Cinderella: Hired by the Prince

She’d become very fond of Gordon. When she’d first met him, the morning after Ramon had left, she’d been ready to walk away. Only his shy smile, his assumption that she was coming with him and his pleasure that she was, had kept her on board. He reminded her of her father. Which helped.

She’d been sailing with him now for almost three months. He’d kept his own counsel and she’d kept hers, and it had taken almost all those months for her emotions to settle.

Now…approaching the dock she was so tense she could hardly speak. Normally she welcomed Gordon’s reserve but his silence was only adding to her tension.

There was no need for her to be tense, she told herself. She’d had a couple of surreal weeks with royalty. In true princely fashion he’d rescued her from a life of making muffins, and now she could get on with her life.

With this experience of sailing round the Horn behind her, and with Gordon’s references, maybe she could get another job on board a boat. She could keep right on sailing. While Ramon…

See, that was what she couldn’t let herself think. The future and Ramon.

It had been a two-week affair. Nothing more.

‘What’s the occasion?’ Gordon was behind the wheel, calling to people on the boat passing them. But they didn’t understand English, or Gordon’s broad mixed accent.

‘Why the flags and decorations?’ she called in Spanish and was rewarded by comprehension.

‘Are you from another planet?’ they called, incredulous. ‘Everyone knows what’s happening today.’

Their language was the mix of Spanish and French Ramon had used with the lawyer. She felt almost at home.

No. This was Ramon’s home. Not hers.

‘We’re from Australia,’ she called. ‘We know nothing.’

‘Well, welcome.’ The people raised glasses in salutation. ‘You’re here just in time.’

‘For what?’

‘For the coronation,’ they called. ‘It’s a public holiday. Crown Prince Ramon Cavellero of Cepheus accepts his Crown today.’

Right. She stood in the bow and let her hands automatically organize lines. Or not. She didn’t know what her hands were doing.

First thought? Stupidly, it was that Ramon wouldn’t be meeting her.

Had she ever believed he would? Ramon was a Prince of the Blood. He’d have moved on.

‘Is that our berth?’ Gordon called, and she caught herself, glanced at the sheet the harbour master had faxed through and then looked ahead to where their designated berth should be.

And drew in her breath.

Ramon wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. But there was a welcoming committee. There were four officials, three men and a woman, all in some sort of official uniform. The colours of their uniform matched the colours of the flags.

This yacht belonged to royalty, and representatives of royalty were there to meet them.

‘Reckon any of them can catch a line?’ Gordon called and she tried to smile.

‘We’re about to find out.’

Not only could they catch a line, they were efficient, courteous and they took smoothly over from the time the Marquita touched the dock.

‘Welcome,’ the senior official said gravely, in English. ‘You are exactly on time.’

‘You’ve been waiting for us?’

‘His Highness has had you tracked from the moment you left Auckland. He’s delighted you could be here today. He asks that you attend the ceremony this afternoon, and the official ball this evening.’

Jenny swung around to stare at Gordon-who was staring back at her. They matched. They both had their mouths wide open.

‘Reckon we won’t fit in,’ Gordon drawled at last, sounding flabbergasted. ‘Reckon there won’t be a lot of folk wearing salt-crusted oilskins on your guest list.’

‘That’s why we’re here,’ the official said smoothly. ‘Jorge here will complete the care of the Marquita, while Dalila and Rudi are instructed to care for you. If you agree, we’ll escort you to the palace, you’ll be fitted with clothing suitable for the occasion and you’ll be His Highness’s honoured guests at the ceremonies this afternoon and this evening.’

Jenny gasped. Her head was starting to explode. To see Ramon as a prince…

‘We can’t,’ Gordon muttered.

But Jenny looked at the elderly seaman and saw her mixture of emotions reflected on his face. They’d been at sea for three months now, and she knew enough of Gordon to realize he stacked up life’s events and used them to fill the long stretches at sea that he lived for.

He was staring at the officials with a mixture of awe and dread. And desire.

If she didn’t go, Gordon wouldn’t go.

And, a little voice inside her breathed, she’d get to see Ramon one last time.

Once upon a time Ramon had been her skipper. Once upon a time he’d been her lover. He’d moved on now. He was a Crown Prince.

She’d see him today and then she’d leave.

For the Marquita to berth on the same day as his coronation was a coincidence he couldn’t ignore, making his resolution waver.

He’d made the decision to send his apologies when the boat berthed, for Jenny to be treated with all honour, paid handsomely and then escorted to the airport and given a first-class ticket back to Australia. That was the sensible decision. He couldn’t allow himself to be diverted from his chosen path. But when he’d learned the Marquita’s date of arrival was today he’d given orders before he thought it through. Sensible or not, he would see Jenny this one last time.

Maybe he should see it as an omen, he decided as he dressed. Maybe he was meant to have her nearby, giving him strength to take this final step.

Servants were fussing over his uniform, making sure he looked every inch the Ruler of Cepheus, and outside there was sufficient security to defend him against a small army. Carlos’s blustering threats of support from the military seemed to have no foundation. On his own he had nothing to fear, and on his own he must rule.

The last three months had cemented his determination to change this country. If he must accept the Crown then he’d do it as it was meant to be done. He could change this country for the better. He could make life easier for the population. The Crown, this ultimate position of authority, had been abused for generations. If anyone was to change it, it must be him.

Duty and desire had no place together. He knew that, and the last months’ assessment of the state of the country told him that his duty was here. He had to stay focused. He didn’t need Jenny.

But, need her or not, he wanted Jenny at the ceremony. To have her come all this way and not see her-on this of all days-that was more unthinkable than anything.

He would dance with her this night, he thought. Just this once, he’d touch her and then he’d move forward. Alone.

The doors were swinging open. The Master of State was waiting. Cepheus was waiting.

He’d set steps in place to bring this country into the twenty-first century, he thought with grim satisfaction. His coronation would cement those steps. Fulfilling the plans he’d set in place over the last few weeks would mean this country would thrive.

But maybe the population would never forget the family he came from, he thought as he was led in stately grandeur to the royal carriage. There were no cheers, no personal applause. Today the country was celebrating a public holiday and a continuum of history, but the populace wasn’t impressed by what he personally represented. His grandfather’s reputation came before him, smirching everything. Royalty was something to be endured.

The country had celebrated the birth of a new Crown Prince five years ago. That deception still rankled, souring all.

Philippe should be here, he thought. The little boy should play some part in this ceremony.

But, out at the farm, Philippe was finally starting to relax with him, learning again to be a little boy. He still missed the palace, but to bring him back seemed just as impossible as it had been three months ago.