by Sarah Morgan
Basking in the novel experience of being considered irresistible, Holly sipped her orange juice. He didn’t reveal anything about his own emotions and they didn’t talk about their problems, but they seemed to have reached some sort of truce. ‘So where do you go when you leave our bed?’
‘I work. Usually in the study.’
Holly gave a disbelieving laugh because that altogether more simple explanation hadn’t occurred to her. ‘I just assumed—The thing is, I’ve been so worried.’ Weak with relief, she confessed, ‘I mean, I know you had loads of relationships before me.’
‘I sense this is turning into one of those female questions where every answer is always going to be the wrong one,’ he drawled and she bit her lip.
‘But—were you with someone when we met at the rugby?’
‘Technically, no.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? I read about a supermodel—’
‘You don’t want to believe everything you read.’
‘But—’
His tone was impatient. ‘What can you possibly gain from this line of questioning?’
Reassurance? She gave a painful laugh as she realised the foolishness of that. Reassurance about what—that he loved her? He didn’t. She knew he didn’t. ‘I was just—interested.’
‘You were just being a woman. Forget it.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Remember that the past is always behind you. Are you ready?’
‘For what?’ She decided that this wasn’t the right time to point out that the past wasn’t behind him, even if he believed that it was. It was obvious to her that it was with him every agonising minute of the day. ‘Where are we going?’
His gaze lingered on her face. ‘To spend some time together. Isn’t that what you wanted? You said that I don’t spend any time with you during the day,’ he reminded her softly. ‘And that we’ve never actually been on a date. So we’re going to rectify that.’
‘We’re going on a date?’ Holly couldn’t stop the smile. ‘Where?’
‘The most romantic city in the world. Rome.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘THIS is your idea of a date? When you said we were visiting romantic Rome, I imagined wandering hand in hand to the Spanish Steps and the Colosseum. Not sitting in a rugby stadium,’ Holly muttered, taking her seat and waving enthusiastically to the very vocal crowd.
Casper gave her a rare smile. ‘You wanted to be alone with me. We’re alone.’
‘This is your idea of alone?’ Holly glanced at the security team surrounding them, and then at the enormous crowd who were cheering as the players jogged onto the pitch. ‘Are you delusional?’
‘Stadio Flaminio is a small stadium—intimate.’
Holly started to laugh. ‘I suppose everything is relative. It’s small compared with Twickenham. This time we’re only in the company of thirty thousand people. But is this really your idea of romantic? A rugby match?’
‘We met during a rugby match,’ Casper reminded her, and their eyes clashed as both of them remembered the sheer breathless intensity of that meeting. ‘I am mixing my two passions. Rugby and you.’
He didn’t actually mean her, did he? He meant her body.
‘I—I’ve never actually watched a game before,’ Holly confessed shakily, dragging her eyes from his and wondering what it was about him that reduced her to jelly. ‘I was always working. I don’t even know the rules.’
‘One team has to score more points than the other,’ Casper said dryly, leaning forward as the game started, his gaze intent on the pitch.
‘By all piling on top of each other?’ Holly winced as she watched the players throw themselves into the game with no apparent care for their own safety. ‘It’s all very macho, isn’t it? Lots of mud, blood and muscle.’
‘They’re following strict rules. Watch. You might find it exciting.’
And she did.
At first she sat in silence, determined not to ruin his enjoyment by asking inane questions, and equally determined to try and understand what he loved about the game. But, far from ignoring her, he seemed keen to involve her in everything that was going on.
There was a sudden roar from the crowd as a man powered down the field with the ball.
‘He’s fast,’ Holly breathed, and Casper’s shoulders tensed and then he punched the air.
‘He’s scored the opening try.’
‘That’s when he puts the ball down on the line—and that’s five points, right?’
Casper was absorbed in the game, but not too absorbed to make the occasional observation for her benefit. Gradually he explained the rules, until the game no longer looked like a playground fight fuelled by testosterone, and instead became an extremely exciting sporting challenge.
Towards the second half of the match Holly discovered that she was leaning forward too, her eyes on the pitch, equally absorbed by what was happening. ‘That was a brilliant run through the Italian defence.’ Turning to find Casper watching her, she blushed. ‘What? Did I say something stupid?’
‘No.’ His voice was husky and there was a strange light in his eyes. ‘You are quite right. It was a brilliant run by England. You are enjoying yourself?’
‘Very much.’ She gave a tentative smile, and turned back to the pitch. ‘That tackle was by the Italian hooker, is that right?’ Suddenly aware that the sun was shining down on them, and she was far too hot, she released a few buttons on her jacket. ‘I can’t believe they named a rugby position after a prostitute.’
‘They are called hookers because they use their feet to hook the ball in the scrum. They’re a key…’ His voice tailed off in the middle of the sentence, and all his attention was suddenly focused on the delicate lace of her camisole. ‘Sorry, what was the question?’ He dragged his gaze up to hers, his eyes suddenly blank, and she gave a feminine smile.
‘You were teaching me about rugby.’
‘If you really want to learn,’ he breathed, leaning closer to her, ‘Don’t start undressing in the middle of my answer.’
‘I was hot.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘So am I.’
Delighted by the effect she was having on him, her eyes sparkled. ‘Where were we? Oh yes—you were telling me about the hooker.’
He stroked a finger over her cheek. ‘Unless you want to find yourself participating in an indecent act in a public place,’ he purred, ‘I suggest you stop teasing. And the hooker is a key position in attacking and defensive play.’
Suddenly she wished they were somewhere more private. ‘So you played rugby at school and university, is that right?’ Swiftly she changed the subject. ‘That’s how you know the England captain?’
‘He has been a close friend of mine for years.’
And watching rugby was probably one of the few occasions when he could switch off and forget he was a prince, Holly thought to herself as they both settled down to watch the game again.
The match ended with an England victory, and Casper and Holly joined the players at the post-match reception.
Casper was guest of honour and gave a short, humorous speech that had everyone laughing. Watching him mingle with the players and guests afterwards, Holly was fascinated by the change in him. As he smoothly and skilfully dealt with all the people who wanted to speak to him, there was no sign of the icily reserved man she’d been living with, and in his place was the confident, charismatic prince who had seduced her.
But this was his public persona, she reminded herself.
He switched on the charm and gave them what they expected.
But at what personal sacrifice?
He’d buried his own needs for those of other people.
And now he was laughing with the England captain, his old friend, and Holly pushed aside darker thoughts as he introduced her.
‘You look different without the mud,’ she confessed naïvely, and the man lifted her hand to his lips with laughter in his eyes.
‘So you’re the woman who distracted me at Twickenham. There I w
as, focusing on the ball, trying to block out the world around me, and suddenly Royal Boy here is kissing this stunning woman.’
Holly blushed. ‘You’ve known each other a long time.’
‘I know all his secrets, but I wouldn’t dare tell.’ The man grinned. ‘He’s bigger and tougher than me.’
Holly’s eyes slid to Casper’s broad shoulders and she reflected on the fact that his physique was every bit as impressive as this man who was a sporting hero to millions. Her stomach squirmed with longing and she felt herself blushing as her eyes met his questioning gaze.
‘I really enjoyed the game,’ she said hastily. ‘Thanks for taking me.’
The England captain punched Casper on the arm. ‘I can understand why you married her. Any woman who thanks you for taking them to a game of rugby has got to be worth hanging onto.’ He winked. ‘And it helps that she looks gorgeous.’
‘All right, enough.’ Casper curved an arm around Holly’s shoulders in an unmistakeably possessive gesture. ‘Time for you to go and charm someone else.’
Finally they were escorted to the waiting limousine, and Holly slid inside. ‘I really envy the fact that when you speak all the words come out in the right order.’
Casper’s glance was amused. ‘And that’s surprising?’
‘Well, I’m all right with words generally, but in a tricky situation they never come out the way I want them too. I always think of the right thing to say about four days after the opportunity to say it has passed. And I’m hopeless at standing up for myself because I hate conflict. The moment anyone glares at me I just want them to stop being angry, and the words tie themselves in knots in my mouth.’
‘You stood up to me that day in your friend’s flat.’
‘That was an exception,’ she muttered. ‘You were saying awful things to me, none of them true. Generally if someone yells at me I turn into a mute.’ The car sped through the centre of Rome, negotiating the clog of traffic and tourists.
‘No matter how hard I try, I can’t imagine you as a mute,’ Casper said dryly, and Holly shrugged.
‘I envy your confidence. I’ve never had much of that.’ She studied his profile. ‘You must miss the days when you could just go to rugby matches and spend time with your friends. Was it hard for you—becoming the ruling prince? I mean, it wasn’t what you expected, was it?’
For a moment he didn’t answer, then his mouth tightened slightly. ‘The circumstances were hard.’
Had he just shut it away? she wondered. For eight years? If so, no wonder he seemed so cold and detached with her. He’d never given himself a chance to heal.
‘Have you ever talked about it?’ Concern for him made her bold. ‘Sorry, but bottling it up for ever can’t be a good thing.’
‘Holly—’
‘Sorry, sorry; OK, I won’t ask again,’ she said hastily. ‘But do you think you could at least give me some detail about how your work evolved? It’s just a bit embarrassing when people who have lived here all their lives say things to me and I have to look as though I know what they’re talking about, while I really don’t have a clue. Someone was praising you for your vision and courage—something to do with the way you transformed the way Santallia did things. I tried to look as though I knew what he was talking about, but obviously I didn’t. I just thought it might help if you told me a bit about—things. I don’t want to look thick.’ Retreating slightly in her seat as she saw Casper lift long bronzed fingers to his forehead, she braced herself for the explosion of Mediterranean volatility that was inevitably going to follow a gesture of frank exasperation.
Surprisingly, when he looked at her there was laughter in his eyes. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’d make an excellent torture weapon? You go on and on until a guy is ready to surrender.’
‘It’s just jolly hard to talk to people if you don’t have all the information, and I don’t happen to think silence is healthy,’ Holly mumbled, and Casper gave a shake of his head.
‘Fine. Tonight over dinner, I will outline the highlights of my life so far. And it’s only fair to warn you that you’ll be bored out of your mind.’
‘We’re having dinner? Don’t tell me, there will be seven hundred other people there.’
‘Just the two of us.’
‘Just us?’ A dark, dangerous thrill cramped her stomach. Perhaps finally, they’d have the opportunity to deepen their relationship. And she knew she wouldn’t be bored hearing about his past. She was fast discovering that nothing about him bored her.
‘Just us, Holly.’ His voice was soft and his eyes lingered on her mouth. ‘Late dinner. After our trip to the opera.’
‘You’re taking me to the opera? Seriously?’
‘Given that you sing all the time, I thought you might enjoy it.’
In the darkened auditorium, Casper found himself focusing on Holly’s face rather than the opera.
He could see the glisten of tears in her eyes as she responded to the emotional story being played out on the stage in front of them, and marvelled at how open she was with her feelings.
Since the curtain had risen, she’d appeared to have forgotten his existence, so lost was she in Mozart’s score and the beauty of the singing.
Casper’s eyes rested on the seductive curve of her shoulders, bared by the exquisite sequinned dress that appeared to be superglued to her exotic curves. Around the slender column of her neck were the pink diamonds, glittering against her smooth, pale skin.
From the tip of her simple satin shoes to the elegant coil of her newly straightened hair, she’d slipped into the role of princess with astonishing ease.
Their trip had somehow become public knowledge and, when their limousine had pulled up outside the opera house, a crowd had gathered hoping to see them.
But far from being daunted, or even disappointed that their ‘private’ evening had become public, she’d spent several minutes chatting, smiling and charming both the crowd and the photographers, until Casper had pointed out that they were going to miss the opera.
And when they’d walked into their box there had been no privacy because every head in the opera house had turned to gaze. Even now he was sure that half the audience were straining to catch a glimpse of his wife, rather than the soprano currently giving her all on the stage.
But Holly wasn’t bothered.
He’d misjudged her, he admitted to himself, studying her profile in the darkness.
He’d thought that she would struggle with her new life.
But her only complaint was that he didn’t spend enough time with her.
In the grip of a sudden surge of lust, Casper contemplated suggesting that they cut out during the interval, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that because she was so obviously enjoying herself.
She was so enthusiastic about everything—meeting people, opera—even rugby.
Casper frowned slightly, admitting to himself that she’d surprised him. Over and over again. He’d expected her to struggle with the crowds and the attention but she’d responded like a professional. He’d thought she’d be tongue tied at official functions, but she was so warm and friendly that everyone was keen to engage her in conversation. He’d expected her to snap at him for dragging her to the rugby, but after the initial humour she’d shown as much interest and energy in that as she did with everything.
He remembered her comment about being lonely and his mind wandered back to the newspaper article that had revealed her pregnancy. At the time he’d been so angry, he hadn’t paid attention.
But hadn’t there been some revelation about her father?
‘So this palazzo is owned by one of your friends?’ Holly wandered onto the roof terrace, which felt like a slice of paradise in the centre of such a busy city. A profusion of exotic plants and flowers twisted around the ornate iron balustrade, and in the distance she could see the floodlit Colosseum. ‘You certainly have influential friends.’
‘It is more private than staying in a hotel, or as the guest of t
he President.’
For once they were guaranteed complete privacy, and that fact alone somehow increased the feeling of intimacy.
She’d wanted to be alone, but now that they were, she felt ridiculously self-conscious.
‘I love the diamonds.’ She touched her necklace and he smiled.
‘They look good on you. I’m glad you didn’t change.’
Aware that Casper had watched her more than the opera, Holly had opted to wear the same dress for dinner. The fact that he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her had been a heady experience.
‘You like my dress?’ Smoothing her hands over her hips in a typically feminine gesture, she glanced down at herself. ‘It’s not too clingy?’
‘It’s you I like,’ he murmured, ‘not the dress.’ He stroked a hand over her shoulder and Holly decided that she might wear the dress for ever.
‘All right, now this feels like being on a date,’ she said, laughing nervously as she took the glass of champagne he was offering her. ‘The weather is gorgeous. It’s really warm, considering it’s only March.’
‘You finally have me alone, and our topic of conversation is going to be the weather?’ Casper trailed appreciative dark eyes down her body. ‘Has today tired you out?’
‘No.’ Her nerves on fire, she walked to the edge of the balcony and stared at the ruins of the Colosseum, reminding herself to be careful what she said. ‘It’s been fun. Thank you.’
‘It’s probably less tiring than the visits you’ve been doing. You’re in the early stages of pregnancy. Your doctor told me that it can be an exhausting time. Most women in your position would have been lying in the sun with a book.’
‘If I wasn’t married to you, I’d be waiting tables, pregnant or not,’ Holly said dryly, glancing at her luxurious, privileged surroundings with something close to disbelief. ‘Being married to you isn’t exactly tiring. Someone else makes all the arrangements and tells me where I need to be and when. I even have someone who suggests what I wear. Someone does my hair and make-up. I just turn up and chat to people.’
