Christmas Encounter with a Prince

by Katrina Cudmore

  Leaning further into the table, she placed both arms on the white linen cloth. ‘Kara rang me earlier; she’s disappointed you won’t be in Monrosa for Christmas.’

  ‘Trust me, I know. Edwin has made that perfectly clear.’

  For long moments she eyed him and then, pushing back into her chair, she folded her arms and said quietly, ‘You’re not staying in London just for my sake, are you? It’s an excuse not to go home, isn’t it?’

  For a split second he was going to argue that she was wrong. Hating to be called out, suddenly feeling like a cad. He closed his eyes for a moment and then, opening them, admitted, ‘Wanting to help you was my primary reasoning...but I will admit that it was a convenient excuse not to spend Christmas in Monrosa too.’

  ‘At least you admitted it...’ She bit her lip and stared towards their reflections, a deep heat colouring her cheeks. ‘My father used to play mind games with me...’ yet another deep inhale was followed by a shrug, and then she looked at him. ‘Promise me you won’t do the same. Promise me you’ll always be honest with me.’

  The simplicity of her words but the emotion behind them, the depth to them, the endless possible implications of them, left him momentarily bowled over. His heart was racing for reasons he couldn’t comprehend and on a shaky exhale he reached his hand across the table. ‘I promise.’

  Ever so slowly she laid her hand in his.

  They smiled at one another. An unsure but intimate smile. That felt as through every certainty he believed in was being pulled right from underneath him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ALREADY PRETTY SHAKEN by the unexpected powerful intimacy of her conversation with Luis, Alice stared in disbelief when their waiter led them to their outdoor space that was positioned in the seclusion of a small upper terrace on the restaurant roof.

  What had she got herself into?

  The waiter had promised them views and yes, there they were—the Thames and all the stunning iconic buildings that lay along her meandering path through London—but what he had failed to mention was that instead of sitting at a table they were going to have dessert whilst lying on a double daybed. And he had also failed to mention that they would be all alone up here.

  ‘We can go back downstairs if you prefer,’ Luis said.

  Was her dismay that obvious?

  For crying out loud, Alice, it’s a daybed. You’re both fully clothed and wearing heavy overcoats. Relax and enjoy yourself... How many times in your life will you get to lie next to a real-life prince in one of the most beautiful cities in the world? At least now, for once, you’ll have a story that will beat Toni’s exploits as the partner of a reluctant celebrity.

  Grabbing the cream and green striped woollen blanket at the bottom of the bed, she stepped out of her high heels and tried to lie down as gracefully as that manoeuvre would allow, trying to ignore his amusement.

  The rear of the bed was propped up, so after offering him a share of the blanket, which he refused, as she had hoped he would do, she tucked her legs beneath her, anchoring the blanket under her bare feet.

  Settling in, she closed her eyes, the distant traffic, the heat from the overhead outdoor heaters all surprisingly soothing. She tried to focus on her breathing...and not on Luis lying next to her, the way the mattress sagged at his movement, his arm brushing against hers. She shifted away. Breathed deeply into her lungs.

  Silence followed. She opened her eyes and let them wander in his direction. He was looking at her. She smiled. Feeling unaccountably shy.

  He smiled back.

  ‘Are you sure you were a sullen teenager? I can’t imagine you being one, given your perpetual sunny nature,’ she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. Unbuttoning his coat and then his navy suit jacket, he yanked his white shirt out of the waistband of his trousers and, lifting it up, revealed a small tattoo beside his ribs.

  She edged closer to see it, unconsciously touching a fingertip against the beauty of the tree tattooed on his golden skin—the powerful trunk giving way to soaring green branches.

  Seconds passed. Her finger lingered on the warmth of his skin. She knew she should pull away but something kept it there. She tried to ignore the tight awareness in the air between them. ‘I don’t think something this beautiful can be classed as rebellion.’

  He laughed. Caught hold of her finger, mischief glittering in his eyes. ‘It can if you’re a fifteen-year-old royal. Show me your tattoo.’

  ‘I don’t have one.’

  ‘What a surprise. I take it you were a model teenager.’

  She laughed at the fact that he had rightly guessed her clean-cut teenage years. But then, sobering, she admitted, a lump in her throat, ‘My mum had enough to contend with without me going off the rails.’

  He grimaced, lowering their hands to the mattress but not letting go of her finger. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She shrugged, wanting the hole that had opened up inside herself in remembering how haunted, how fragile her mum had been during her teenage years to disappear. ‘It’s okay.’ Taking her hand away from his, she pretend-frowned, wanting to keep this conversation light. ‘Why a tree? Most teenagers go for something dark, like a skull. A flourishing tree doesn’t exactly represent teenage rebellion.’

  Luis tucked his shirt back in and fastened his jacket button. ‘It’s on my mother’s family crest.’

  She grimaced. ‘Now it’s my turn to say sorry.’

  He went to speak. Stopped. And then gently said, ‘Sometimes I struggle to picture her, to remember her voice.’

  ‘It wasn’t fair that you lost her at such a young age... I still remember hearing about her death on the radio, I was in the car with my mum. The newsreader listed your ages, Luis was the same age as me—we were both only ten.’ Pausing, she rested her hand on his arm before admitting, ‘I remember crying, thinking about you all losing your mum and how terrible that must be.’

  For a moment his hand rested again on hers. And she stopped breathing at the hint of a grateful smile that lifted ever so slightly on his mouth. But at the sound of approaching footsteps he moved away.

  Their waiter placed their desserts on the tables on either side of the bed.

  She grinned at her chocolate mousse tower that had a disc of chocolate on top. Lifting the disc, she bit into it. ‘I adore chocolate.’

  He laughed. ‘So I gathered, given the state of that tin of chocolates last night.’

  Lifting her plate, she cut into the mousse tower. ‘If you’d had the day I had yesterday, you’d have eaten them too.’

  ‘I hope you’re not talking about my arrival?’ he asked with a grin, lifting out a spoon of his crème brûlée.

  ‘Well... I have to admit, your arrival was unexpected... Kara had promised me that the house would be empty.’

  ‘It’s surprising that we never met before Kara’s wedding—she’s mentioned you a lot over the years.’

  ‘I’d intended on visiting her but work always came in the way. And then things got awkward when I moved in with her dad.’ Seeing his quizzical look, she explained, ‘After I left school, I stayed working locally—I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, and I didn’t want to leave my mum. We had only moved to the town a few years previously and she didn’t know that many people. She struggled with panic attacks after she left my dad. One of the jobs I had was as a tour guide in the town’s Norman castle. I fell in love with history, thanks to that experience, and when my mum was well enough I went to university. I was twenty-two. I couldn’t afford any accommodation in Dublin so I moved in with Kara’s dad. But it wasn’t just because I was penniless—all of the family were worried about him.’ Placing her dessert back on her side table, her heart suddenly sore with emotion, she admitted, ‘Kara’s brother, Michael, you know...’

  ‘Yes. I know he died...’ he paused, his expression one of utter kindness and understanding, ‘and that
he took his own life.’

  ‘It was such a shock. He and Kara used to spend their summer holidays with us at my Aunt Nina’s house. We had been close—we grew apart as teenagers, but I have such lovely memories of Michael sitting on Cloghroe beach, reading his book or telling us over dinner some obscure fact. It was only in later years that I realised he used to make some of them up—he had once convinced us that Sir Walter Raleigh had stopped in Cloghroe Bay and was seen by locals burying something on the beach. All of us cousins spent the entire summer digging up the beach, which of course suited him perfectly, as we were too busy to pester him to play with us. He must have thought we were daft to believe him—but to us he was our cool older cousin who could do no wrong.’

  Luis gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Kara doesn’t talk about him a lot—I think she finds it too hard—but I know she misses him terribly.’

  ‘After his death and then Kara’s parents’ divorce, my mum and her sisters were worried about her dad—they asked me to move in to keep an eye on him. Thankfully we got on really well. But I could see how low he was; if I hadn’t already been turned off marriage, seeing how destroyed he was by the divorce would definitely have convinced me that nothing is worth that heartache. I thought Kara felt the same way about marriage—the few times we talked about relationships over the past few years she had hinted as much. But now she’s happily married to Edwin.’ Pausing, she waited for him to say something, to join in with her amazement over Edwin’s and Kara’s surprise marriage, but when he didn’t she added, ‘Did they send you their Christmas card? I usually just put any I get into a drawer, not wanting to be reminded that it’s that time of year again. But even I felt compelled to display their card on my mantelpiece—it’s so good to see Kara happy. How it happened I’ll never understand—what do you think changed between them?’

  * * *

  Dio! What was he supposed to say? Just a little while ago she had asked him to always be honest with her. But would he be betraying Edwin and Kara by telling her of their wedding secret? Could he trust Alice not to tell anyone else? She was waiting for his answer, her expectant expression turning puzzled and then suspicious. Why was he even hesitating?

  Because Edwin’s and Kara’s trust and closeness, how they are both blossoming as people within their marriage, the power of their togetherness, mocks everything you like to believe about love.

  ‘Their marriage...at first it was not as it seemed.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘My father changed the law of succession—for Edwin to succeed to the throne he had to marry.’

  Alice’s mouth dropped open. ‘You are kidding me.’ Then, her brows slamming together, she demanded, ‘Are you saying Edwin convinced Kara into a sham marriage?’

  ‘Don’t get mad with me. I was totally against the idea at the time. I thought they were both crazy.’

  She shook her head. ‘What? And now you agree with it? Knowing everything Kara has been through?’

  He shrugged. ‘They’re in love—or so they claim. They have both admitted to being in love with one another for years, but after Michael died everything became complicated.’

  Alice made a disbelieving snort. ‘I can’t believe Edwin persuaded her...honestly, what was Kara thinking of?’

  Last month Edwin and Kara had travelled to watch him take part in his penultimate race in Corsica. It had been sickening...and kind of enviable just how in love they had been with each other—constantly touching, sharing looks and intimate smiles when they thought nobody was looking. ‘But if they’re happy now—isn’t that what’s important?’

  ‘I guess,’ she answered with a disgruntled expression.

  ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’

  ‘No! Obviously. Why would I be jealous of something I don’t want?’ Slamming her arms together, she stared at him suspiciously. ‘Why, are you changing your mind about not wanting to marry?’

  He gave a shiver. ‘No.’ But then his gaze caught hold of hers and something unaccountable broke apart inside of him. And without any thought or sense he heard himself say, ‘To have someone close, it must be...’ Coming to an abrupt halt at her appalled expression, he scrambled to change the subject away from himself. ‘So if marriage isn’t on the cards for you, what are your dreams for the future?’

  For long seconds she considered him but then with a sigh she answered, ‘Up to a few months ago I was certain as to what I wanted—to finish my PhD and get a full-time lecturing position—but I’m not sure any more. I just can’t find the motivation to finish my thesis—and that must say something. Sometimes I wonder if I was wrong to start a history degree in the first place.’

  ‘It sounds to me as though you need a break away from writing.’

  Shifting back to rest against the daybed, she answered, ‘Maybe you’re right.’ For a while she looked up towards the night sky and then back to him. ‘What about you—what are your dreams?’

  ‘I’ve just achieved it—to win the global series.’

  ‘You must have others.’

  ‘Not particularly.’

  Alice considered him with a puzzled expression. ‘I had you pegged as someone who always had something else to achieve, some other grand plan. Uber-positive about everything in your life.’

  He shrugged, trying not to give away how much he hated how she was pinpointing all that was wrong in his life right now. He was rudderless. Without an identity. A purpose in life. ‘Positivity is my defence shield.’

  ‘Does it work?’

  He laughed. ‘Most of the time, but with you it seems to fade.’

  She laughed and then, sobering, she said, ‘Okay, I’m going to admit that I don’t know what you mean by that, and whether you’re pointing out a flaw in my personality.’

  She had asked for his honesty. He pulled in a breath, doubt and uncertainty tightening his chest at the wisdom of this conversation. ‘I manage to hide what’s really inside of myself from others...but not with you.’

  Alice grimaced. ‘I’m sorry—I don’t mean to ask so many questions...it just seems right with you.’

  He nodded. He understood what she meant—neither of them was looking for what was happening between them, neither of them wanted this depth of understanding and attraction.

  He edged a little closer to her. His arm against hers, inches separating their heads, which were resting against the pillows. The silver in her eyes glittered. Her cheekbones reddened. Her full lips parted ever so slightly. Dio! But she was beautiful. ‘Just make sure that you don’t hurt me.’

  ‘Me hurt you?’ she asked in a low whisper.

  He moved even closer. ‘Well, you did kiss me.’ He paused, remembering his initial doubts that soon transformed into a wave of physical pleasure and chemistry. He contemplated her lips, their wide, full shape. The night of Edwin’s wedding she had left traces of her lipstick on his mouth. ‘And then you ran away. I was left wondering what I had done wrong.’

  She let out a tiny sigh of disbelief. ‘Trust me, you didn’t do anything wrong.’

  He touched his hand against her jawline. Desire zapped through his body, the urge to kiss her and a whole lot more tingled in every nerve ending. ‘Prove it—kiss me and this time don’t run away.’

  She smiled but quickly realised he was being deadly serious. She hesitated for a moment but then moved towards him, until inches separated them. He could feel her breath on his cheek, the light scent of her perfume. His own anticipation and desire were reflected in the silver pools of her eyes. Her lips found him, tentative and soft. And then everything went crazy. Her mouth opened. He heard her sigh. Her hand was on his neck. Pulling him closer. Lost to the power of the kiss, he went with her when she pulled him down the bed, so that they were both lying flat. She unbuttoned his coat and then his jacket, her hand hot over the cotton of his shirt. A charge went through him to feel her thumb move against his ri
bcage in small, rhythmic movements as though she wanted to caress his soul. His hand wound around the soft, silky length of her hair, loving the warmth of her mouth, the smoothness of her skin. His body buzzed with a hot craving that came from the most elemental part of him.

  She moaned when he shifted his weight onto her. Felt her body buckle beneath him. He deepened their kiss, her hand shifting around to run the length of his spine.

  He wanted to sleep with her. He wanted to know her body, whip her coat and clothes away. He wanted to taste her skin, cup her breasts in his hands, watch her fall to pieces. Would she scream? What would her favourite position be? He pictured her on top, her hair cascading down around her breasts, her hips moving in a slow dance, his back arching to meet her.

  But, this was madness. She didn’t need this complication in her life. He dragged himself away from her addictive mouth and rolled onto his side.

  She looked at him with a dazed expression, her mouth bruised, heat glowing in her cheeks. But then she bolted up to sitting. ‘I... Sorry...that went on longer than I intended,’ she gave him a guilty smile, her eyes fleetingly meeting his before she looked away, ‘but I can definitely confirm that there’s nothing wrong with your kisses.’

  She leapt off the bed. ‘Well...it’s been...lovely. But I guess it’s time that we called it a night.’ With that, she gestured vaguely in the direction of the stairwell that would take them back to the restaurant and bolted away.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SHELTERED IN THE safety of the department store entrance, Alice surveyed the mass of humanity sidestepping one another along the length of Oxford Street. The pandemonium of last-minute Christmas Eve shopping. A chaos that was far removed from her usual Christmas shopping, which was always done online, a week before the big day. She refused to be pressured into buying gifts any time earlier than then, hating the frenzied flurry of consumerism the marketing companies loved to create. In a few simple clicks she always bought a spa day for her mum in a local hotel and a book hamper from her local bookshop for each of her extended families. A few simple clicks and her Christmas obligations were over and done with.