by Liz Fielding
So that was where those exotic good looks came from. ‘No. I...er...’ She started a polite fib, then thought better of it. To conceal her identity she was being forced to fib. No need to do so unnecessarily. ‘Yes, I was surprised. Your name doesn’t match your looks. Not like the Irish guys I’ve met, that is.’
‘I’m a fine example of Australia’s multicultural population,’ he said lightly.
He was a fine example of a male.
Before she could dig herself in any further, she took his hand in a firm shake. ‘Natalie Gerard,’ she said. Natalie seemed a less memorable name than Natalia; Gerard was her father the King’s name. She actually didn’t have a surname—she was simply known as Natalia, Princess of Montovia.
‘By the sound of your accent, you’re English,’ he said.
‘Er...yes,’ she said.
She didn’t like to lie. But she’d promised her family not to blow her cover to anyone, in case of leaks to the media. Princess Heartbreaker in disguise at a wedding would be the kind of thing they liked to pounce on. So lie she must—though she’d rather think of it as tactical evasion.
Thank heaven for the English-born tutor married to a Montovian woman who had taught her perfectly accented English from the time she’d started to speak her first words. She also spoke impeccable German, French and Italian, with passable Spanish. So for today she would be English.
‘Do you live here?’ Finn asked.
She shook her head. ‘Sadly I’m just visiting on vacation. I wish it were longer. Sydney is fabulous.’
‘Spring is a good time to visit,’ he said.
‘Yes, it is,’ she said. ‘I’m loving it here.’
Just plain Natalie, a tourist, had spent the last three days riding the ferries, visiting the beaches, taking in a concert at the Opera House. She’d revelled in her freedom and anonymity—even though her two bodyguards were always at a discreet distance. As they were here now, masquerading as waiters.
Perhaps Finn had snagged the champagne from one of them. She was so used to the constant presence of household staff and bodyguards she scarcely noticed their presence.
‘Where do you live in England?’ Finn asked.
‘London,’ she said.
The royal family had a house in Mayfair, where she’d lived for a while when she was studying. Until the paparazzi had snapped her staggering out of a nightclub after one too many cocktails and she’d been recalled in disgrace to the palace before she’d been able to finish her degree in architecture.
‘Whereabouts in London?’ he said. ‘I visit there quite often.’
No need to get too specific... Natalia chose to answer the second part of his question instead. ‘What takes you to London?’
‘My import/export business,’ he said.
Which could, she thought, mean anything.
‘What do you do?’ he said.
Nothing she could share with him. Being Princess of Montovia was pretty much a full-time role. She wasn’t allowed to be employed—rather had thrown herself into charity work.
Her main occupation was with the charity she’d started, which auctioned worn-once designer clothes and accessories donated by her and others in her circle to benefit her particular interest—the promotion of education for girls wherever they lived in the world.
Her online fashion parades and auctions had taken off way beyond anything she’d anticipated. Donations of fashion items now came from wealthy aristocrats and celebrities from all over Europe. Bids came from all around the world. The administration was undertaken by volunteers, so profits went straight to where they were needed. She was proud of what she had achieved through her own initiative. But that had nothing to do with Natalie Gerard.
The fact was, she’d been destined for a strategic marriage rather than a career. Especially after the tragic accident nearly three years ago that had robbed Montovia of her older brother Carl and his family, and pushed her up to second in line to the throne after Tristan, now Crown Prince.
Her life had changed radically after the tragedy, with her parents now obsessed with maintaining the succession to the throne. She’d had to work within their restrictions, not wanting to add to their intense grief in mourning their son and two-year-old grandson, still reeling from her own grief, not to mention the outpouring of grief throughout the country.
But she was beginning to weary of doing everything by the royal rules. She wanted her own life.
She couldn’t share any of that with Finn. Instead she aimed for impartial chit-chat. ‘I work in fashion,’ she said.
That wasn’t too much of a stretch of the truth. Organising her high-end fashion auctions was a job, if not a paid one.
‘Retail or wholesale?’
‘Retail.’
Her role often required several changes of formal clothing a day. That involved a lot of shopping in the fashion capitals of Europe. In fact, that had kicked off her idea for the auctions—she and other people in the public eye were expected by fashion-watchers to appear at functions in a different outfit each time. That meant expensive garments were often only worn once or twice.
‘You fit the part.’
His eyes lit with admiration as he looked at her simple sheath dress in a deep rose-pink overlaid with lace. It wasn’t silk, but it was a very good knock-off of a French designer whose couture originals took up considerable hanging space in her apartment-sized humidity-controlled closet back at the palace before they were moved on to auction.
‘Thank you,’ she said, inordinately pleased at the compliment. ‘What do you import and export?’ she asked, deflecting his attention from her.
‘High-end foods and liquor,’ he said. ‘It takes me all around the world.’
She nodded. ‘Hence your work with Party Queens?’
‘Exactly,’ he said.
She finished her champagne at the same time he did, then placed her glass on the wide veranda railing. Someone would be along to pick it up.
But Finn reached for it. ‘I’ll put that glass somewhere safer,’ he said.
Mistake, she thought as he took the glasses and placed them on a table just inside the doorway. Regular girl Natalie would not be used to household staff picking up after her.
Finn was back within seconds. ‘Tell me, Natalie, are you here with a partner?’
He glanced at the bare fingers of her left hand—without realising he did so, she thought. She did the same to him. No rings there either.
‘No partner,’ she said.
‘Good,’ he said, with a decisiveness that thrilled her.
‘Either here at the wedding or in my life.’
‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘Single. Never married.’
Her spine tingled at this less than subtle trumpeting of his single status. She was single and available too. For today.
Maybe for tonight.
‘Likewise,’ she said.
This handsome, handsome man must be thirtyish. How had such a catch evaded matrimony?
‘D’you think they’ve put us at the singles table for the meal?’ he asked.
‘I have no idea,’ she said. ‘I... I hope so.’
‘If they haven’t I’ll switch every place card in the room to make sure we’re seated together.’
She laughed. ‘Seriously?’
‘Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I want to sit with the most beautiful woman at the wedding?’
She laughed again. ‘You flatter me.’
He was suddenly very serious. ‘There’s no flattery. I noticed you as soon as you walked across the grass to take your seat. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.’
She could act coy, not admit that she’d noticed him too, flirt a little, play hard to get... But she’d never met a man like him. Never felt that instant tug of attraction. And time was in very short supply.
‘I
noticed you too,’ she said simply.
For a long moment she looked up into his eyes—up close a surprising sea-green—and he looked down into hers. His gaze was serious, intent, totally focused on her. The air between them shimmered with possibility. Her heart set up a furious beating. She felt giddy with the awareness that she could be on the edge of something momentous, something life-changing. He frowned as if puzzled. Did he feel it too?
‘Natalie, I—’
But before he could say any more Gemma came up the steps, Tristan hovering solicitously behind her. Her sister-in-law smiled politely, as if Natalia were just another guest, although her eyes gleamed with the knowledge of their shared secret. Tristan’s nod gave his sister a subtle warning. Be careful. As if she needed it. She was only too aware of her duty.
Duty. Duty. Duty. It had governed her life from the moment she was born. Duty to her family, to the Crown, to her country. What about her duty to herself? Her needs, her wants, her happiness? She was twenty-seven years old and she’d toed the line for too long. If she wanted to flirt with the most gorgeous man she had met in a long time—perhaps ever—she darn well would, and duty be damned.
She took a step closer to Finn. Smiled up at him as Tristan went past. The rigid set of her brother’s shoulders was the only sign that he had noticed her provocative gesture. But Finn mistook her smile for amusement.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘It isn’t every day you go to a wedding where the groomsman is a prince and the bridesmaid a princess and everyone is pretending they’re regular folk like you or me. That’s despite the security detail both out on the road and down on the water to keep the media scrum at bay.’
‘Bizarre, isn’t it?’ she said lightly.
In fact, it was rare that she went to a wedding where the bride and groom weren’t royalty or high-ranking aristocracy. This wedding between people without rank was somewhat of a novelty.
‘Bizarre, but kinda fun,’ Finn said. ‘When else would our paths cross so closely with royalty? Even if the Prince is from some obscure kingdom no one has ever heard of.’
Obscure? Natalia was about to huff in defence of her country. Montovia might be small, in both land mass and population, but it was wealthy, influential and punched above its weight on matters of state. But for today she was just plain Natalie—not Princess Natalia. And she wanted to enjoy the company of this very appealing Aussie guy without getting into any kind of debate that might give the game away.
‘A prince is a prince, I guess, wherever he hails from,’ she said.
‘And a princess always adds a certain glamour to an occasion,’ Finn said drily.
‘Indeed,’ she said.
A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. If only he knew.
‘Talking of fun...let’s go inside and swap those place cards if we need to,’ she said.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said.
Startled, she almost corrected him. Ma’am was a term of address reserved for her mother, the Queen, not her. But of course he was only using the word generically. She really had to stay on the alert if she were to successfully keep up the act.
She went to tuck her hand into his arm but decided against it. If she touched him—even the slightest touch—she wasn’t sure how she’d react. She’d only known Finn O’Neill for a matter of minutes but she already knew she wanted him.
He could be the one.
Copyright © 2019 by Kandy Shepherd
ISBN-13: 9781488043857
A Secret, a Safari, a Second Chance
First North American publication 2019
Copyright © 2019 by Liz Fielding
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