Crown Prince's Chosen Bride (9 page)

‘My family is the royal family of Montovia. My parents are the king and queen.'

CHAPTER NINE

G
EMMA
FELT
AS
if all the breath had been knocked out of her by a blow to the chest. She stared at him in total disbelief. ‘You're kidding me, right?'

‘I'm afraid I am not. King Gerard and Queen Truda of Montovia are my parents.'

‘And...and you?'

‘I am the crown prince—heir to the throne.'

Gemma felt suddenly light-headed and had to take in a few short, shallow breaths to steady herself. Strangely, she didn't doubt him. Those blue eyes burned with sincerity and a desperate appeal for her to believe him.

‘A...a prince? A real-life prince? You?'

That little hint of a bow she'd thought she'd detected previously now manifested itself in a full-on bow to her. A formal bow—from a prince who wore swim shorts and had bare feet covered in sand.

‘And...and your family business is—?'

‘Ruling the country...as we have done for centuries.'

It fitted. Beyond all belief, it fitted. All the little discrepancies in what he'd said fell into place.

‘So...what is a prince doing with a party planner?' Hurt shafted her that she'd been so willingly made a fool of. ‘Slumming it?'

Despite all her resolutions, she'd slid back into her old ways. Back at the dating starting gates, she'd bolted straight for the same mistake. She'd fallen for a good-looking man who had lied to her from the beginning about who he was. Lied big-time.

She backed away from him on the sand. Stared at him as if he were a total stranger, her hands balled by her sides. Her disappointment made her want to lash out at him in the most primitive way. But she would not be so uncivilised.

Her voice was cold with suppressed fury, and when she spoke it was as if her words had frozen into shards of ice to stab and wound him. ‘You've lied to me from the get go. About who you are—what you are. You lied to get me onto the boat. I don't like liars.'

And she didn't want to hear any more lies.

Frantically, she looked around her. Impenetrable bushland behind her. A long ocean swim to Manly in front of her. And she in a swimsuit and bare feet.

Tristan put out a hand. ‘Gemma. I—'

She raised both hands to ward him off. ‘Don't touch me,' she spat.

Tristan's face contorted with an emotion she couldn't at first identify. Anger? Anger at
her
?

No—anger at himself.

‘Don't say that, Gemma. I...I liked you so much. You did not know who I was. I wanted to get to know you as Tristan, not as Crown Prince Tristan. It was perhaps wrong of me.'

‘Isn't honesty one of the customs of your country? Or are princes exempt from telling the truth?'

His jaw clenched. ‘Of course not. I'm furious at myself for not telling you the truth earlier. I am truly sorry. But I had to see you again—and I saw no way around it. If you had known the truth, would you have relaxed around me?'

She crossed her arms firmly against her chest. But the sincerity of his words was trickling through her hostility, slowly dripping on the fire of her anger.

‘Perhaps not,' said. She would have been freaking out, uncertain of how to behave in front of royalty. As she was now.

‘Please. Forgive me. Believe the sincerity of my motives.'

The appeal in his blue eyes seemed genuine.
Or was she kidding herself?
How she wanted to believe him.

‘So...no more lies? You promise every word you say to me from now on will be the truth?'

‘Yes,' he said.

‘Is there any truth in what you've told me about you? About your country? You really
are
a prince?'

‘I am Tristan, Crown Prince of Montovia.'

‘Prince Tristan...' She slowly breathed out the words, scarcely able to comprehend the truth of it.
Of all the impossible men, she'd had to go and fall for a prince.

‘And everything else you told me?'

‘All true.'

‘Your brother?'

The pain in his eyes let her know that what he'd told her about his brother's death was only too true.

‘Carl was crown prince, heir to the throne, and he trained for it from the day he was born. I was the second in line.'

‘The heir and the spare?' she said.

‘As the “spare,” I had a lot more freedom to live life the way I wanted to. I rebelled against the rules that governed the way we perform our royal duties. Then everything changed.'

‘Because of the accident? You said it's your brother's job you are stepping up to in the “family business,” didn't you? The job of becoming the next king?'

‘That is correct.'

Gemma put her hands to her temples to try and contain the explosion of thoughts. ‘This is surreal. I'm talking to a
prince
, here. A guy who's one day going to be king of a country and have absolute power over the lives of millions people.'

‘Not so many millions—we are a small country.'

She put down her hands so she could face him. ‘But still... You're a prince. One day you'll be a king.'

‘When you put it like that, it sounds surreal to me, too. To be the king was always my brother's role.'

Her thoughts still reeled. ‘You don't just live
near
the castle, do you?'

‘The castle has been home to the royal family for many hundreds of years.'

‘And you probably
own
the town of Montovia—and the chocolate shop with the tea room where you went as a little boy?'

‘Yes,' he said. ‘It has always been so.'

‘What about the chocolate?'

‘Every business in Montovia is, strictly speaking, our business. But businesses are, of course, owned by individuals. They pay taxes for the privilege. The chocolate has been made by the same family for many years.'

‘Was your little nephew a prince, too?'

‘He...little Rudolph...
was
a prince. As son of the crown prince, he was next in line to the throne. He was only two when he died with his mother and father.'

‘Truly...truly a tragedy for your family.'

‘For our country, too. My brother would have been a fine ruler.'

She shook her head, maintained her distance from him. ‘It's a lot to take in. How were you allowed to come to Australia on your own if you're the heir? After what happened to your brother?'

‘I insisted that I be allowed this time on my own before I take up my new duties. Duties that will, once I return, consume my life.'

‘You're a very important person,' she said slowly.

‘In Montovia, yes.'

‘I would have thought you would be surrounded by bodyguards.'

Tristan looked out to sea and pointed to where a small white cruiser was anchored. ‘You might not have noticed, but the
Argus
was discreetly followed by that boat. My two Montovian bodyguards are on it. My parents insisted on me being under their surveillance twenty-four hours a day while I was in a foreign country.'

‘You mean there are two guys there who watch you all the time? Did they see us kissing?' She felt nauseous at the thought of being observed for the entire time—both on the boat and on the beach.

‘Most likely. I am so used to eyes being on me I do not think about it.'

‘You didn't think you could have trusted me with the truth?'

‘I did not know you,' he said simply. ‘Now I do.'

Their lives were unimaginably different. Not just their country and their culture. He was
royalty
, for heaven's sake.

‘I don't have to call you your royal highness, do I?' She couldn't help the edge to her voice.

‘To you I am always Tristan.'

‘And my curtsying skills aren't up to scratch.'

Pain tightened his face. ‘This is why I went incognito. You are already treating me differently now you know I am a prince. Next thing you'll be backing away from me when you leave the room.'

‘Technically we're on a beach, but I get your drift. I'm meant to back away from you across the sand?'

‘Not now. But when—' he crossed himself rapidly ‘—when, God forbid, my father passes and I become king, then—'

‘I'd have to walk backwards from your presence.'

‘Yes. Only in public, of course.'

‘This is...this is kind of incomprehensible.' It was all so unbelievable, and yet she found herself believing it. And no matter how she tried, she could not switch off her attraction to him.

A shadow crossed over his face. ‘I know,' he said. ‘And...and it gets worse.'

‘How can it get worse than having to back away out of the presence of a guy my own age? A guy I've made friends with? Sort of friends—considering I don't generally make pals of people who lie to me.'

‘Only “friends”, Gemma?' he said, his brows lifted above saddened eyes. ‘I think we both know it could be so much more than that.'

Tristan stepped forward to close the gap between them. This time she didn't back away. He traced her face lightly with his fingers, across her cheekbones, down her nose, around her lips. She had the disconcerting feeling he was storing up the sight of her face to remember her.

‘Yes,' she admitted. ‘I...I think I knew that from the get go.'

It was difficult to speak because of the little shivers of pleasure coursing through her at his touch.

‘I did also,' he said. ‘I have never felt this way. It was...
instant
for me. That was why I had to see you again—no matter what I had to do to have you with me.'

‘I told you I could cast spells,' she said with a shaky smile. ‘Seriously, I felt it too. Which is why I resisted you. Whether you're a prince or just a regular guy, I don't trust the “instant” thing.'

‘The
coup de foudre
?
I did not believe it could happen either—certainly not to me.'

She frowned. ‘I'm not sure what you mean?'

‘The bolt of lightning. The instant attraction out of nowhere. I have had girlfriends, of course, but never before have I felt this...this intensity so quickly.'

She
had
felt it before—which was why she distrusted it. Why did it feel so different this time?

It was him.
Tristan
. He was quite unlike anyone she had ever met.

She braced her feet in the sand. ‘So how does it get worse?'

‘First I must apologise, Gemma, for luring you onto the boat.'

‘Apologise? There's no need for that. I'm having a wonderful day...enjoying being with you. We could do it again tomorrow—I have vacation days due to me. Or I could take you to see kangaroos...maybe even a koala.'

‘You would want that?'

‘We could try and make this work.' She tried to tone down the desperation in her voice, but she felt he was slipping away from her. ‘We live on different sides of the world—not different planets. Though I'm not so sure about how to handle the prince thing. That's assuming you want to date me?' She laughed—a nervous, shaky laugh that came out as more of a squeak. ‘I feel more like Cinderella than ever...'

Her voice trailed away as she read the bleak expression in his eyes. This was not going well.

‘Gemma, you are so special to me already. Of course I would like to date you—if it were possible. But before you plan to spend more time with me you need to hear this first,' he said. ‘To know why I had no right to trick you. You said you would never hate me, but—'

‘So tell me,' she said. ‘Rip the sticking plaster off in one go.'

‘I am not free to choose my own wife. The heir to the throne of Montovia must marry a woman of noble blood. It is forbidden for him to marry a commoner.'

His words hit her like blows. ‘A...a “commoner”? I'm not so sure I like being called a commoner. And we're not talking marriage—we hardly know each other.'

‘Gemma, if the way I feel about you was allowed to develop, it would get serious.
Very
serious.'

He spoke with such conviction she could not help but find his words thrilling. The dangerous, impossible kind of thrilling.

‘I...I see,' she said. Until now she hadn't thought beyond today. ‘I believe it would get serious for me, too.'
If she allowed herself to get involved.

‘But it could not lead to marriage for us. Marriage for a crown prince is not about love. It is about tradition. My brother's death changed everything. Brought with it an urgency to prepare me for the duties that face me. As crown prince I am expected to marry. I must announce my engagement on my thirtieth birthday. A suitable wife has been chosen for me.'

‘An arranged marriage? Surely not in this day and age?'

‘There is no compulsion for me to marry her. She has been deemed “suitable” if I cannot find an aristocratic wife on my own. And my time is running out.'

Pain seared through her at the thought of him with another woman. But one day together, a few kisses, gave her no claim on him.

‘When do you turn thirty?'

‘On the eighteenth of June.'

She forced her voice to sound even, impartial. ‘Three months. Will you go through with it? Marry a stranger?'

‘Gemma, I have been brought up believing that my first duty is to my country—above my own desires. As second in line to the throne I might have tried to defy it. I even told my family I would not marry if I could not choose my own bride. But as crown prince, stepping into the shoes of my revered brother, who married the daughter of a duke when he was twenty-six and had a son by the time he was twenty-eight, I have no choice but to marry.'

‘But not...never...to someone like me...' Her voice trailed away as the full impact of what he was saying hit her. She looked down to where she scuffed the sand with her bare toes. She had humiliated herself by suggesting a long-distance relationship.