Royals: Chosen By The Prince: The Prince's Waitress Wife / Becoming the Prince's Wife / To Dance with a Prince. Rebecca Winters
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.’
He loved his country so much that he’d marry a woman he didn’t love because the people expected it.
Holly glanced at the sun-baked pavements and then at the perfect blue sky. ‘It’s beautiful here,’ she agreed. ‘When I looked out of the window this morning, the first thing I saw was the sea. It felt like being on holiday.’
‘You looked very pale during the service.’ His eyes lingered on her face. ‘You were on your feet for a long time. I was worried that you might keel over.’
‘And presumably a prostrate bride wouldn’t have done anything for your public image,’ she said lightly. ‘I was fine.’
‘I’m reliably informed that the early weeks of pregnancy are often the most exhausting.’
He’d talked to someone about her pregnancy? Her heart lurched, and it suddenly occurred to her just how little she knew about his life here. Had he been talking to a woman? She was aware that his name had been linked with a number of European beauties. Was he…?
‘No,’ he drawled. ‘I wasn’t.’
Her eyes widened. ‘I didn’t say anything—’
‘But you were thinking it,’ he said dryly. ‘And the answer is no, my conversation wasn’t with a lover. It was with a doctor.’
‘Oh.’ She blushed scarlet, mortified that her thoughts had been so transparent, but filled with unimaginable relief that he hadn’t asked another woman. ‘When did you speak to a doctor?’
‘While you were at Foxcourt Manor, I interviewed a handful of the top European obstetricians. It’s important that you feel comfortable with your doctor. After all, you’re not good with detached and cold, are you?’ He gave a faint smile as he alluded to their previous conversation, and Holly was so touched that for a moment she forgot the presence of the cheering, waving crowd.
‘You did that for me?’
‘I don’t want you upset.’
‘That was incredibly thoughtful.’ She wanted to ask whether he’d really done it for her or the baby, but decided that it didn’t matter. The fact that he’d noticed that much about her personality was encouraging.
‘You’re stunning,’ he murmured, his gaze lingering on her glossy mouth and dropping to the demure neckline of her dress. ‘The perfect bride. And you’ve coped with the crowd really well. I’m proud of you.’
‘Really?’ Deciding not to mention the fact that she found him far more intimidating than any crowd, Holly relaxed for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She felt drugged by happiness and weak with relief at the change in him.
He was unusually attentive and much more approachable.
Perhaps, she mused silently, he’d finally deduced that the baby must be his.
What other explanation was there for his sudden change of attitude?
‘And now you need to fulfil your first duty as royal princess.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Smile and wave at the crowd. They’re expecting it.’
Finding it hard to believe that anyone would care whether she waved at them or not, Holly tentatively raised her hand, and the immediate roar of approval from the crowd made her blink in amazement. ‘But I’m just someone ordinary,’ she muttered, and the prince’s eyes gleamed with wry amusement.
‘That’s why they love you. You’re living proof that fairytale endings can happen to ordinary people.’
The last of her insecurities faded and Holly gave a bubble of laughter, her mood lifting still further as she saw the smiles of genuine delight on the faces of the people pressing against the barriers.
Flanked by mounted guards, the carriage moved slowly down the tree-lined avenue, and ahead of her she was surprised to see Emilio’s bulky frame.
‘But you sent Emilio home.’ Puzzled, she glanced at the prince. ‘He came to say goodbye to me yesterday, and told me that you’d been brilliant.’
‘He insisted on returning this morning.’ Casper gave a faint smile. ‘On such a huge public occasion he refused to entrust your security to anyone else.’
‘Oh, that’s so kind.’ Incredibly touched, Holly gave Emilio a wave. ‘There do seem to be millions of people. What’s this street like on a normal day?’
Casper settled back against the seat. ‘The road leads directly to the palace. It’s a favourite tourist route. Turn to the right at the bottom, and you reach the sea.’
Holly was still smiling at the crowd when she saw a toddler stumble and fall to the ground, his little body trapped against the metal barriers by the sheer pressure of the crowd. ‘Oh no! Stop the coach!’ Before Casper could respond, Holly opened the door of the carriage, hitched her white silk dress up round her middle and jumped down into the road.
Oblivious to the havoc she was creating in the security operation, she hurried across to the bawling toddler and the panicking mum. ‘Is he all right? Oh my goodness—can everyone move back a bit, please?’ Raising her voice and gesturing at the crowd, she breathed a sigh of relief as everyone shifted slightly and she saw the mother safely lift the sobbing child. ‘Phew. It’s a bit crowded, isn’t it? Is he all right? There—don’t cry, sweetheart. Have you got a smile for me?’ She reached out to the child who immediately stopped crying and stared at her in wonder.
‘It’s your tiara, Your Royal Highness, it’s all sparkly, and he loves everything sparkly.’ The woman flushed scarlet. ‘We all wanted to get a good view of you, madam.’
Holly noticed a trickle of blood on the child’s forehead. ‘He’s cut his head on the barrier. Does someone have a plaster?’
‘Holly.’
Hearing