Bodyguard’s Royal Temptation
Abby Green
This is for Paddy Kerr—thanks for the invaluable sailing/boats advice. And this is also for the rest of the Brookfield Walkies group, Jo and Anita. Not to mention the dogs: Gunner, Poppy, Juno, Orwell and Peggy. Thanks for the many steps and things put to rights on our little treks around IMMA. The perfect recipe for staying sane(ish). x
Chapter One
THE VOICE DRONED ON… ‘Given our location between North Africa and Southern Europe, and the fact that we are steeped in history dating back thousands of years, with influences from the Moors to the Greeks, Spanish and French, we are uniquely positioned to—’
‘To promote our rich diverse culture and stunning natural beauty by encouraging investment in industry and especially tourism. Having French as our official language and with most citizens speaking English and at least two or three more, we’re accessible to many, in terms not only of tourism but also industry. We need to encourage our young, well-educated and multilingual population to stay, and not emigrate as so many have in the past, but to do that we need to prove we can provide investment opportunities.’
Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Cassandra Theodora Sophia Beatriz Clotilde Mansur de Roche—to give her her full name and title—finished off the end of her chief advisor’s lecture without even thinking about it. Anything to stay awake. His voice was so unfortunately monotonous. Her older brother, the recently abdicated king, had warned her about this.
She was also standing in front of open French doors that led out to a terrace, in a bid to remain alert with the help of the sea breeze. The view of aforementioned stunning scenery beyond the palace offices was helping. The blue ocean glittered and foamed under the sparkling sun, she could see a pod of dolphins frolicking and wished she were out there too, in her little kayak, exploring the nooks and crannies of the coast. The dolphins would regularly keep her company.
But that had been when she’d been the mere spare to the heir. Just a plain princess. Before the world had blown up a couple of months ago when it had transpired that her older brother wasnotthe biological heir of the late king. He was in fact the product of an affair their late mother, the queen, had had with a lover. Probably one of her bodyguards.
Cassie had always wondered if the whispered rumours were true because the only physical trait she and her brother shared was their distinctive blue eyes. Where she was blonde, and fair, he was dark. Well, now she knew. Now everyone knew.
Everything had changed and suddenly Cassie had been pushed to the top of the heir queue. The coveted spot. A part of her was still in denial, although these daily lectures covering everything from history to geography, economics and politics were helping to drum it home.
In a few short weeks, she would be crowned Queen of Sadat Sur Mer. At that reminder there came a familiar tightening in her chest and her breathing became shallower. She’d worked hard to overcome the anxiety that had dogged her childhood dominated by two parents who’d hated each other and who had expressed that frequently and volubly within the palace walls. She’d battled it by focusing on being as sunny and amenable as possible, in a bid to distract one or other of her parents from hating on each other at any given time.
She’d been so successful at projecting a happy-go-lucky front that she’d managed to almost fool herself into believing it was her default disposition. And it had worked most of the time—her bright beaming smile would often help divert attention from her parents’ rigid tension and barely concealed contempt for one another.
So the return of the old anxiety was not welcome. Nor was the fact that her brother was no longer here to guide her or to help her with this transition. Not his fault—but the backlash against him for not being of the king’s line had been fierce. The people had loved Caius and had felt personally betrayed by something that had been entirely out of his control.
It had been decided that he would serve Cassie better by leaving Sadat Sur Mer until her coronation day, to let things calm down and give the people time to adjust to her taking on the role of monarch.
Cassie knew Caius would be with her if he could but she couldn’t help but also feel a little irrationally betrayed by the fact that now she was all on her own to deal with this massive change in their situation. She’d always been able to count on his solid and comforting presence, even if he’d been on the other side of the world, making headlines for his playboy antics before he’d been crowned king. He’d barely had enough time to settle into the role before the scandal of his birth had hit them.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be queen, she’d just never expected to be in this position. He’d been brought up prepared to be ruler. She hadn’t. And now everyone was looking to her to be their supreme leader. Daunting, to say the least.
A pang of old grief struck her to think of her twin sister, Christabel, who had died at birth. If she had lived, who was to say that Cassie would have even become queen? Maybe her sister would have relished the role and been more suited? But she wasn’t here, and Cassie was, and that was a humbling reminder that she had to accept this new reality for her sister’s sake as much as hers.
‘Your Highness?’
Cassie reluctantly turned from the view to see folders open on the desk. ‘Yes, Pierre.’
‘One more item to discuss before we finish.’
She could make out the A4-size photo of a blandly handsome face from where she stood. Clearly they’d moved on from her chief advisor’s favourite subject to his next favourite subject—a prospective mate. The king to her queen. The sire to her heirs, who would carry her name to ensure the line didn’t disappear. The band around her chest got tighter and she countered it by forcing a bright smile as she walked over to the desk and sat down behind it.
‘You’ve prepared some candidates, I see.’
‘Yes, Your Highness. The men in this folder are all from eminently suitable royal lineages. As you might appreciate considering recent events, it’s absolutely crucial that we restore faith in our people by choosing someone with impeccable pedigree.’
With superb comic timing, Cassie’s beloved cockapoo, whose pedigree was murky to say the least, ambled over from her bed to where Cassie sat, and Cassie scooped her into her lap, ignoring Pierre’s pinched expression of disapproval. She didn’t appreciate the reference to her brother being somehowlessjust because his royal blood was a little diluted.
She sent Pierre a tight smile. ‘Thank you, I can look through these on my own.’
Her advisor all but clicked his heels together and bowed. ‘Very well, Your Highness, we can make arrangements to meet your preferred candidates.’
Cassie hid a sigh and said, ‘Pierre, you really don’t have to bow to me. I would prefer to keep things a little less formal than they have been.’ Especially as they’d been in her father’s time. A father who had shown scant interest in Cassie, or only when she’d diverted his attention by being sweet and pretty and happy.
Pierre looked as scandalised as if she’d started to strip off her clothes.
‘Your Highness, there is a long tradition of protocol to follow. It is my duty to ensure this is preserved, now more than ever given our recent tribulations.’
