CAROL MARINELLI - Scandals Of The Royals - Princess From the Shadows

His thumbs moved up and down, from her satin-covered shoulders down to the bare skin of her arms. “I know. It’s a necessary evil though. The way I can communicate with my people. They’ve written … I don’t even know what all they’ve written about me. Things about my exploits. Most probably true, but not something I want to read in black and white. Not something I’d want my maiden aunt to read.”

“Do you have a maiden aunt?”

“That was for illustrative purposes. The point is, the press is a part of royal life, of our lives. I employ a ‘keeping my enemies closer’ strategy with the media.”

“And does it work?”

He smiled, that wicked half-smile of his. “I have no idea, I don’t read that sort of thing, remember?”

“You mentioned.”

He slid one hand down her arm, warm fingertips trailing over her skin before he took her hand in his. “Now, let’s go have a press conference.”

Her heart started moving to its own rhythm, too fast, too hard, to be normal. Why did he have to be charming? Or, the bigger question, why did it work on her? Why did it make her stomach tighten, her nerve endings sizzle, when she knew how easy this kind of charm came to men like him?

She didn’t know why. She only knew it did.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

His smile widened, and as it did, she felt something in her chest expand. “Good. Now, try not to run into me on your way in.”

“WHERE did he propose?”

This question came from one of the reporters in the front, directed at Carlotta, who seemed stiffer than usual at his side. He’d gotten a glimpse of the depth of her discomfort in the hallway. Visible cracks in that smooth veneer of hers.

“He … In his office,” she said.

It was true, even if it was a very unromantic picture to paint for the press. Not that he really cared. The press would take what they said and do whatever they pleased with it. That was how it worked. They didn’t get a vote on how they were portrayed in the media. He’d given up caring years ago.

But Carlotta cared. He could see it, in her stance, in the tenseness in her body. She cared a lot.

“You make it sound dull, Carlotta, when we both know it wasn’t.” He turned to her and brushed his thumb over her cheek gently, fascinated by the stain of pink that spread over her cheeks, beneath her smooth golden skin.

“Of course it wasn’t,” she said, her voice stronger now. “But I didn’t want to give away the entire story. You were so sweet and romantic.”

Her comment made his breath rush out on an involuntary chuckle. “All right. Then we won’t tell them about the doves.” He tossed the crowd of reporters a look. “Boring story. Next question?” With any luck, their little display would have the reporters writing about secret glances and shared jokes.

“Prince Rodriguez, you’re the first ruler in the Anguiano family to marry a woman who already has a child. What does that mean for the country? Are you concerned about watering down the line?”

He heard Carlotta suck in a sharp breath and a strong surge of some unidentifiable emotion rose in his chest. It burned. He felt like there was a pool of fire in his chest, and if he gave it free rein it would take over. And if it did … he did not know what he would do.

Teeth clenched, he forced words forward. “Luca is a child, not an incidental. He is off-limits. Next question, and if you cannot keep it on a topic I approve of, we can be finished here.”

More questions followed, about the wedding date, how they met. All of which he glossed over with practiced ease.

“I think that’s enough for one morning,” he said.

“Pictures?” A photographer stood up in back.

Rodriguez nodded his head once in affirmation and drew Carlotta to his side, his arm wrapped around her waist. She felt cold. The fire in his chest kindled again. He leaned in, his lips touching her ear. “Try to smile.”

She turned to him, her mouth only a whisper from his, her full lips looking soft and more tempting than he could remember lips ever looking. He wanted to kiss her. And his mind was going no further than that. The need for a simple kiss … he couldn’t remember ever wanting that.

But this wasn’t the time.

He turned to the photographers and offered a smile. Carlotta did the same, her head angled just perfectly toward him, almost as though she were deferring to him. They made quite a picture. A royal couple who looked better than his parents ever had, for the short amount of time they’d been a couple.

At least in pictures they looked like all Santa Christobel would expect of a ruler and his queen. Maybe these images would blot out the ones they’d looked at for years. Pictures of him with leggy blondes in tight skirts, driving fast cars, leaving notorious nightclubs. And then, one of their favorite sequences, he and a date entering a luxury hotel in the early-morning hours, him leaving a couple of hours later, and his date, dashing out in the daylight hours, wearing the same thing she’d worn the night before.

They loved that one. A look at the scandalous prince. After a while, reading his own exploits had bored him. And sometimes it made him …

He shut his mind on the thoughts. This wasn’t the time to reflect on all of that. Standing in the formal reception hall, the state seal behind him, his fiancée at his side, it made it seem like another life.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding again and dropping his arm from Carlotta’s waist. He moved to exit and she stayed with him, walking closely beside him.

She really was the perfect royal wife. At least in public. That was all that mattered.

As soon as they were outside the room, Carlotta seemed to deflate as she released the breath she’d been holding. “That was …”

“I know. I’m sorry that man mentioned Luca. It was out of line. I won’t tolerate it.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice muted. “Thank you for standing up for him. I know that you aren’t … I know you don’t really like kids.”

“What? Who said I didn’t like kids?”

“He makes you uncomfortable. I can tell.”

Rodriguez shifted, a vague feeling of … embarrassment, something he wasn’t sure he could ever remember experiencing, washing through him. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like children. I have no experience with them.”

“You’ve never dated a woman who had a child?”

Vaguely, he remembered that there had been a woman who’d left the hotel before him once. He was almost certain she said something about needing to get back so her babysitter could go home. “I … Not one that ever introduced me to her children.”

Carlotta began to walk down the corridor, back to the private palace quarters. He followed, his eyes drifting to the rounded curve of her backside. His body most definitely approved of the view.

“I didn’t have any experience with children either. I don’t remember if I’d ever held a baby until I held my own. And then, he was so tiny and perfect. I loved him right then. And I knew I didn’t need any experience. I just needed to love him.” She tossed him a glance over her shoulder. “Of course, I now go through intermittent, crippling bouts of wondering whether or not I’m doing the right thing for him, but, essentially, I trust that just … loving him is enough.”

He stopped walking for a moment. “Do you think all mothers feel that when they hold their babies?”

She stopped too, turning to face him. “I … I don’t know. It was so strong for me. I know my own mother … she loves us, but she’s … she’s distant.”

“Not as distant as mine, I bet,” he said. “I haven’t seen her since I was younger than Luca.”