Christmas Encounter with a Prince

by Katrina Cudmore

  ‘I know a great Peruvian restaurant close by—I’m sure the break will do you good.’

  She didn’t deserve a lunch break. Not with such a dismal word output today. She was about to say no, but the concern in Luis’s gaze had her reluctantly stand and nod her acceptance. Her behaviour last night had obviously alarmed him greatly; she needed to prove to him that he could leave London with a clear conscience and that she would be okay on her own. With Luis gone, then just maybe the words would come.

  * * *

  Beyond the Christmas lights surrounding the restaurant window, head bowed, her phone to her ear, Alice paced the Marylebone footpath. They had just ordered their food when her phone had rung, and with a concerned expression she had excused herself and stepped outside.

  Okay, so he knew by taking Alice to lunch that he was procrastinating. Putting off travelling back to Monrosa. But being in Monrosa agitated him. How the hell would he cope with living there full-time? Palace life stifled him. It made him feel like a shadow of his true self. Royal expectation and formality choked him. It was as though he had to suppress every truth about himself. But he had promised his father...and, despite what his father thought, he did not go back on promises. Maybe it was because of his father’s low opinion of him, but integrity and honour were vital to his self-regard and esteem.

  Outside, Alice placed her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. But didn’t come back inside. Instead she seemed to stare blankly at all of the last-minute shoppers rushing by. Was something the matter? Perhaps it was something to do with her father.

  What kind of animal created such fear in his own daughter? This morning she had been up at some ungodly hour, looking tired and tense, and had barely spoken to him before she had bolted up to the library, insisting she had work to do. Later on, when he had returned from his run, he had found a note from her informing him she had decided to work in the British Library and wishing him a happy Christmas.

  And he had got to wondering what her Christmas would be like.

  How was he supposed to walk away from her, knowing she would be all alone for Christmas, especially after witnessing her distress last night?

  Coming back inside, she handed her black padded jacket to the waiter and, putting her phone on the table, dropped down to her seat opposite him with a sigh.

  Wearing a black and white T-shirt with the logo TOMBOY emblazoned on it, she gave him an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry. That was my mum. I didn’t want to miss her call. I knew that she was driving to my aunt’s house today and she’s a nervous driver, so I wanted to make sure she got there okay.’ She let out another sigh. ‘Although now I wish I hadn’t: she wants me to go back to Ireland for Christmas.’ On the table her phone pinged. She glanced at it before dropping it into her handbag at the side of the table. She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m now going to get a barrage of calls and texts from her. My mum thinks I’m nine, not twenty-nine.’

  ‘Why does she want you to go home?’

  She hesitated for a moment before admitting, ‘I made the stupid mistake of telling her that I saw my father last night.’

  What was she not telling him? Why was her mother so concerned? His own concern had him ask sharply, ‘Is your father a danger to you?’

  She blinked, rightly taken aback by his tone. He raised his hands in apology. ‘Sorry,’ he placed his hands on the table between them, ‘I can’t get out of my mind just how terrified you were last night. It’s not right.’

  She studied his hands for a moment and then briefly she touched her fingertips against his. ‘Thanks for being concerned.’ Her eyes held his; there was a flash of uncertainty, deep vulnerability, in her expression, but then, sitting back in her seat, her expression once again closed to scrutiny, she gave a shrug. ‘My father isn’t a danger to me. My mum was never happy about me spending Christmas alone in the first place. It’s the first time we haven’t spent Christmas week together—I’ve tried to get out of it other years but she’s very good at persuading me into spending it with her family. God, it’s a nightmare—too many people, too many presents to be bought and exchanged, too much food and too much singing.’

  ‘It sounds like fun to me.’

  She laughed at that. ‘I’m guessing any party is fun to you.’ Then, her expression growing quizzical, she said, ‘Your life, it seems so busy. You seem to be in a different country every week, hanging out with a different crowd. That constant travel, racing and socialising would exhaust me. Do you ever just long for an easier life?’

  He raised an eyebrow. How and why did she know what his life looked like?

  He watched their waiter place their food on the table—tajarin pasta with wild mushrooms for Alice and roasted venison loin for him—before he asked, ‘Are you keeping tabs on me?’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘Good God, no. My mum is an avid reader of celebrity magazines, and ever since Kara married into your family she thinks it’s her duty to keep up with all of your lives. I could equally tell you about Ivo’s win in Henley and your father’s trip to Canada this autumn. But you leave both of them standing when it comes to coverage in the media—do you ever take time out? Does being so hectic make you happy?’

  He laughed at her question but it came out half-heartedly. Under her calm grey-eyed gaze he started to feel undone. No one had ever asked him that question before—if he was happy. And she seemed genuinely intrigued by his lifestyle. Not in a judgemental way, but more as though it was something she really wanted to understand about him. But how could he explain the restlessness inside of him to her? The need for change and novelty and the energy of others? The need to feel alive? How being alone brought demons he didn’t want to know about to the fore? He focused on cutting into his venison, anything to break the unnerving way she was studying him, and nodded towards her plate, encouraging her to eat too. ‘Your mum will be reading less about me from now on—I’m moving back to Monrosa to take up my royal duties.’

  ‘What about your powerboat career?’

  He cleared his throat, the thought of what he was leaving acting like a punch to his heart. ‘I promised my father that as soon as I won the Global Series I would return to Monrosa.’

  Laying her fork back into her pasta bowl, she said, ‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic.’

  He shrugged. ‘It’s what I need to do.’

  Lifting her fork again, she rolled the pasta on the prongs. ‘At least you’ll be able to spend time with your family now.’

  ‘As long as my father doesn’t try to force me to marry.’

  Alice dropped her fork. Damn it, he had forgotten that she knew nothing about how his father had forced Edwin to marry Kara.

  ‘Why on earth would he do that?’ she asked.

  ‘Because it’s tradition and what’s expected of all royals. We’re expected to settle down, produce heirs and live happily ever after.’

  Alice’s head tilted as she studied him. ‘And you don’t want any of those things?’

  He never had this type of conversation. His friendships and past relationships were based on having a good time. Not this type of soul-searching. And despite his better judgement he heard himself admit, ‘I don’t want to spend my life second-guessing the feelings of someone else for me.’

  ‘I don’t understand what you mean by that.’

  The need to get up and walk away itched inside of him. He pulled at his shirt collar, his eyes shifting away from hers. Dio! It was hot in here. He was about to make a joke of it, but looking her in the eye again, her calm intelligence, had him confess, ‘You think that my lifestyle is exhausting...well, I find relationships exhausting. Despite media accounts, I am not a serial dater. I’ve had a handful of serious relationships but they have never worked out. I get restless in relationships. I don’t like the constant worry of what someone else is thinking and feeling. I’ve now decided it’s easier to be alone. And despite my father’s wishes, I neve
r intend on marrying.’

  She gave a faint smile at that. ‘Whatever makes you happy, Luis—that’s what’s important. We all don’t have to follow the same path in life. Even if others can’t or refuse to understand and accept that decision.’

  Taken aback by the sad resignation in her voice, thinking of her spending the next week alone, he said, ‘Maybe your mum is right and you should return to Ireland.’

  ‘Have you not been listening to me? I have my thesis to finish. And right now that’s not happening anytime fast.’

  ‘How long have you been working on it?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Three very long years.’

  ‘Maybe you need a break from it for the next few days. Is there anyone in London you could spend time with, just relaxing?’

  ‘No—my best friend, Toni, is the only person I know who lives in London and she’s in Australia at the moment. You may have heard of her boyfriend, Dan Ferguson?’

  ‘No.’

  Taking her phone from her bag, she said, ‘Last year his TV series on Italian history was a major hit.’ She showed him the screen of her phone. On it, a tall blond-haired man wearing dark-framed glasses was surrounded by a large group of beaming women, his expression one of utter bafflement. ‘He’s especially a huge hit with female fans. Apparently they all love his geeky look. Toni thinks it’s hilarious. Her awkward and shy boyfriend a sex symbol.’

  He studied the photo. Suddenly not too keen on Dan Ferguson. ‘Do you think he’s a sex symbol?’

  She laughed at that, her eyes dancing with merriment. ‘Dan? No! God, no!’ Then, pausing, she looked at him with bewilderment.

  He cleared his throat. ‘Is there anyone waiting for you back in Dublin, a boyfriend?’

  * * *

  She pushed her pasta bowl away. She had barely touched it but suddenly she had lost her appetite. Would Luis stop staring at her so intently? Did he somehow know, detect something in her? She tried not to redden. It was no one’s business what her relationship history was like and the decisions she had taken, but she could never shake off the dread for being judged for it. Even by a guy who had admitted to not being particularly good at relationships himself. ‘No.’

  For the longest while Luis studied her across the table. She felt herself grow even more scarlet. He would laugh. She knew he would. Of course, one of the world’s most eligible bachelors, a sophisticated prince, a champion sportsman, a man who had dated some of the most beautiful women in the world, would be amused to know that she was still a virgin.

  ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

  She glanced down at his half-eaten plate of food. ‘What about your lunch?’

  Not answering her, he motioned to the maître d’, who, after a quick conversation with Luis in Spanish, reappeared with their bill. Luis refused to allow her to pay for the lunch or even pay for her share.

  Outside, they walked back in the direction of the British Library. From every shop doorway came the sound of cheerful Christmas songs.

  At the entrance to Regent’s Park he said he knew a shortcut to the library. The park was quiet but for some runners and families all bundled up in rain gear for yet more forecasted heavy rain later in the day.

  ‘I’m guessing we have messy relationship histories in common?’

  She shrugged at his question. ‘I wouldn’t say so.’ She should change the conversation but for some reason the need to tell Luis the truth burned inside her. Why, she couldn’t understand. But there had been something in their kiss, something in his care last night, and in all of those awkward moments when their eyes locked and neither of them seemed capable of looking away, that had her add, ‘You have histories, I don’t.’

  Under a towering bare-branched oak, he pulled her to a stop. ‘What do you mean...you must have some relationship history?’

  Did he have to sound so surprised? She tried not to wince and decided to try to laugh it all off. ‘I don’t think I can count my one and only very brief relationship, as it was so long ago. I was nineteen and it only lasted a year and even at that we lived in different cities, as he was away at university. But, trust me, it confirmed my belief that I’m better out of relationships. He said that I made him unhappy. And I guess I did—he wanted more from the relationship than I could ever give. And with the benefit of hindsight I can see that he wasn’t good for me—he wasn’t the most patient of people.’

  Over his white shirt he was wearing a heavy woollen coat, the seam of the collar done in dark bronze thread. She stared at the collar and the tanned skin of his neck. Evening shadow was already there. No wonder he had grown a beard. The effort of keeping clean-shaven must be a tiresome daily battle. But she preferred him clean-shaven. Preferred seeing the sharp, clean edge of his jawline. This was new to her. Not once before had she been drawn to a man like this.

  ‘And you haven’t been in a relationship since?’

  Heat flamed in her belly at the soft tone of his voice.

  She swallowed hard. Fell into the beauty of his eyes. Deep, deep green with flecks of brown. ‘No.’

  He tilted his head, shifted his body to stand even closer to her. ‘Why?’

  They were alone on the tree-lined path, the day darkening around them. When other people asked her that question she always told them that she was too busy with her studies, that she was perfectly content on her own. But with Luis she wanted to tell him the truth, especially after last night. ‘After my dad, I never want to be dependent on someone else.’

  His hand touched her jaw. ‘I guess we do have that in common—an aversion to relationships.’

  His head tilted closer. Her head spun. His nose came close to touching hers. His hand on her jawline was warm and gentle. Seconds passed. His eyes held hers.

  Kiss me! Kiss me before I pass out. I know I should walk away. I have work to do and you have a flight to catch. But would one more kiss matter? We wouldn’t see each other again for a very long time.

  What was he waiting for? She wasn’t experienced when it came to men but surely the way his pupils were enlarged meant he was feeling the same pull of desire? Was she going to have to kiss him...again?

  She shifted onto her toes. Their noses touched.

  His gaze darkened. Her heart pounded in her ears.

  Before you go, kiss me one more time. I want to soar, to feel alive.

  His mouth brushed against hers. She felt faint with the need for more.

  She almost cried out when he pulled back way too soon.

  He raked a hand through his hair, his mouth tense. ‘I’m staying in London with you for Christmas.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ALICE LET OUT an impatient breath. The house on Fitzalen Square was ablaze with lights, so she took it that Luis was still at home. She had hoped that he would have already left for the dinner party he had invited her to earlier by text message. She had messaged back saying she couldn’t go with him. In return he had sent her a video clip from an old black and white movie, of a guy standing outside a department store, impeccably dressed and carrying a bunch of flowers, looking comically hangdog and forlorn as he realised that his date wasn’t turning up. Despite her pledge after his shock announcement that he was staying in London for Christmas that she was going to do her best to ignore his presence and the knots he was tying her up into, she had laughed long and hard at the video, earning herself stern looks from her fellow readers in the library.

  Why couldn’t he have gone home to Monrosa? It would have made her life a whole lot easier. She needed peace and solitude. She wasn’t able to figure him out. Why was he really staying in London? He claimed it was to keep her company, but why would someone forgo their Christmas to spend it with a stranger? What was he up to?

  Turning, she studied the small park behind her at the centre of Fitzalen Square, which had been transformed for the festive period into Christmas Central. Beneath a huge Chr
istmas tree a temporary stage was playing host to a gospel group who were entertaining a large audience. To the rear of the central fountain, a Christmas market was busy with shoppers now that the earlier heavy rain had given way to a crisp, clear night sky.

  She shuddered as the choir broke into a popular Christmas song. Her dad had used to sing it in the car. She glanced back at the house. And then at her phone. It was close to eight. Luis must be leaving for his dinner party soon.

  Bracing herself, she entered the park, deciding to take refuge in the Christmas market. She would find a stall selling coffee and buy a triple espresso. She had a long night of writing ahead of herself.

  Head down, she ignored the stalls, but from the corner of her eye she spotted handcrafted baubles and a stall selling pine wreaths with enormous red bows. She came to a stop, intrigued, when a little boy exclaimed in delight at a stall laden down with a ceramic Christmas village snow scene that featured the most exquisite crafted churches and houses and miniature people and animals straight out of an Alpine village. Bending down, she gazed into the window of a wooden cabin, smiling at the scene inside of a family hanging Christmas stockings, the youngest child hanging both hers and that of the family dog, who was seated at her side. When the stall owner asked her if she wanted some help, she shook her head and backed away.

  The food stalls were all placed to the rear of the market. She groaned to see a long line at the stand selling hot beverages. She eyed a couple walking away from the stall, both of them laughing in delight at the huge dollop of cream and chocolate shavings on top of their hot chocolates. Her stomach growled. And she turned away when the couple stopped and kissed, laughter and happiness shining in their eyes.

  A few stalls down there was a doughnut stand. She hesitated for a moment but then marched up to it. Stood in line. Ordered one doughnut but then changed her mind and ordered three. Well, it was a three-for-the-price-of-two offer after all.