Royals: Chosen By The Prince: The Prince's Waitress Wife / Becoming the Prince's Wife / To Dance with a Prince

Observing his lack of response, she sighed. ‘What’s going on in your head? I don’t understand you!’

‘I don’t require you to understand me,’ Casper said in a cool tone. ‘I just require you to play the part you auditioned for. From now on, you’ll just do as you’re told. You’ll smile when I tell you to smile and you’ll walk where I tell you to walk. In return, you’ll have more money than you know how to spend, and a lifestyle that most of the world will envy.’

She opened her mouth and closed it again, her face a mask of indecision. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’ She stooped and started picking up pieces of broken china, as if she needed to do something with her hands. ‘I thought I’d made up my mind, but now I’m not sure. How can I accept your proposal when you scare me? You use three words, I use thirty. I’ve never met anyone so emotionally detached. I—I’m just not comfortable with you.’ She put the china carefully on the table.

‘Comfortable?’

She rubbed her fingers over her forehead, as if her brain was aching and she wanted to soothe it. ‘We’ll hardly be great parents if I’m bracing myself for conflict every time you enter a room. And then there’s the fact that I don’t exactly fit the profile of perfect princess.’

‘The only thing that matters is that the world thinks you’re carrying my child. As far as the people of Santallia are concerned, that makes you the perfect princess.’

‘But not your perfect princess. You don’t seem to care who you marry. Did you love her very much?’ She blurted out the question as though she couldn’t stop herself, and then gave an apologetic sigh. ‘I’m sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t. But you lost your fiancée, Antonia, and it’s stupid to pretend that I don’t know about it, because everyone knew—’

No one knew.

‘Enough!’ Stunned that she would dare tread on such dangerous territory, Casper sent her a warning glance, and in that single unsettling moment he had the feeling that she was looking deep inside him.

‘I am sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘Because I certainly don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t see how we’re going to have any sort of marriage when you won’t let another human being get close. You create this barrier around you. Frankly, how I ever felt relaxed enough with you to have sex, I have no idea. At the moment my insides feel as though I swallowed a knotted rope.’ But even as she said the words the tension in the air crackled and snapped, and he saw her chest rise and fall as her breathing quickened.

The sexual chemistry was more powerful than both of them, and Casper wasn’t even aware that he’d moved until his hands slid into her hair and he felt her lips parting in response to the explicit demands of his mouth.

Enforced abstinence and sexual denial had simply increased the feverish craving, and he hauled her hard against him, driven by a sensual urgency previously unknown to him.

Her lips were soft and sweet, and the scent and taste of her closed over him, drowning his senses until every rational thought was blown from his brain by a powerful rush of erotic pleasure.

She moaned with desperation, her arms winding round his neck, her body trembling against his as she arched in sensual invitation, her abandoned response a blatant invitation to further intimacy.

In the grip of an almost agonising arousal, Casper closed possessive hands over her hips and lifted her onto the kitchen table. She was pliant and shivering against him, the sensuous movements of her body shamelessly urging him on.

And then the gentle hiss of water boiling on the Aga penetrated the red fog in his mind and he froze, his seeking hands suddenly still as he realised what he was doing.

And where he was doing it.

Another time, another table.

Deploring the lack of control that gripped him whenever he was with this woman, he dragged his mouth from hers with a huge effort of will, and stared down into her dazed, shocked eyes. Her mouth was damp and swollen from his kiss, and she was shaking with the same wild excitement that was driving him.

His usual self-restraint severely challenged by her addictive sexuality, Casper released his grip on her hips and stepped backwards.

‘Hopefully that should have satisfied any worries you might have about whether or not you’ll be able to relax with me when the time comes.’

She slid off the table, her fingers fastened tightly round the edge for support. ‘Your Highness.’ Her voice was smoky with passion. ‘Casper—’

‘We’re short on time.’ Ruthlessly withdrawing from the softness he saw in her eyes, he glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve flown in a team of people to help you prepare.’

‘Prepare for what?’ Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and it was obvious that she wasn’t really listening to what he was saying—that her body was still struggling with the electricitythat sparked between them.

‘The wedding. We fly to Santallia tonight. We’re getting married tomorrow.’ He paused, allowing time for his words to sink in. ‘And that’s not a proposal, Holly. It’s an order.’

CHAPTER FIVE (#ue79b7063-0282-5adc-b83f-ab8a83eee903)

THE roar of the crowd reached deafening proportions, and the long avenue leading from the cathedral to the palace was a sea of smiling faces and waving flags.

‘I can’t believe the number of people,’ Holly said faintly as she settled herself in the golden carriage. The rings on the third finger of her left hand felt heavy and unfamiliar, and she glanced down in disbelief. ‘And I can’t believe we’re married. You certainly don’t hang around, do you? You could have given me a little more warning.’

‘Why?’

Why? Only Casper could ask that question, she thought wryly. Fiddling nervously with the enormous diamond ring, she wondered whether there was something wrong with her. Here she was, living a life straight out of the pages of a child’s fairy tale, and she would have swapped the lot for some kind words from the man next to her.

Her life was moving ahead too fast for comfort.

Having spent the previous afternoon with a top dress designer who had apparently cleared her schedule to accommodate the prince’s request to dress his bride, she’d been transferred by helicopter to the royal flight and then arrived in the Mediterranean principality of Santallia as the sun was setting.

‘I loved The Dowager Cottage, by the way.’

‘It was built for my great-great grandmother so that she could escape occasionally from the formality of life in the palace. I’m pleased you were comfortable.’

Physically, yes, but mentally…

Unable to sleep, Holly had spent most of the night sitting on the balcony that looked over the sea, thinking about what was to come.

Thinking about Casper.

Hoping she was doing the right thing.

Exhausted from thinking and worrying, she’d eventually sprawled on the bed, only to be woken by an army of dress designers, hairdressers and make-up artists prepared to turn her from gauche waitress into princess. And then she’d been driven through this same cheering crowd to the cathedral that dominated the main square of Santallia Town.

She remembered very little of the actual service—very little except the memory of Casper standing powerful and confident by her side as they exchanged vows. And at that moment she’d been filled with a conviction that she was doing the right thing.

She was giving her baby a father. A stability that she’d never had. Roots and a family.

How could that be a mistake?

As the carriage began to move forward down the tree-lined avenue, she glanced at the prince, only to find him studying her intently.

Startlingly handsome in his military uniform, Casper lifted her hand to his lips in an old-fashioned gesture that was greeted with cheers of approval from the crowd. ‘The dress is a great improvement on ripped jeans,’ he drawled, and she glanced down at herself, fingering the embroidered silk with reverential fingers.

‘It’s impressive what a top designer can do when required, although I was terrified of tripping over on those steps.’ She couldn’t take her eyes from the cheering crowd. Everywhere she looked there were smiling faces and waving flags. ‘They really love you.’

‘They’re here to see you, not me,’ he said dryly, but she remembered what she’d read about him on the Internet—about his devotion to his country—and knew it wasn’t true.

Although he’d never expected to rule, Prince Casper had stepped into the role, burying his own personal grief in order to bring stability to a country in turmoil.

And they loved him for it.

‘Do you ever wish you weren’t the prince?’ The question left her lips before she could stop it and he gave a faint smile.

‘You have a real gift for voicing questions that other people keep as thoughts.’ He relaxed in the seat, undaunted by the crowds of well-wishers. ‘And the answer is no, I don’t wish it. I love my country.’