How to Love a Princess

by Claire Robyns

  She wanted to give back a little of what she’d taken. A part of her knew why he’d brought her here and a part of her had already consented to his will, but she could do better. She could give him this time without holding anything back at all. Head, heart and soul. The price she’d pay was no more than he’d already paid.

  As he walked to the vehicle and opened the boot to stick his head inside, Catherine ducked around the side of the house and sprinted to the shed. She was back before he came out again, but the short run had cleared her head and made place for doubts.

  “What are we doing?” she asked softly as he reached her, his hands full with a mix of heavy-duty tools and other scraps, such as a paper clip and an old dog collar that had been forgotten.

  “Breaking in?” he said with a grin, although that faded as he searched her eyes and found the sombre note.

  “After everything that’s happened, how can you not be angry?”

  “I’m not angry,” Nicolas corrected. “I’m furious.”

  He saw her chin lift, her eyes cool, her body stiffen, and immediately dropped his booty to the floor and gathered her into his chest. “I won’t belittle our disagreement. It is serious and nowhere near over. We’re both angry, frustrated, convinced of our own righteousness and determined to win.”

  As he spoke, he stroked her hair, caressed her cheek with the edge of his thumb, cupped her chin in his palm. “We have a problem and it’s going to get worse before we’re through. I hate that you’d go against me in this, that you cannot see the consequences as I see them, but I’ll never hate you. I love you. I want you. Put away the fight for a couple of hours. I want to make love to you and then I want to hold you in my arms and think of nothing else. Give us this moment.”

  He felt her melt against him.

  “In that case,” Catherine murmured, pushing her way out of his arms, “you’d better get started on that lock.”

  He held her gaze a moment longer, then dropped to his knees to sort through the mess at his feet.

  Her heart pounded at what was happening, at the fantasy he’d painted, and for just this once, she wasn’t going to deny it. This wasn’t just for him. This was about both giving and taking. “This isn’t going to change my mind, you know.”

  He grinned up at her. “It isn’t going to change mine either.”

  Catherine laughed at his cheeky arrogance. “Stalemate?”

  “Truce,” he countered.

  She let the last niggling doubt float away on the gusty wind.

  Give us this moment.

  No regrets. No worries over tomorrow. And if a little flicker of hope strummed her heart, whispering that maybe Gascon was right and she was wrong, maybe Nicolas was different, so be it.

  Her lips curled up in amusement as she watched him attack the door lock with everything ranging from a paper clip to a screwdriver. “Having a little trouble with your high IQ?”

  He threw the screwdriver down in disgust and pushed up from his knees, eyeing the door with a scowl. “I could always kick it in.”

  Catherine reached into her coat pocket and brought back the key she’d retrieved from its hiding place in the shed. “Or we could use this.”

  When he saw the key she dropped into his palm, he turned on her, his eyes glinting dangerously.

  “You’ll pay for this, cucciola,” he growled, scooping her up into his arms and following her squeal with a shout of laughter as his mouth closed down on her lips. The kiss quickly went from playful to tender to urgent.

  Shifting her weight to free one hand, he unlocked the door and carried her across the threshold.

  From his parked position behind two thick bushes, Gascon chuckled to himself as the cabin door closed them in and him out. He considered waiting, then started the engine with the turn of the key as he dismissed the idea.

  Catherine was in safe hands for now.

  Besides, Nicolas had asked him to look into something. Well, not exactly asked. He’d phrased it as a request, but there’d been nothing short of a command in his tone.

  With another chuckle, he slammed the gears into reverse. He hadn’t seen this day coming. The day he took orders from anyone other than Catherine or the queen.

  8

  Catherine was in a smiling, kitten-with-creamed-whiskers mood as Nicolas bundled her into his jacket and lifted her out of the Land Rover and into his arms. The feisty wind had brought black clouds that had unleashed a storm while they were at the cabin. Reluctant as they were for their stolen afternoon to end, they’d nevertheless used a momentary lapse in the lashing rain to return to the castle and reality.

  “I can walk, you know,” Catherine protested feebly as he carried her across the puddle-ridden courtyard. Very feebly. She wasn’t ready to let go of the intimacy they’d rekindled. She’d never be ready.

  Nicolas gave her a decidedly wolfish grin. “I like having you in my arms and I didn’t hear any complaints earlier.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but was content to hang onto his neck and snuggle deeper. Just a moment longer.

  Maybe forever, whispered her heart.

  She pressed her cheek into the soft wool of his jumper, inhaling deeply of his scent, smiling at the rapturous hours they’d shared; making love in front of the fire he’d built; sipping hot chocolate and talking, laughing, remembering; holding each other in a silence filled with tender love words, their eyes exchanging secret promises made in the moment but with a depth of commitment to hold a lifetime.

  Maybe forever, Catherine agreed dreamily. But even as she thought it, the doubts returned. They were too real to be dampened by a dream.

  She’d seen her father, once an Illinois state senator, crushed by Ophella’s demands. The few times he’d returned to visit had been ruled by the bitter rows that had originally driven him away. His pride hammered with each proposed policy passed over by his wife, the authority he’d once had shred to pieces by the woman who was supposed to love, honour and obey him—the result had not only destroyed the love between her parents, it had destroyed the man. The last time she’d seen him, he’d looked emaciated, his skin blotchy and red, his hair thinned, lips pinched, his tongue the wasp that stung the last of her hope…and then she’d never seen him again, didn’t even know where he lived. Now and again a report filtered through and then he disappeared again.

  When they reached the door, Nicolas slid her down his body with provocative slowness, taking her mouth in a lingering kiss as her feet touched the ground.

  Tingling from the urgency of his lips, warmed by the length of their bodies pressed up close, unaccountably delighted at his possessive gaze prolonging the kiss long after it ended, Catherine clasped her fingers tightly into his when he took her hand.

  Not forever, she reassured herself, but maybe just a little longer.

  Before opening the door, Nicolas pulled her flush against his side, forcing their linked hands behind them and out of sight.

  To keep her close and closer.

  To protect the link that bound them from the rest of the world.

  His reasons were there for her to see in the brown gaze that burnt into her and branded her soul. A surge of love overwhelmed her and she had to hold on, lean into him, as she stumbled through the doorway.

  Serge was hovering in the hallway and Catherine dismissed him with a smile. Clearly, Serge had seen their vehicle pull up some time ago and had been debating her preference to come and go without him standing on ceremony at the door.

  Unfortunately, there was more. Instead of leaving, Serge approached in his usual decorous manner. “Mr. Talacon arrived shortly before the lunch hour, ma’am. He awaits you in the reception room.”

  “Thank you, Serge.” Catherine glanced up at Nicolas. “Geoffrey’s father is here. I’m afraid I have to see him. Come with me?”

  “I have things to do in the lab,” he said. “You go ahead.”

  “I’ll pop in later,” she promised, but when she tried to extract her hand, he held on. She laughed so
ftly. “You have to let go.”

  “I will.” He grinned, doing no such thing as he looked straight ahead.

  Catherine turned from him just in time to see Serge disappear through a doorway. No sooner had the door closed, than she felt Nicolas’s fingers tilt her chin back up to him. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, and left her wanting more.

  “Now you may go,” he said with a chuckle, releasing her hand.

  After greeting Harvey Talacon and enjoying a pleasant half hour with him and Geoffrey, Catherine excused herself to catch up on the work she’d neglected.

  “I’m sorry you had such a short visit with my mother,” she told Harvey. “She usually feels better in the mornings. If the weather lets up tomorrow, maybe you could take her for a walk in the gardens.”

  His eyes crinkled in concern as he patted her hand. “I look forward to that.”

  She gave Geoffrey an encouraging smile, aware from certain remarks sprinkled into the conversation that he’d not yet broken his news to his father.

  “I’ll see both of you at supper,” Catherine added as she took her leave.

  The last thing she felt capable of was concentrating on the minutes of the meeting and actioning the outstanding points, plus whatever else had accumulated while she’d played hooky. She curled her legs up on the wide windowsill in her office and stared unseeing into the unrelenting rain coming down in sheets against the window, taking a few long moments to savour the warm feeling in her tummy that lingered on from the cabin. She could have stayed like that till supper, reliving every touch, smile and word. She could have.

  “But I have work to do,” she insisted firmly, removing herself to her desk and the stack of papers Erling had left out for her. The top page was a printed email message, sent from Nicolas to Erling and left for her approval. As she read, she felt her heart grow physically heavier, every word another rock piled on to weigh her down. She pinched her eyes closed, struggling for composure and instead saw the tower of dreams she’d promised not to build collapse.

  With that came anger. It coiled low in her gut, then grew and grew, brewing into a fury to match the raging storm outside.

  Damn the man.

  She was on her feet, marching from her office, up the stairs, down the left fork from the landing, her body fuelled on anger aimed as much at herself as at Nicolas for the impending devastation.

  Nicolas was bent over a long table, test tube in one hand, the other hovering over the keyboard of his computer.

  “Why?” she demanded from the doorway.

  His gaze flew up, his instant grin of recognition faltering before it fully formed. “Catherine.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Arms clasped about her midriff to hide the trembling of emotions, she took a slow walk up to the table.

  With precise, visibly controlled movements, he slotted the test tube in its stand, then straightened. His eyes hardened and he had the audacity to feign innocence. “Doing what?”

  “The meeting you’ve requested,” she snapped, her glare every bit as hard as his. “You couldn’t even come to me. You went behind my back to Erling.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then the tension in his eyes and jaw relaxed. “I didn’t go behind your back, Catherine. I emailed the details to Erling, well aware your approval would be required, down to the last attendee and item of discussion.”

  “Don’t be pedantic. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” He walked around the table.

  For a moment, she thought he was coming at her, to take her in his arms, to kiss her senseless, to make her forget. As he’d done this afternoon without a trace of guilt. Her spine stiffened, preparing to defend what little was left of her heart. Instead, he headed for a cabinet, hunkering down to delve inside it. As if her accusation was so trivial, so inconsequential, it required only half his attention.

  She turned to blast him, never mind that all he gave her was his back. “I’m talking about this afternoon, Nicolas. You let it happen—no, you made it happen, allowed me to believe.”

  Her words choked on the realisation of what she was saying. Why she really felt so blindsided.

  She was an idiot. A fool. She’d told herself she was listening to her head, giving and taking with a clear understanding of the limits and consequences, when all the while she’d in fact been trusting in those whispers of her heart.

  Nicolas came up with another set of test tubes, looking at her with a bland expression as he went behind his table once again. “If you’re asking me to regret this afternoon, Catherine, then the answer is no. Neither am I some ogre in this wonderland you live in.”

  “You deliberately deceived me.”

  His jaw went rigid. His hand came up, the stand of test tubes rattling precariously as his arm swept outward. Cursing beneath his breath, he broke off from her heated glare to concentrate on putting the rack down carefully.

  And then, finally, Nicolas gave her his full attention. “We had a mutual understanding. Nothing would change your mind and nothing would change mine either. Are you so damn self opinionated that you assumed only your side of the bargain counted?”

  Her chin lifted stubbornly, her eyes ice blue and cutting through him. “Don’t shift the blame. There’d have been no bargain if I knew of your intentions.”

  “Intentions?” Nicolas bit out irritably. “All I did was request a meeting with you and your advisors and a panel of experts. Only you could make that sound evil.”

  Her eyes narrowed into him. “And you didn’t come directly to me because you knew it would interfere in the bit of fun you’d planned for the afternoon.”

  “No.” Nicolas rubbed at his temples, then dragged his fingers down his face. When he’d sent that email, his only intention had been to stay as far away from Catherine as possible to spare them both the agony. “I emailed Erling because he is your secretary and, as far as I’m aware, handles your first line of correspondence.”

  The silence lasted, until he was eventually forced to move his hands and look at Catherine.

  “You should have told me and you know it.” She sounded more sad than angry now. “You should have told me before carrying me inside that cabin. If you’re as innocent as you want me to believe, then tell me why you didn’t and don’t you dare pretend it never crossed your mind.”

  His conscience went ragged at the truth. He should admit it and let her win.

  Nicolas shook his head on a sigh as his heart refused to give up so easily. “I asked you to give us that moment away from everything else, just the two of us, and you agreed. I thought you meant it. I certainly did, which is the reason I never mentioned the meeting.”

  He didn’t feel noble about the partial omission, but then he was beginning to wonder if there was anything noble about love at all.

  He’d come close to walking away in that first week he’d come to Ophella. No matter how much he’d protested Catherine doubting him, he had almost walked; the first time his dedication to saving life had ever come into question. And hadn’t he’d wished Catherine dead, if only for a split second, to spare his aching heart? He’d taunted Geoffrey and pressurised Catherine to bend to his will, more than likely breaking up an engagement in the process.

  Nicolas knew he was no saint, but he’d always had compassion first, until proven wrong. Now it felt as if all he knew was anger, fighting and duplicity.

  All in the name of love lost, found, and if he wasn’t totally ruthless, lost again.

  “You’re the one who insisted this fight wasn’t personal,” he added when she showed no sign of relenting. “What happened this afternoon has nothing to do with Ophella and how you decide to rule it, right or wrong. I won’t apologise for not bringing up your business diary in between kisses.”

  Catherine could think of a hundred retorts to that, but she felt as if her emotions had run the gamut and now she was back at anger, a place she didn’t want to be. Besides, her anger had nothing to do with right o
r wrong, with Nicolas’s stubborn opposition and their difference of opinion. What she wanted to hit out at was the inevitable conclusion of the path he’d chosen to go up against her.

  “And what if I refuse to grant this meeting?” she asked, steeling herself for his attack.

  It came. The cold disdain set in his jaw. The hard questions in his dark stare, as if he debated what he’d ever loved about her, whether he’d ever truly known her.

  “I never took you for a coward, Catherine. Are you afraid to hear what that panel of experts has to say?”

  She didn’t argue. She’d rather he keep his reasons than voice her own.

  He brought his fist down hard, but, at the last moment, he splayed his fingers to brace his palm on the table with a show of absolute control. “You should be, you know. I realise you don’t trust my judgement in this, but you might not be able to ignore a team of geologists and toxicologists so easily.”

  “I do trust your judgement,” Catherine protested quietly. “And I hope you’ll trust mine. This meeting will do nothing to persuade my mind otherwise, so I don’t see the point.”

  “There’s more than one point. I’m hoping one or more of those experts will join my investigative team.” He shook his head at her. “But you won’t see the importance of that either, will you?”

  They were going in circles. Again. “Think what you will, Nicolas,” she said, slowly backing toward the door.

  “I prefer to do, Catherine. This doesn’t stop here.”

  “What—what do you mean? There’s nothing more—”

  “Isn’t there? I wonder if your council of advisors would dismiss the relevance of informed decisions as quickly as you do.”

  “They don’t have the power to overrule me,” Catherine warned.

  “Maybe not, but at least they have the power to make you listen, something I’m clearly unable to achieve.”

  Trapped! So cleverly, so neatly. She could hardly protest her council from calling a meeting to hear the facts from all available sources and advise. It was what they did.