‘So you’re driven.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but I’m the one who makes the decisions on who’s doing the driving.’ He looked at her, his blue eyes thoughtful. ‘You’re just as driven as I am—but is being queen what you’d choose?’
‘That’s irrelevant,’ she said. ‘I always knew I’d be the queen some day because I’m the oldest child. If my father had lived, I would’ve taken over from him instead of from my grandfather.’ Though she would’ve had more of a breathing space before the coronation. Right now, the end of the year felt very close indeed. Her last summer of freedom wasn’t stretching out before her; it was going to vanish in the blink of an eye.
‘If you weren’t a princess—if you could do anything in the world—what would you do?’ he asked.
‘I don’t honestly know,’ she said. Because she deliberately hadn’t let herself think about it. What was the point of wondering, when your path in life was already mapped out for you?
‘I guess you never had the freedom to choose,’ he said softly.
‘No.’ It hadn’t mattered before, and she couldn’t let it matter now. ‘You didn’t exactly have much freedom of choice, either,’ she pointed out.
‘True, but I don’t think I missed out—maybe I missed out on having a social life at university, but since Saoirse turned eighteen I’ve been able to pretty much please myself with what I do and where I go. I know she won’t do anything stupid like have a party and invite the kind of people who’d trash the flat.’ He shrugged. ‘I guess we both had to grow up fast.’
Vittoria rather thought he meant the two of them, rather than himself and his sister. ‘It must’ve been tough, though, being a parent figure when you were so young yourself.’
‘I had people I could ask for advice if I needed it. Patty, my old photography tutor, was so kind,’ he said. ‘But I guess I was lucky. Saoirse was in with a good crowd. It could’ve been much tougher.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘My sister will always have a home with me, whenever she needs it. Just as I’m guessing you’d always find space for Izzy.’
‘Yes. Of course I would.’
‘But it’s kind of put me off the idea of being a parent in the future. Been there, done that—I’ll never regret putting her first, ever, but...’ He blew out a breath. ‘In the early days, every girlfriend I had seemed to end up resenting her. Probably my fault for picking the wrong kind of girl; they wanted to go to parties, and they got fed up when I couldn’t find a babysitter.’
‘She doesn’t need a babysitter now.’
‘No—but my career takes me away a lot. I have to go where my subject is. I can’t expect them to come to me.’
‘Why not?’
He smiled. ‘Well, you were my last subject. Where would you say was the most appropriate place for the shoot—some random location in London, or the palace?’
‘Point taken. But surely your girlfriends don’t mind you travelling? Surely they like the chance to go with you?’
‘It’s not the travelling. It’s the fact that my career comes first. If they came with me, I wouldn’t be able to go and do touristy stuff with them because I’d be going there to work, not for a holiday. And I’m tired of being asked to choose,’ he said. ‘My family or my girlfriend; my career or my girlfriend.’ He shrugged. ‘Right now, I’m happily single—and I plan to stay that way. I want the freedom to follow my dream, to be the best photographer I can be. And if that means giving up on relationships, that’s fine by me.’
He’d made his position very, very clear; he was single, and planning to stay that way.
Not that it was any of her business. And not that she was in a position to start a relationship with someone her family would definitely disapprove of. She knew her grandfather had liked Liam—but that was purely as an artist and a businessman. A potential partner for his eldest granddaughter was a very different matter. Plus, she’d learned from Rufus that having a non-royal background was the biggest hurdle to any relationship with a commoner. If anyone could overcome it, she thought Liam might be that man; from what she’d seen of him, he was bright, he paid attention to the small things, and he understood the struggle of responsibility. But he’d just made it clear he wasn’t interested in a relationship.
This Roman Holiday thing was turning out to be a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it had given her a breathing space she’d desperately needed; on the other, it had given her space to dream of things that just weren’t going to be possible in her real life. Right now, she actually dreaded going back. She didn’t want to follow all the old rules any more. She wanted to make new rules, ones that might move life at the palace onto a more modern footing. But was she strong enough to do that on her own?
She concentrated on looking for pretty shells and walking at the edge of the sea.
Today was the last day.
Tomorrow she’d be going back to the real world. To the airport. To San Rocello. She wouldn’t be Vicky the tourist, walking barefoot on a beach, any more; she’d be Princess Vittoria, wearing the perfect business suit and high heels. And the weight that had lightened on her first day here settled right back in the centre of her shoulders.
She didn’t say much for the rest of the afternoon; and Liam, clearly realising that she didn’t want to talk, didn’t push her. She managed to make small talk during dinner at a local foodie pub, chatting about how delicious the locally made goat’s cheese was, and the seafood risotto. Things that didn’t really matter.
And then they were back at the cottage, where Giorgio pleaded a headache and a need for an early night.
Was that what she should do? Borrow a book from the shelves in the living room and have an early night, too?
But Liam said quietly, ‘It’s your last night. It’s a nice evening; come and sit in the garden with a glass of wine.’
The wine was crisp, dry and perfectly chilled. Liam had put cushions on two wrought-iron chairs, and they sat side by side, looking up at the stars.
‘Penny for them?’ he asked.
She had intended to be polite and not admit to what was really going on in her head, but something in his eyes made her tell the truth. ‘I’ve enjoyed my time here. It’s really helped recharge me. Izzy’s right about the palace making me feel stifled. But I know I have to go back to San Rocello.’ And do her duty. Which she’d already shirked for four whole days.
Either she’d spoken aloud or he was seriously good at working out what people were thinking, because he asked, ‘Do you really have to get married to this guy your family’s chosen for you?’
‘José?’ She sighed. ‘Probably. Or someone like him.’
‘I understand that you have to marry someone from a royal background,’ he said, ‘but can’t you choose him yourself?’
‘Sometimes I wonder—’ She stopped and screwed up her nose. ‘Forget I said that.’
He looked at her. ‘Sometimes it helps to think out loud and bounce ideas off people.’
If she talked to anyone about this, it should be Izzy. But she hadn’t wanted to burden her sister, especially so close to Izzy’s Finals.
‘If it helps,’ he said, ‘I promise it won’t go any further than me.’
She thought about it. Given how much time Izzy had spent at his flat over the last three years, he would know a lot about her sister’s life. If he’d wanted to sell a story to the press, he’d had plenty of opportunities, and he definitely had the contacts. But he’d done nothing of the kind.
She could trust him.
If she chose.
‘I feel disloyal even thinking this,’ she said. ‘I know what my family expects from me. I’m going to be queen. I need to marry, produce an heir and a spare, and bring up those children so they’ll be able to do their own duty well, when it’s their time. And of course I’ll do my duty, just as my father would’ve done if he’d still been alive—just as my grandf
ather has done.’
‘But would it be different if your dad hadn’t died?’ he asked. ‘Obviously you’d still eventually be queen, but would you have been able to choose your own husband?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I think maybe my dad would’ve wanted me to find someone I loved—someone who loved me.’
‘So who’s putting the pressure on you to marry someone you don’t love? Your grandfather?’
She shook her head. ‘My mum and my grandmother. Nonna’s very traditional—and I think when my dad died my mum found it hard to cope. She’s pretty much followed my grandmother’s lead in everything since then, wrapping me up in cotton wool and...’ She shook her head. ‘I love my mother. But sometimes I wish she’d lighten up. I wish she’d find another partner—not because it would take the pressure off me, but because I worry that she’s lonely.’
Liam took her hand and squeezed it. ‘As lonely as you are?’
‘If so much as a single word of this gets back to Izzy, you’re toast,’ she warned, scowling at him.
‘It won’t,’ he reassured her. ‘Not because I’m scared of you, but because I know how you feel. I try not to let Saoirse know if I’m out of sorts about something, too.’
‘Thank you.’ She sighed. ‘Being at the palace can be a bit isolating. I’ve got my mum, and my grandparents, and that’s it. My local friends have all moved away, my uni friends are scattered across the globe, and—oh, this is turning into such a pity party.’ She grimaced. ‘And that’s not who I am.’
‘Of course it isn’t. You’re bright, you’re independent, and you’re about to shoulder a really heavy responsibility. I mean, don’t most monarchs accede the throne when they’re fifty or so?’ he asked.
‘I guess.’
‘It’s a lot of pressure. And I agree with you: it’s not a good idea to get married to someone you don’t love and who doesn’t love you. You’re going to have enough on your plate. Talk to your grandfather. Tell him you need more time to find the right partner. Tell them you’d like to choose your own husband. You’re going to be queen, so surely you get to make some of the rules?’
‘And if they all say no?’
‘Negotiate,’ he said. ‘To do a job well, you need to be happy in that job. And you’re not going to be happy shackled to someone who doesn’t understand you. As the queen, you need a consort you can rely on. Someone you can talk to. Someone with a bit of common sense. Someone who understands your heart.’
She inclined her head. ‘Sadly, consorts don’t quite come to order.’ She looked up at the stars in the sky. ‘Do you ever wonder if there’s more?’
‘To the universe? Maybe. You?’
‘I...’ She pushed the longing back down. ‘No.’
‘Or did you mean more than life in a goldfish bowl?’ he asked gently.
How could he see through her like that? Was her public mask slipping? Would other people see it, too? Or was it because Liam had a connection with her that he could tell what was going on in her head?
‘What you asked me among the bluebells this morning—if I could do anything I wanted, what would it be? I’ve been thinking about it all day and I still don’t have an answer.’
He didn’t push her.
And finally, she admitted, ‘Sometimes I’m not sure who I am, deep down.’
‘When I take a portrait,’ he said, ‘it shows me who someone is. I get them to talk to me. Tell me their hopes, their dreams. Sometimes it’s obvious they’re not telling me what they really feel, so I ask questions from completely left field. Stupid things, like those internet quizzes Saoirse and Izzy love about what sort of cookie you are. Or I ask them to read something, or tell me a joke—and then, once they open up to me, I can take a portrait of who they are.’
She remembered her own photo shoot with him. ‘You asked me to read you my favourite poem.’
He inclined his head. ‘Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130. And that told me a lot about you. Vittoria, I know you have a duty, but it doesn’t make sense to marry someone you don’t love.’
She had no choice. She had to marry someone who understood protocol and the demands of a royal lifestyle. Love on its own wasn’t enough, or Rufus wouldn’t have backed away from her.
Liam took his phone from his pocket and tapped into a website.
‘These are the photographs I took for your grandfather. Your official portrait,’ he said. ‘Look at her from the outside. Pretend this is a stranger, not you. Can you see what I see? A woman who’s proud of the traditions she comes from. A princess. Someone cool, calm and collected. Reliable in a crisis. Prepared to do the best for her people.’
Where was he going with this?
‘Unofficially...’ He showed her the photographs he’d taken when she hadn’t even been aware of him using his phone: of her on the beach, of her making the gnocchi. When she’d been relaxed. When she’d felt happy.
‘And this.’ The photographs they’d taken in the bluebell wood that morning, when she’d been laughing and smiling and intrigued by him. When she’d done the poses she’d thought at the time were a bit ridiculous, but had gone along with them because she could see he was having fun, and she’d enjoyed it too.
‘Maybe I’m presuming things, but as a photographer I’m used to looking past the trappings and seeing who someone really is. I think these photographs show the real you,’ he said, ‘the one that people don’t see. A woman who’s usually reserved, but here you’re the woman behind the tiara. Laughing. Open. Beautiful. Izzy says you’re like sunshine when you smile. And you are.’
She’d never heard her little sister say that about her, and it brought a lump to her throat.
And then he flicked over to the photograph he’d taken of her in the library.
‘This is you,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘The you I saw. The you I kissed on the beach. The you I wanted to kiss among the bluebells this morning, when you were pretending to be me and bossing me about.’ He paused. ‘The you I want to kiss now, even though I know it’s unfair of me because you have to go back to San Rocello and you have duties to fulfil. The you I want to kiss now, even though I’m not looking for a relationship—and even if I was, I know there isn’t a snowflake’s chance in hell of things working out between us.’
She knew he was right.
She could be sensible Princess Vittoria, agree with him there wasn’t a hope for them, and walk away.
Or she could be herself. The woman who wanted him to kiss her. Who wanted to kiss him back. Who wanted more.
Just for tonight...
She’d never felt such a strong compulsion before. Longing. It wasn’t just about sex—though there was definitely desire there—it was about connection.
Tentatively, she stretched out a hand and stroked his cheek.
He slid his hand over hers, then turned his head so he could drop a kiss into her palm. Then he gently drew her hand away and kissed her in the garden under the stars, his mouth warm and sweet and enticing.
This time, they had birdsong rather than the swish of the waves for background noise.
This time, there wasn’t anyone to interrupt them with an ill-timed shout.
It was just the two of them, the stars and the nightingales. It felt as if rainbows were filling her head, and she’d never wanted anyone as much as she’d wanted this man.
She broke the kiss. ‘Liam.’
He sighed. ‘Vittoria. I’m sorry. I know I overstepped the line.’
‘No. I wanted you to kiss me.’ She took a deep breath, thinking about the moment in the bluebell wood when she’d had that vision of him naked and in her bed. When desire had been so strong, it had stopped up her words. ‘I want more than kissing. I want you.’
His cornflower-blue eyes were almost indigo. ‘I want you, too. But we can’t do this. It’s going to hurt too many people.’
&
nbsp; She shook her head. ‘There’s nobody to hurt. I’m single. You are, too.’
‘But your family’s arranging a marriage.’
To someone she didn’t love. Someone who didn’t make her pulse beat a tattoo, the way it was beating right now. And maybe Liam had given her enough to think about tonight. Maybe she didn’t have to marry someone so fast. Maybe she could take her time and choose her consort wisely.
She took a deep breath. ‘I’ll do my duty, when the time comes. But this is now. Time for me. My Roman Holiday, as Izzy calls it. You, me, no strings.’ A fling she knew a queen-to-be couldn’t have; but Liam had said earlier that you could break the rules, as long as you knew why.
She knew why she wanted to break the rules tonight.
She wanted him.
Wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone in her life.
He brushed his mouth against hers. ‘Just so you know, I don’t sleep around.’
‘Neither do I.’ She took another deep breath. ‘But I can’t get you out of my head, Liam. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that moment in the library. I thought you were going to kiss me, then.’
‘I almost did,’ he admitted.
‘I wish you had.’
He shook his head. ‘I never mix work and my personal life. And that photo shoot was work.’
‘That last picture in the library wasn’t,’ she said. ‘You didn’t take that for my grandfather, or even for Izzy, or she would’ve shown me.’
‘No. I admit, I took it for me. Because you’re captivating,’ he said. ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, but it’s not just the way you look. It’s you. The way you make me feel. I can’t stop thinking about you, either. But we don’t have a future. I have my career to think of and you have your duty. I’d never fit into your world, and you can’t fit into mine. I wouldn’t ask you to choose between me and your duty because it wouldn’t be fair.’
‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘And I wish things were different.’
‘So do I. But they’re not. We need to be sensible.’
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