,” he said quietly, as Imogen got out of the car, hugged herself tight and turned a slow circle.

  She stopped when she was facing the castle. “How can such a place ever feel like home?”

  Could it ever feel like her home? He looked at it through her eyes: the castle was constructed of pure white limestone that had been brought, centuries ago, from quarries on the Adriatic Islands. Its soaring spires, walls, wings, towers, were all lit with floodlights, so that the whole place glowed. It did look exactly like the opening illustration for a fairy tale.

  It was all so grand compared to the Lodge. Luca felt the oddest thing. He explored the feeling, strangely paralyzed by it. It felt so odd.

  He realized he felt something he had never felt before: he felt insecure. But then he looked at her wonder-filled face and remembered, probably for the thousandth time since she had spoken them, the words she had said.

  No wonder I felt as if I loved you.

  He crooked his elbow to Imogen, inviting her to loop her arm through his. They walked the tree-lined avenue together. It opened, eventually, to a huge front courtyard, a cobblestone driveway circled around a massive fountain. The workings of the fountain had been removed, and huge blocks of ice, weighing several tons each, had been placed there.

  “What are these?” Imogen asked, and then her eyes widened. “That’s what you told me about, isn’t it? The ice that’s brought in for the carving competition. It’s so mild here. It’s magical that you’ve found a way to keep the ice from melting, to make it happen.”

  That’s what he had hoped for—that beyond the pomp and circumstance, she would see the magic of his world and the beauty.

  “Is that the maze over there? The one the children love? It’s gorgeous. I couldn’t have ever imagined it.”

  “It’s a hedge maze—part of the formal gardens. In the summer it has reflection pools and fountains. It hasn’t had its Christmas makeover yet, but it soon will.”

  “How wonderful to picture children running through it laughing.”

  He saw her own regret about children flit briefly through her eyes.

  “Can you get lost in it?” she asked.

  “Oh yes. That’s part of the fun. You and I will explore it together,” he said. “I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”

  And he meant that. Not just for the maze, but for his world. He would make sure she would not get lost in this strange new place he was asking her to explore.

  She seemed to know exactly what he really meant, because she smiled tentatively, and then Imogen turned her attention to the wide granite staircase that led to the massive front doors just as they opened. Two staff members in the simple uniform of the castle—white blouses and black slacks or skirts—held the double doors open for them.

  “Is someone going to come out and play the trumpet?” Imogen whispered, and then, “It’s all a little intimidating, isn’t it?”

  He looked at it through her eyes and felt his heart fall a little bit. The transition he would be asking her to make was indeed huge.

  But then Gabriella burst through the open door. Her hair was tumbling around her shoulders, jodhpurs clung to her slender legs, and her shirt was untucked. It was just the moment of informality that was needed!

  “Imogen,” she called, as she came down the steps, two at a time. She took the smaller woman in her embrace. “Are you totally overwhelmed?”

  “Of course I am!”

  “Let me get you settled then. You can take tea in my quarters.” She giggled. “And wait until you see them.”

  Just like that, Imogen was whisked away from him. He stared at the two departing women, slightly disgruntled. This wasn’t exactly his plan. Luca’s lips twitched. Again, these Canadian women just seemed to have a way of disrupting the best-laid plans.

  * * *

  Imogen woke the next morning and felt faintly disoriented. When she remembered where she was, she felt as if she needed to pinch herself.

  She sat up in bed—a huge four-poster piece of furniture that centuries’ worth of royal people had slept in—and gazed around the room. Not a room, really, but a suite. It was so opulent it took her breath away. The bedclothes were silk. Priceless paintings and wall hangings decorated the walls. When she swung her feet out of the bed, they landed on an ancient Turkish rug.

  She padded to the bathroom, which had a huge marble freestanding tub, and she was pretty sure the fixtures were real gold.

  She put aside the little voice that tried to tell her she didn’t belong here and listened to the other
one, which told her to embrace the adventure.

  A soft knock came at the door, and she shrugged into the luxurious robe that hung on the back of the door. She wondered if breakfast was going to be delivered on a tray. How did you address the person who delivered it? Did you take it from them or did they set it down?

  Imogen, she told herself, you are in way over your head.

  Just the way Gabriella’s mother would have been all those years ago, she thought with sympathy.

  She went and opened the door.

  Luca stood there. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved, or appalled that he was seeing her with messy hair and still in her pajamas.

  But of course, he had seen her with messy hair and not exactly as a fashionista before. He looked so good when he gave her a rakish smile.

  “Are you going to sleep all day?”

  “Have I?” she asked, appalled.

  “Welcome to jet lag! Get dressed. I have so much to show you.”

  “I’m not even sure what I should wear.”

  “Dress to have fun. I’m going to show you the palace, and then show you the grounds on horseback.”

  “I don’t know how to ride a horse. That’s Gabriella’s thing.”

  “Then I’ll try not to put you on one that breathes fire, not today.”

  The tour of the palace began with the dining room, where a delightful breakfast of crunchy, mind-blowingly delicious handmade pastries had been put out. From there Luca took her for a tour of the palace. It was awe inspiring. It might have struck her to intimidated silence, except that Luca was so funny, irreverent and engaging as her personal tour guide.

  The palace was truly like something out of a fairy tale.

  Luca took her to huge ballrooms, staterooms, the throne room, dining rooms, long galleries and sweeping staircases, as well as kitchens. Amused by her wide-eyed wonder, he let her peek in sumptuous bedrooms and luxury bathrooms. The library took her breath away.

  Most magical of all, though, was that Christmas in Casavalle was unfolding exactly as Luca had described it. The palace was being prepared, and it was both breathtaking and awe inspiring.