The Ordinary Princess

by Liz Fielding

  ‘Not then. Then I believed—’ She lifted her face, shivered as the cool breeze off the river chilled her damp cheeks. ‘I’m glad I was wrong. Not that it mattered in the end. Because I couldn’t go through with it. Those are the photographs, negatives. I wrote you a note. I tried to explain…’

  He touched her cheeks, wiped them with his fingers, drying tears that she hadn’t been aware of shedding.

  ‘My heart didn’t let me down, Laura. It was my head that did that. Too much logic. But last night, my darling, I confronted reality. I told you I would walk away from any woman I loved enough to share my life with. Because I would spare her that. And I discovered that what was easy to say when you’ve never been in love is an altogether different matter when you cannot imagine life without that woman.’

  Just as well she wasn’t princess material. That she was just an ordinary girl. One who was in touch with reality. “‘In love” is a temporary madness, Xander. You’ll get over it. We both will.’

  Maybe.

  ‘A temporary madness, maybe, but one for which you would give away photographs that would earn you a small fortune.’

  ‘Probably,’ she admitted.

  He smiled then. ‘You have already given them. Are they very good photographs?’

  She took them from him, opened the package. Handed them to him one at a time. He looked at each one for a long time. ‘Your aunt is very talented, Laura. They are beautiful photographs. Bad photographs would have earned you a small fortune. For these you could name your price.’

  All that was left in her hand was the note, and she offered it to him. He shook his head. ‘I don’t need that,’ he said. ‘There is nothing that I don’t already know about you.’

  ‘No.’ Well, the word ‘journalist’ said it all. ‘Will you take me home now, please?’

  ‘You think my decision not to marry is an over-reaction, don’t you?’ he said, ignoring her plea.

  ‘It’s your choice. I respect it.’

  ‘But you don’t understand it. No one does. Only my grandfather.’ He put the photographs into his pocket and took her arm, began to walk. ‘You’re a journalist, so I imagine you’ve done your homework on the Orsino family. You’ll know the official version of how my parents died.’

  ‘In a tragic boating accident. They were out on a lake, a romantic break, a reconciliation after problems with their marriage. There was an explosion, probably a gas leak.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that, Laura. My father had been photographed at a party behaving somewhat indiscreetly with another woman. It wasn’t spectacularly bad behaviour.’ He shrugged. ‘Not spectacularly good, either. I’m not making excuses for him but he paid a high price for a moment of stupidity. But you know how it is—when you’re heir to an ancient throne everything you do is interesting to a certain section of the press. Especially the stupid things.’

  ‘I don’t understand. What has this to do with the explosion?’

  ‘My mother was fragile. There were, as you’ve heard, rumours that their marriage was in trouble. The truth was that she’d had a series of miscarriages and was suffering from severe depression. She already felt a complete failure as a wife, a woman, and when she saw that photograph she wrote my father a note, begging his forgiveness for letting him down so badly. Then she took an overdose. When my father found her, read the note, he shot himself. The reconciliation—the boating accident—the explosion—it was all a stage-managed cover-up by my grandfather to explain the two deaths and the fact that my father’s coffin had to be closed.’

  ‘He told you this?’ she asked, horrified.

  ‘No, it was my grandmother. When she was dying. I was getting something of a reputation myself and she was afraid I was going to repeat my father’s mistakes. She wanted to warn me how easy it is to hurt someone beyond repair.’

  That was when he’d sought the sanctuary of Juliet’s family home. Decided to change his life. And even that had been disturbed by press intrusion. No wonder he hated them all so much, she thought. She reached out, took his hand, held it.

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  He turned to her. ‘I didn’t tell you so that you would feel sorry for me, Laura. I told you because I wanted to show you that I trust you. I am now entirely in your hands. My entire family is now in your hands.’ He took them, held them palm up. ‘Right here.’

  ‘You are safe enough, Xander. I set out to find the man behind the prince,’ she said. ‘I found him.’

  ‘You did more than that. You changed him. I don’t know how else to show my sincerity. My total faith in you.’

  ‘It is not misplaced. Truly. I will hold your secrets in my heart.’

  ‘And me? Is there room in your heart for an unreconstructed, arrogant autocrat?’

  ‘Xander?’

  ‘I am asking if there is any way that a republican—one with a very small R—could ever consider becoming a princess?’

  She could scarcely breathe. ‘So what happened to the “love a woman enough to walk away” scenario?’

  ‘I was twenty-three when I made that decision. Young. Hurting. Afraid that my grandmother was right. And between then and now I have not met a woman with the strength to jerk me out of that self-pity.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘I met you, desired you from the moment I first set eyes on you. And then I fell in love with you. Nothing else would have brought me to your flat, carrying your jacket like my own footman.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You begged me to love you, Laura. I was a long way ahead of you. And now I find that despite the noble gestures, fine words, walking away is not an option. You are strong, Laura. Together we will be unbeatable. Will you marry me? Be my wife.’

  ‘But… But…’ This was ridiculous. ‘I can’t marry you.’

  ‘I’m afraid you must, cara…. How else can I be sure my secrets are safe?’

  On the point of declaring vehemently that she would never betray him, she stopped. ‘Well, yes,’ she said seriously. ‘I suppose that would be a constant worry for you.’

  ‘The only alternative is to have you locked up in the Tower.’

  ‘For the tourists to gawp at?’

  He finally smiled. ‘I’d come every day.’

  ‘Xander, it’s impossible. I’m far too ordinary.’

  ‘The world needs more ordinary princesses, my love. With heart, compassion, honour. Will you be my princess, my darling? Use your wonderful spirit and charm to help me take my country into this new century?’ He raised her palms to his lips, then looked up directly into her eyes. ‘I know you’ll forgive me for mentioning this, but you are going to need a new career.’

  ‘Marriage—’ she declared roundly ‘—is not a career.’

  ‘It is when you’re sleeping with the head of state.’

  ‘But—’ At that point His Serene Highness Prince Alexander Michael George Orsino remembered that he was supposed to be an autocrat. And he decided to act like one.

  And the last coherent thought Laura had, for a very long time, was that Trevor would get his exclusive after all.

  Their engagement was announced the morning of Ladies’ Day at Royal Ascot. Laura drove along the course in an open carriage as part of the royal procession, with Xander beside her and his delighted grandfather and Katie sitting opposite them. The young Princess had declared that she wouldn’t miss it for anything—even if it did mean she looked like a pink mushroom.

  The following morning it was that photograph which appeared on the front page of every newspaper. But only Trevor had more than the simple details set out in the press release. Only he had a picture feature showing how the Crown Prince of Montorino had courted his ordinary princess. Walking in the park, feeding ducks, and even one of His Serene Highness apparently purchasing an onion at a street market.

  The world was charmed, as he had been, by his ordinary princess and their fairy tale romance. And the fees raised by the pictures, syndicated throughout the world, were put into a charitable trust to
be administered by Her Serene Highness Princess Laura. Just one of the many important and exciting new jobs awaiting her when she returned from her honeymoon.

  But first there was the wedding.

  The ceremony took place in September, when there were autumn crocuses in the alpine meadows and the first snows were frosting the highest peaks of the mountains.

  Laura arrived at the door of Montorino’s ancient cathedral in a fairy tale coach drawn by six white horses. She had no close male relative she wanted to ask to give her away. Jay rode with her, walked with her down the long aisle towards her prince, followed by Katie and half a dozen tiny bridesmaids.

  And in that moment she did not feel ordinary. It was nothing to do with the heavy silk of her classically simple gown, its tiny cut-away bolero covering her shoulders and arms in the cathedral. Or the fabulously long train. Or the diamonds in the tiara that Xander had commissioned for her to wear on this day.

  It was the look in his eyes as he broke with tradition, left his supporters and walked down the aisle to meet her. The way he held out his hand, as if he was offering her his heart. As she reached for it, took it, held it, it was for a moment as if they were quite alone.

  And then he turned and they walked together towards the altar where they would say the vows that would bind them together for ever.

  After the grandeur of the wedding they disappeared from the face of the earth for six weeks, lost to the world as they enjoyed the quiet simplicity of Xander’s vineyard. Enjoying the harvest festival after the pressing of the grapes.

  ‘Tomorrow we have to stop playing at being rustics and return to normality, my love,’ Xander said as he joined her in bed. ‘Are you ready for that?’

  ‘Well, I haven’t had a lifetime’s training like your sister, or Katie,’ she said. ‘Maybe they could help?’

  ‘Forget I asked. You’ll be great. Actually, you’re already great. You’ve done more to raise the profile of Montorino that I could have done in twenty years.’

  ‘I’m glad you appreciate me, because there is something I need to make clear before we go back to the capital. About the future.’

  Xander traced a finger down her cheek. ‘I’m beginning to recognise that tone in your voice. It’s your “you’d better listen to me” voice. The one you used on Katie. And on me when you refused to kneel so that I could invest you with the Order of Merit.’

  ‘I’m glad you realise that.’ His fingertip had reached a particularly sensitive spot just below her jaw, and Laura was having a hard time keeping her face straight, her voice firm. ‘It means I will only have to say this once.’ She caught his hand, held it. ‘On the subject of children—’

  ‘Our children?’ he murmured, resorting to kissing her shoulder.

  ‘Of course our children.’ He stilled. Looked up. ‘When they arrive,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Tell me about our children arriving,’ he said, reclaiming his hand, laying it over her belly.

  ‘Well, the first may be a girl—’

  ‘If it’s not a boy,’ he agreed.

  ‘And if it’s a girl, I will expect her to be treated equally.’ Now she had his attention. ‘In everything.’

  ‘Laura, darling, you cannot fly in the face of a thousand years of history.’

  ‘I can’t. I realise that. But you’re an autocrat. You can do whatever you want.’

  ‘Is that so? And this being an autocrat—remind me—does it mean that everyone does what I say? Without question?’

  ‘Everyone,’ she assured him. ‘Except me. We have equal billing in this relationship.’

  ‘We do?’ He grinned. ‘We do.’

  ‘So I think a decree would do it, something simple. Before the first one arrives would be best.’

  His palm stroked the soft curves of her body. ‘And are we working to a fixed time frame?’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing set in stone, but I thought we might make a start any time in the next few minutes…’

  His Serene Highness Prince Alexander Michael George Orsino looked up into the face of his beloved wife and tradition didn’t stand a chance.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she demanded, as he made a move.

  ‘To draft that decree.’

  But she slid down the bed, holding him captive. ‘I’ve already prepared a draft, my prince. You can execute it tomorrow. I’ve got other plans for tonight.’

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-7680-6

  THE ORDINARY PRINCESS

  First North American Publication 2003.

  Copyright © 2003 by Liz Fielding.

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