Crowned: The Palace Nanny

her with him.

She hadn’t danced since she’d injured her hip. She’d hardly danced before then, but it didn’t matter.

Her feet were on his. He was holding her weight so her hip didn’t hurt, so she could move with him, as one with him, in this slow and lovely dance, as if she weighed nothing.

How had she got herself here? She’d agreed to buy one dress and now…she was being seduced.

Seduced?

No. This was payola for what she’d agreed to do. He was giving her a very nice time.

And if it was seduction…She didn’t care, she thought suddenly. What did it matter if her employer seduced her? Employers did these things. Princes did these things.

Um…no. Elsa Murdoch didn’t do these things.

‘Did you dance with your husband?’ he murmured into her ear…and the fairy tale stopped, right then, right there.

‘Pardon?’ She froze in his arms. Her feet slipped off his, and she could have cried. She was on solid earth again and the lovely dance had ended.

‘I didn’t mean…’

‘To remind me of Matty? I’m very sure you did.’

But he was looking confused. As if he’d been in a kind of dream as well.

‘I did dance with Matty,’ she said, jutting her chin. ‘We danced very well.’

‘You loved Matty?’

‘With all my heart.’

‘And you grieve for him still?’

‘I…yes.’ What was a girl to say to that, after all? But something went out as she said it-a light, an intensity in Stefanos’s gaze.

And its going meant grief. How could she say she’d loved her husband but she was ready to move on?

How could she think it?

‘You’ll dance again when your hip’s healed,’ he was saying softly.

‘I won’t,’ she muttered, coming back to earth with a crash. ‘I shouldn’t.’

‘Elsa…’

‘I don’t want to think about Matty,’ she whispered. ‘Not here. Not with you.’

They were alone on the dance floor. There were maybe ten or so tables occupied, but the lights were low, the other two couples who’d danced with them to begin with had left, and there was now just the two of them. The pianist had shifted from waltz music to something soft and dreamlike and wonderful.

There was nothing between them. Only a whisper of breath. Only a whisper of fear.

‘Elsa…’ he murmured, and her name was a question. His hands slipped from the lovely waltz hold so they were in the small of her back.

‘Elsa,’ he said for the third time, and he bent his head…and he kissed her.

It was a long, lingering kiss, deep and wonderful, hot and warm and strong, demanding, caressing, questioning.

It was a kiss like she’d never been kissed before.

She was standing in the middle of a dance floor, her arms around his neck and she was being kissed as she’d always dreamed she could be kissed.

She was being kissed as she’d wanted to be kissed all her life.

Matty…

Stefanos himself had pulled her husband into the equation. He was with her still-maybe he always would be. His kisses had been just as wonderful, but different-so different, another dream, another life. He wasn’t stopping her kissing right back.

This was the most wonderful dream. Her hip didn’t hurt, her worries about Zoe were ended, she wasn’t responsible for anything, for anything, for anything…

He was lifting her so he could deepen the kiss, cradling her, loving her and she thought her heart might well burst, as she realised she was so in love with him.

In love with him.

She, Elsa, was in love with a prince. Wasn’t Cinderella only in story books?

And, almost as soon as the thought was with her, the spell was broken. People were…clapping?

She twisted, confused, within the circle of Stefanos’s arms and found the tables of diners were all watching them, smiling, applauding.

‘It’s Prince Stefanos from Khryseis,’ someone called out in laughing good humour. ‘With the Princess’s nanny.’

Oh, right. She pulled back as if she’d been burned and Stefanos let her go to arm’s reach. But he was still smiling. Smiling and smiling.

‘Not the nanny,’ he murmured. ‘Elsa.’

‘In your dreams,’ she muttered and it was so close to what was real that she almost gasped. Not in his dreams. In her dreams.

‘Stefanos…’

‘I’m falling in love with you,’ he said, simply and strongly and she gasped again.

‘You can’t. I’m just…’

‘You’re just Elsa. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.’

‘You’re kidding me, right?’ she demanded. ‘I have freckles.’

‘Eighteen.’

‘Eighteen?’

‘Eighteen freckles. I love every one of them. Elsa, I’ve been trying to figure where we can take this.’

‘Where we…’

‘If we were to marry,’ he said and her world stilled again.

‘M…marry?’

‘I didn’t come prepared,’ he said ruefully. ‘I should be going down on one knee right now, with a diamond the size of a house in my pocket. But I’ve only just thought of it. Alexandros said I needed a wife, and he’s right.’

‘You’ve had too much champagne.’

‘No,’ he said and then, more strongly, ‘no! I know what I want, Elsa, and I want you.’

‘Because Alexandros said.’

‘I don’t think I did that very well,’ he said ruefully. ‘Believe it or not, it’s far less about Alexandros than about eighteen freckles.’

‘Eighteen freckles are hardly a basis for marriage.’

‘I believe you’re wrong,’ he said gravely. ‘But we could work on other attractions. Do you possibly think you could love me? I know you loved Matty. I know you still love Matty. I’ll always honour that, but…is it possible that I could…grow on you?’

‘Like a wart?’ she said cautiously.

‘Something like that,’ he agreed. He smiled and, chuckling, pulled her close.

But…But. This might be the magic she’d longed for but there were buts surfacing in all directions.

‘Stefanos, no.’ She tugged away again, trouble surfacing in all directions. They were being watched, she knew, but the piano was still playing softly in the background and maybe they were more private here than if they went back to their table.

‘Will you be my wife?’ he asked, solidly and strongly, and there it was, a proposal to take her breath away.

The but was still there. Forcing her hand.

‘No,’ she said.

‘No?’

‘I’m not changing direction again.’ She stood, mute and troubled. ‘Not…not while you don’t know where you’re going.’

‘I do know where I’m going.’

‘You don’t.’ She was frantically trying to think this through. To be sensible when she wanted to be swept away in fantasy. Only fantasy was for fairy tales and this was real. ‘Stefanos, the problem is…you’ve committed yourself