The Virgin and His Majesty. Robyn Donald

it suits you; you have the same delicate colouring, the soft clarity of spring.’

      ‘It’s lovely,’ Rosie said on a sigh, ‘and worth every penny, but I don’t have those pennies, I’m afraid. Thank you for showing it to me, though.’

      Her regret must have shown in her tone because the woman smiled and nodded and packed the beautiful, fragile thing away without demur.

      Back at the palace she found a note waiting for her. Apart from his signature on birthday and Christmas cards it was the first time she’d seen Gerd’s writing; bold and full of character, it made her heart thump unnecessarily fast as she scanned the paper.

      He hoped she’d had a good day, and suggested that they have dinner together at a restaurant he knew, one where they wouldn’t be hounded by photographers.

      And where they wouldn’t be alone, she thought with a wry quirk of her lips. Perhaps the princess objected to him dining with another woman in the privacy of his palace apartment, even when the other woman was related by marriage.

      It was probably only his excellent manners that stopped him pleading a previous appointment and avoiding her altogether.

      Temptation warred viciously with common sense. Should she go or do the sensible thing and say she was too tired? In the end her weaker part won. What harm could a dinner with him do, chaperoned as they’d be by the other diners, not to mention the waiters?

      She rang the bell and gave the servant her answer.

      Now, what to wear?

      Anticipation built rapidly inside her; just for tonight—just this once—she’d let herself enjoy Gerd’s company.

      After all, there weren’t going to be any repercussions. She was adult enough to deal with the situation. She’d forget her foolish crush and treat him like…oh, like the other men she’d gone out with. She’d be friendly, interested, sparkle for him, even flirt a little. It would be perfectly safe because Gerd was going to marry either Princess Serina, or someone very like her.

      Someone suitable.

      And when tonight was over Rosie would never see him again. Well, not in the flesh, she thought mordantly. He had a habit of turning up in the media—arrogantly handsome royalty was always good for a headline, especially when it came to love and marriage.

      Eventually she chose a slender dress in a clear, warm colour the blue of her eyes, one of Hani’s rare couture mistakes. It had been shortened, of course, but the proportions were good. And so what if she’d worn it twice since arriving in Carathia? Princess Serina might have been dressed in a completely different outfit each time she’d appeared, but Rosie couldn’t compete.

      Ready to go, she critically eyed herself in the huge mirror and gave a bleak nod; the soft material skimmed her body so her curves weren’t too obvious and the neckline was discreetly flattering.

      She’d aimed for discretion in make-up too, but her glowing reflection made her wonder uneasily if she shouldn’t apply a little more foundation just to tone things down. Not that foundation would mask the sparkle in her eyes.

      She hesitated, then shrugged. Who was she fooling? She was going out with Gerd because she craved a tiny interlude of privacy, of something special.

      To build more dreams on?

      ‘No,’ she said aloud, startling herself. ‘To convince myself once and forever not to dream any more, because dreaming is a total, useless waste of my life and I’m over it. I’m free and twenty-one and unemployed, and I will put fairy tales behind me.’

      Chapter Three

      STIFFENING her shoulders, Rosie turned away from her reflection, picked up a small blue evening bag and went out.

      Her composure lasted exactly as long as it took for her to set eyes on Gerd.

      The previous week should have accustomed her to his magnificence in austere, perfectly tailored black and white. Only it hadn’t. A wild tumult beat through her blood and she had to stop herself from dragging in a shaken breath.

      Don’t you dare stutter like a besotted teenager, she commanded.

      That horrible prospect gave her enough energy to steady her erratic breathing and say in a voice that almost sounded normal, ‘You’re an amazing family, you and Kelt and Alex. You’re all gorgeous in your different ways even when you’re in ordinary kit, but put you in evening clothes and you all take on a masculine glamour that should come with flashing signs to warn impressionable females. Most men look vaguely like penguins at formal occasions, but not you three. Have you ever been approached to model male cosmetics?’

      ‘No.’

      Just the one word, but she was left in no doubt about his feelings. Laughter bubbled up inside her. ‘Alex has. He looked just like you did then.’

      ‘I can imagine it,’ Gerd said with a half-smile. ‘If you think we men need warning signs, you should hand out sunglasses.’

      Nonplussed, she stared at him. His face was unreadable, but she thought she saw a glint of amusement in his eyes, enough to give her voice an edge when she said, ‘Thank you, I think. But it’s not me, it’s the dress—Hani gave it to me.’

      His voice deepened. ‘Nonsense, it’s always been you. Hani calls you instant radiance.’

      Shaken by both his words and their tone, she grabbed at her precarious poise. ‘Radiance? I haven’t noticed myself glowing in the dark, so I assume I’m safe.’

      His eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘Ah, yes, but what about those close to you?’

      ‘I don’t think you need worry,’ she said kindly. ‘Hani and Kelt let me play with their precious infant, and that’s as good a safety recommendation as you can get.’

      To her disappointment he glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better go. One of the minor irritations of life here is that it’s ruled by the clock.’

      ‘Even when you’re off-duty?’ she asked on the way down.

      ‘Basically I’m never off-duty.’

      A car waited discreetly by one of the side doors of the palace. Two men sat in front—one in uniform, one without.

      Gerd stood aside to let her in first and, once settled, she said thoughtfully, ‘I doubt if I could cope with that.’

      ‘I’ve always known I was going to have to do it.’ He clicked his seat belt in and glanced across at her already fastened one. ‘When I was younger I was resentful of paparazzi, but I grew out of that.’

      A grim note in the deep voice made her wonder how hard it had been for him to achieve that resignation. Something about the man sitting in front of her caught her eye. ‘Gerd, the man in the passenger seat isn’t wearing a seat belt.’

      Straight brows drawing together, he told her, ‘He’s a bodyguard.’

      ‘Oh.’ Feeling foolish and slightly uneasy, she asked, ‘Bodyguards don’t?’

      ‘No. They need to be able to react instantly.’

      Perturbed at the thought of him in danger, she said, ‘I didn’t realise you’d need them here.’

      Although she should have. Only a couple of years ago the Carathians had been fighting each other over his accession.

      Quickly she asked, ‘Is everything all right here now?’

      He said in a tone that dismissed her concern, ‘Yes, of course.’

      But something his First Minister had said to him that morning echoed in Gerd’s mind. ‘Things are quiet now; the discovery that the ringleaders were in the pay of MegaCorp and that the purpose of the insurrection was to take over the carathite mines horrified every Carathian. And while the people are basking in the afterglow of the coronation and the harvest is